Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Guardian ❯ Contentment ( Chapter 9 )

Guardian, Chapter 9
Contentment

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There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea
You became the light on the dark side of me...

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Looking at her a long moment, he found no trace of guile in his study of her face. In the darkness his eyes missed any roseate blush that may have touched the pale skin. Her lips curved in a small smile that said she was aware of the scrutiny and minded not, as she wanted him to know she had spoken in earnest.

Finally deciding that her statement meant only what it said, he unexpectedly felt something on his heart ease, some hidden knot of tension in his chest uncoil. Honored Guardian or no, he had seen countless shocked glances of pity or horror over the course of his long quest to find Jecht, though they were quickly mastered and hidden away. Their parents might have deemed his disfigurement a badge of honor won 'saving the world from Sin' -- Ha! -- but children too young to understand still turned their frightened faces into their mothers' skirts as he passed. It had been a long road.

He may have been able to remove the scar, had he wanted; his mind was, after all, the only force binding the elements of his body together. But it seemed a betrayal to those who had given up far more than vanity, and aside even from that, he was fairly certain that it would only reappear. It was part of who he was, now. Yunalesca's blow had bitten deep through flesh and bone, cleaving into soul.

He set the empty cup down on the table and rose. "Thank you," was all he said in parting, and whether for the tea, or something else, she could not tell.

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After that night, he slowly started to leave all of the heavy clothing behind as he went around the house, until finally he only wore it when he left the property, a rare occurrence. If it were difficult for him at first he gave no sign of it, and I was pleased. It had pained me that one my husband had loved so dearly, who had done so much for us, had felt the need to fortify himself behind those barriers of cloth and lens.

There was a new, companionable ease between us: a comfortable closeness as between longtime friends, though we had known each other only a while. We sat together for long periods of time in silence, usually he with a book and I with my paints, without feeling that desperate need to fill the quiet void with meaningless, nervous chatter. When we did talk, I felt as though he listened to me as few had done before. I talked about Jecht and my life before he entered it, and Auron spoke with ill-concealed longing about the land of his birth, a lush and green place that I longed to see.

He even sat tolerantly through the daytime programming I adored, only now and then raising a sardonic eyebrow over the spine of his book. Today, he sprawled out on the couch doing just that, as I sat cross-legged on the floor, watching with rapt attention as the characters played through their shallow lives. It was pointless, overly dramatic, and predictable, but I was hooked anyway.

"Ah!" I squealed. "He finally proposed!"

I could almost hear him rolling his eyes. "Isn't there a wedding just about every week on that show?"

"No!" I said, indignant. "Well, maybe. But, this is different, they are just meant for each other--"

"Didn't he sleep with her best friend last week? And isn't she having someone else's baby?" he asked, in bored tones.

My jaw dropped, and I half-turned to face him. "You were paying attention to that?"

He looked affronted. "Unfortunately. You have the strangest tastes. Take this, for example..." He gestured to the book in his hand.

My cheeks burst into flame when I saw not the bound leather of the classic literature he had until now been devouring, but the cover of a really tawdry romance novel. "Where did you get--"

He continued on in disbelief, an odd glint of mischief in his eye. "Is this flowery, suspended reality what women really want?" He read with mock emphasis, "Gavin bore her back into the grass, verdant green against the fiery red hair tumbling in shimmering waves beneath her, his hands struggling to liberate the pearly twin mounds from her bodice even as his tongue plundered the honeyed depths of her mouth--"

"Auron!" I snatched the book out of his hands, and he gave me a wicked, amused, half-grin.

Mercilessly, he kept teasing me, pointing at the cover. "And what is that he is supposed to be wearing? I must tell you that no man would ever, on pain of death, wear leathers as tight as that, or shirts that expose their chest hair nearly to the navel. No man who likes women, anyway."

I glared at him. "He's dashing and adventurous."

"Or a pirate," he finished.

I couldn't help it; I laughed, and he made an amused sound.

"You'd better get back to your show," he admonished. "They'll both be married to someone else tomorrow."

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Her laugh was exquisite. I found myself willing to say anything, even at my own expense, to hear it. It seemed a crime that the world had nearly lost that sound forever. I treasured each moment we spent during that time, content simply to be in each other's company. If I could not have her the way that I wanted, it was at least balm to my wounded heart to have the unlikely friendship that we'd forged.

After living so long the solitary life of a warrior-monk, and then as a journeying Guardian, it was also an unexpected pleasure to suddenly find myself part of what could almost be called a family. I discovered beauty in the mundane, the predictable routine of waking and sleeping, taking meals together. Vast new worlds lay dormant between the covers of books that I had never had time to explore; in Spira there had always been more imminent tasks to attend. I still missed home, but if there were little of nature here to dwell in, at least the same sun and stars passed overhead, in their familiar bright glory.

Tidus also gave more to me than ever I gave to him. His enthusiasm was infectious, even if his innocent optimism grated on nerves turned cynical by the ravages of time. Faithful to a fault, he was always excited to see me, even when I lost my patience and snapped at him to leave off bothering me. Even the cat had taken to me, deciding that my bed was the most comfortable place for a feline to spend the night, being gracious enough to share it with me if I didn't mind sharing the pillow. I did, and after a few restless nights I fetched the damnable thing its own pillow, a compromise which suited us both. Dreams rarely troubled me, and for the first time in a long while, even with the repressed longing in my heart, I was content. I felt alive.

I would often think later that things might have been all right, could they just have stayed the way they were. But I knew also that this was impossible; whether constrained by fate or merely by the unopposable persistence of love denied, the rest of the story was inevitable.

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End Chapter 9

A bit short, I know, but the better part of the next four chapters is already written; they should be up in short order. At least expect one more this weekend! And I promise, it's going to get more interesting shortly ;)

~Sango