Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Guardian ❯ Awakening ( Chapter 11 )
Guardian, Chapter 11
Awakening
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My hands will adore you
Through all darkness, and they will
Lay you out in moonlight...
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The one incongruous spot of color in the slowly dimming room was the scarlet coat draped casually over a chair, the only item not folded neatly or otherwise arranged in perfect order. There could be no doubt that the room's occupant had once been in the military, I observed, coming in to strip and launder the bedding. I no longer found cleaning to be such an insurmountable task. I almost enjoyed it; the mundane chores seemed less like drudgery and more of an affirmation of life -- things needed to be cleaned, used, and then cleaned again, like my paint-spattered shirts and Tidus's sopping wet blitz uniform. Life was about getting things dirty.
It also helped that Auron had no aversion to doing things around the house, after being shown the common use of various pieces of household technology. He always looked faintly as though lightning would strike him down for some mortal sin the first time he touched something new, though I pretended not to notice after the furious scowl he'd given me when I once mentioned it. It had been rather funny at first, seeing a man vacuum -- Jecht abhorred cleaning, we'd always hired maids -- but he looked as graceful and serious doing that as when he ran through the deadly-looking forms of battle with his sword in the courtyard.
He was there now, I saw through the window, though not with the sword. Instead he stood with Tidus in the last rays of slanting amber sunlight, where they would train until the indigo cloak of twilight fell fully across the early autumn sky. The two of them made an impressive pair; the clean lines of precise form moved in tandem as they flowed through one of the many techniques Auron had been teaching my son. The Guardian had confessed, when the boy was safely out of earshot, that Tidus was an exceptionally quick study when he could be persuaded to concentrate. Unsurprisingly, it was also a challenge to get him to focus.
Today, however, Auron had his full attention. It was the first day in nearly a week that he'd been allowed outside to practice, as he'd been sick for days with a nasty stomach virus. Another day of rest was probably in order, but neither I nor Auron had the patience to otherwise entertain him, it being nearly impossible to channel all of his restless energy into an activity that could be done abed. He seemed to be doing fine, and I knew Auron wouldn't press him too hard.
I was not aware, for a long time, of how my eyes began increasingly to follow the older man and not the boy. I only knew that every sleek line of his body radiated power, as he moved in a way that could almost be called dancing -- if the word could somehow be altered to keep all of the grace and none of the frivolity that it implied.
The sun had nearly set; only a fingertip of ruby sun gleamed brightly upon the horizon. Auron stood facing me, watching Tidus sternly with arms crossed as the child performed the kata again on his own. In the gloaming, the black of his hair drank up the light greedily, teeth flashing unnaturally white against the gloom in a quick, rare smile as the boy finished. His shirtless form faintly glowed a dusky bronze, still glistening from the sweat of his own earlier workout.
His gaze lifted suddenly to catch mine, the smile reappearing briefly as he nodded recognition at me. The fire-lit mahogany seemed to arc through the air, piercing my breast and making me gasp painfully.
He was suddenly unearthly, inhumanly beautiful: a wayward demi-god wandering the sublunary plane to treat with mortal men. Unaware of his own allure, he turned then away, breaking eye contact and with it the spell that held me immobile. The strength of my inexplicable reaction made me stagger, falling against the bed, throwing my arms out blindly to keep from falling.
Am I attracted to Auron?
Am I falling in love with him?
My hands twisted into the sheets as they balled into fists, and I sat down heavily on the mattress, as one slapped in the face with the ungentle hand of sudden realization. There was no denying the answer to the first question; the aftermath of quicksilver heat racing through my veins made any lie impossible. A hundred small thoughts and glances over the past few months suddenly became incontrovertible evidence. Yes, in a purely physical way, I was. Not only that, I supposed: he was unfailingly kind, patient with Tidus, and even had a wicked sense of humor hidden away somewhere. He was the steadying rock that Jecht never had been -- but oh God, it was too soon, I wasn't ready--
Jecht...
I might have sat there numbly for hours, if I hadn't heard Tidus slamming the door as they came in for dinner. My head was spinning, and my stomach turning along with it. I wanted nothing more than to retreat to my room and lie down, but I couldn't seem to make myself move. The sudden noise startled me into action; I didn't want to talk to anyone. I left a hastily scribbled note in the kitchen and fled, undoubtedly leaving Auron to wonder why I had come in and torn up his bed only to leave the sheets crumpled up in the middle of the floor.
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Tidus was much bigger, Auron noticed absently, than the last time he'd carried the boy to bed like this. It was amazing, how children grew. Being dead and unchanging himself, and in such a strange environment, Auron had completely lost track of time's passing. It still felt sometimes as though very little had passed since his arrival, so these new changes in Tidus were rather a shock. His limbs were longer, and though he was still rather gangly, the time spent outside with Auron had put a bit of muscle on him. The nearly cherubic expression on his sleeping face was still the same though, as was the devilish smile he wore when awake.
Barely over his bout with 'the flu' as Serra had called it, the day's activities had well and truly worn him out, and Auron had felt a bit remorseful about working him so hard when the boy nodded off and nearly planted his face in his mostly-uneaten pizza. They would take it easier tomorrow. The boy needed a day off.
On the return trip to the living room he paused involuntarily in front of Serra's door. Dinner had been a quiet affair, with her teasing laughter absent and Tidus's endless chatter subverted by sheer weariness. Have I grown so used to her?
Nothing ever diminished her beauty to him. Even earlier this evening, disheveled and with her arms full of laundry, he had nearly felt his bones melt from her smile. Does she know? Can she see how she affects me, the way I have to force aside the gaze that wants only to drink in forever the sight of her?
He shifted his weight as if to proceed back down the hall, but didn't. It wasn't like her to just seclude herself away like she had done tonight, not since her initial battle with depression and grief. When they'd come inside all they found was a terse note about going to bed with a headache, suggesting that they order in for dinner tonight. It sounded innocuous enough, but some unease he couldn't name tripped his awareness, setting him on edge with a pervasive feeling of wrongness. She had also left all of his bedding piled on the floor, as though whatever ailed her had come on suddenly.
He heard the soft spray of the shower running in the background, so she must not have been feeling that bad, he supposed. He could probably use one himself. He turned to throw the rest of the pizza in the fridge and do just that when he heard the halting sound of wet flesh skidding across porcelain, followed by a sickening thud. Running back to the door, he tore it open wide enough to stick his head in warily.
"Serra?"
No answer. "Serra, are you all right??"
When nothing but running water answered him, he ran through the room and the doorway to the bathroom. The startling bloom of crimson on white caught his eye first, and he went to her without further hesitation for modesty or propriety. She lay sprawled face-down and unmoving on the tiled floor of the shower. Her small form stayed completely slack as he worriedly turned her over. The continuous spray of water washed the trickle of blood from her lip, sending a rivulet of pale rose coursing away into the drain. Probing her head gently with his fingers, he found a large lump under the hair, swollen but not serious. She stirred in his arms, squinting against the water dripping directly into her face.
"Auron?" she asked groggily. Then her eyes widened a bit, realizing just where she was, and where her clothes weren't.
He shut off the spray with one hand and grabbed the nearest towel to wrap around her. She tried to sit up and do it herself, but his gruff voice stopped her. "Stop, Serra. Not so quickly."
Thankfully, the large towel covered everything. If Auron felt the temptation to look he hid it well. Of course, he would have seen everything when he came in, anyway... But he looked, as almost always, utterly composed, though his tone was worried.
He sat back on his heels, draping her across his knees, paying no mind to the water soaking through his trousers as he examined the cut on her lower lip. For his part, it had been easy to forget her nakedness in his worry for her, but now fought not to remember just how very long it had been since he'd seen so much of a woman. "What happened?"
"I don't know...I was standing, and then I wasn't. It was very hot..." she trailed off.
He frowned. She was shivering, even in the steam, and the skin beneath his hands that should have been cool from the water still beading on it was instead burning hot. He put his hand to her forehead. "You're feverish."
Serra closed her eyes when he touched her, feeling suddenly lost, the gentle touch strongly invoking a repressed longing to just be taken care of. If his fingers lingered briefly, she did not notice.
Abruptly an overwhelming wave of illness washed over her. "Auron, let go. I'm going to throw up." She stumbled to the toilet and did so, mortified by his presence. But he moved to her side without comment, his strong arms supporting her and holding the net of wet hair out of her face. Finally the spasms eased, and she lay her leaden head on her arms, feeling weak as a day-old kitten.
She heard him leave and come back, felt the slick coolness of the water glass he pressed into her hand. "Your shower's over, I think. Let's get you in bed." She opened her eyes and tried to rise, but couldn't, too disoriented to keep her balance.
He caught her easily, though he nearly lost the towel in the process. "Here, I'll carry you. Just, ah, hold the towel."
Held tightly against his chest, his arms securely around her, she fought the urge to weep and lost. Turning her head into his shirt she cried silently, overcome with want for Jecht, who had always been the one to hold her before, but also shamed by how well Auron's embrace, however practical, seemed to fit comfortingly around her. By the thrill she felt, even now, at the touch of his bare arms against her skin.
How she missed being held like this...
He set her down amid the pillows, fetching a towel for her hair without being asked, and a shirt for her to change into as well. She managed to do that on her own when he went to the kitchen to get ice for her head. It wasn't so bad, being taken care of. She could close her eyes with him there and feel safe, wrapped in the comfort of his presence, knowing that nothing could harm her while he was near. Wasn't that what Jecht had asked of him? Was it so wrong to feel the way she did about him?
How could she not?
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End Chapter 11
Song quote by Jewel. Next chapter is nearly done as well.