Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Reminisce (Just a Little Bit Like Freedom) ❯ Just a Little Bit Like Freedom... ( Prologue )

So this is how it is.

This is how it ends.

Ends...

I had never believed that one could die from sorrow. Not in my entire life.

Now I see how.

This is cruelly typical. Everything is revealed at the end. And now I see everything all too clearly.

I've had enough time to think. And I've come to several conclusions, all which mean nothing to me.

Yes, this is the end, and yes...I'm...dying.

I know it hasn't been that long since...his disappearance. Only a matter of four months and twenty-five days.

But I know Jecht. My Jecht. Never met a stronger man. He would have been back within days if he was going to be back at all. A week at most. Nothing on this earth could keep that man away from his home so long as he lived.

That's how I know he's dead.

I know I've been eating less and less, getting out of bed only about once a day. That's all I can manage; every motion has to be forced, because my body burns with protest at each movement. I won't make excuses for myself. I very simply don't have the strength, much less the will, to be what I was before he left.

Tidus is still very helpful. I know he worries about me. He'll bring me meals and water sometimes, makeshift breakfasts and dinners. He's not even eight. I'm proud of him for trying. But I'm weak. He may have my hair, my skin, but his face is so strikingly Jecht that I often can't bear to look at it without crying. I've tried to explain to him that it's not his fault, but...oh, lord, I can't help but be drowning in my own sorrow. And I hope Tidus one day understands that it had nothing to do with him. He's trying so hard to make up for the loss of his father; he's getting better and better at blitzball. Jecht would be delighted. It only makes me miss him more.

I tried for awhile to distract myself, to do things, but it seemed like everything I ever did led somehow back to Jecht. Making dinner brought back recollections of our rather strange and unorthodox courtship, recollections of an episode where I learned never to let him near a kitchen appliance. Those kinds of memories brought about bittersweet smiles and more lonely tears. I had grown so used to reading on the couch while Jecht dozed, head limp on my lap, that I had several times reached down to absently toy with his hair and found nothing. It was a horribly empty feeling.

And the house can only be cleaned top to bottom so many times a day.

I have no wish to leave this place. I still catch the scent of him sometimes, nestling my head into a pillow or sorting through the dresser; if that's all that's left of him, then I'll remain by it.

So that is that.

Gifts and visits of sympathy had come from his entire team. It startled me at first; but then, as I grew to be familiar with their presences in my home, I understood. Jecht was like a heroic older brother, a father figure, to each of the Abes. He was family. So that made me family, too. The obligation to this extended family simply had not been practiced until necessary. They all took joy in playing with Jecht's boy, teaching him things, and I was glad that Tidus, who was ever his father's son, got some company. And the Abes weren't the only ones to send sympathies. Half of Zanarkand seemed to want to help. So that was how Tidus recieved everything from a lifetime registration at a summer blitzball camp to, strangely, balloons and stuffed animals and enough homemade cookies to make him hate the things. And I discovered that the massive amounts of candles and cards sent respectively sat well on the mantle and burned well in the fireplace. I didn't want their pity. I wanted to be alone; I wanted Jecht at my side again.

And then, one day, there came Auron.

I was awake at the time, but not out of bed. I heard the knocking at the door; heard Tidus open it.

"Who are you?" Tidus asked bluntly.

"Is your name Tidus?"

"Uh huh. What do you want?"

"My name's Auron. I'm here to see your mother..."

I could hear the suspicion in Tidus' voice, though I couldn't imagine why. He usually loved visitors. "What for? ...You're dressed funny."

"I know," said the man named Auron. "It's...very important. It's about your father."

There was a long moment of silence in which my heart started a rapid pace; Jecht! Jecht...if they had any word of him now, it'd be because...

He was alive!

But...after so long?

Jecht...

I heard a resounding *thump,* which I took to be Tidus attempting to slam the door on the visitor. I supposed he didn't succeed - I heard the sounds of a light scuffle, and then Tidus squalling, "Let me go! Put me down, you -"

"You should never close your door in the face of a stranger who has come so far." Auron advised calmly. "Where is your mother?"

"I'm not telling!"

Jecht...Jecht...

"Is she here?"

"I told you, I'm not telling, now go away!" Tidus fumed. "Let me *down!*"

"Stop biting me, child." Auron muttered, sounding a good deal more annoyed. "I will look in every room in this house for her if I must, and if she isn't home, I will sit here and wait for her until she *does* come home. It's a pity that I have to get off on the wrong foot with you, but I'm bound by an oath to do this, and..."

"I don't care, go away!"

An oath...?

There was another pause, and the man called Auron muttered, "God, I hate kids." Then, louder, he said to Tidus, "If I put you down, will you go play or something? You don't have to help me, but this is something that I *must* do. Not even the son of Jecht will stop me."

"Don't say that name." Tidus said darkly.

"Very well. So, if I put you down, will you leave me be?"

"I want you to go away! Leave us alone," my son growled.

"That means I have to carry you around like this all around the house until I find her. And if I don't find her, well, then, I'll just have to stay here until she comes, like I said."

"...She's sleeping right now." Tidus mumbled. "Don't bother her. She's tired."

"Oh? How long has she been asleep?"

"She sleeps all the time," Tidus said, and I felt a pang of parental guilt.

"Is it alright if I go see her?"

"No, she's sleeping!"

"I'll be very quiet."

"She's *sleeping!*"

"She cannot possibly sleep all the time. Are you going to show me where her room is, or must I search the house?"

Tidus paused, then decided on surrender. "...Here, this way. You gotta swear not to wake her up."

"Thank you very much. I swear."

Footsteps, and then another whisper, louder now; the sound of a doorknob turning, opening.

I watched, curled up in my blankets, as Auron entered the room. It was evening; the sun was setting. But it was not so dark that I could not see him.

Tidus was right; he *was* dressed oddly, wearing a large blood-red trenchcoat with a black belt that held a flask of sake, as well as a stiff collar that hid his neck and mouth entirely. One eye had a vertical slash, and it was scarred shut; the wound ran down his cheek, looking hideously painful. His other eye was a reddish-brown; his hair was black and unruly, his skin looking unwashed. He was quite an ugly sight.

"Good evening," he said softly. So he knew I was awake. "My name's -"

"Auron. I know. Forgive my son."

"It's...fine."

"Come here. It hurts to talk loudly."

He nodded once, stepping closer and kneeling down beside me at the edge of the bed. Upon closer inspection, his good eye had a halfway urgent, panicked look to it; he had the same expression my father did after coming back from the war when I was a child. I wondered what had shocked him so; what had he gone through? "I...have a message, from Jecht..."

"Is he alive?" I murmured.

Auron hesitated. Looked down. "I..."

"He's dead, isn't he...Jecht, he's dead..."

"I...it's..." He stammered. "...There are some things that it would kill you to know. I can't explain it all to you. I wish I could. He's..." He looked torn, very uneasy, and quite shaken.

"Is he dead or not?"

"He is...lost," Auron looked away.

"That's not an answer. Tell me!"

"There is no way I can explain it. Yes, he's dead. He's...never coming back, if that's what you're asking. But...he is alive...you could say. He sent me."

"Tell me."

"He...sends his deepest love."

I closed my eyes, for once fighting the tears. Jecht...

"Jecht told me to give you this. He said you would understand."

Digging around in his pocket, he pulled out a small piece of paper, carefully folded and guarded. I took it and opened it, ignoring the burst of pain that it caused my arm. Ah - no surprise, and certainly proof that Jecht himself had indeed sent Auron here. It was written in Lingo, of course; I knew it was Jecht's work instantly from his handwriting and clumsy grammar. Like a greedy schoolgirl, I found myself soaking it in, mentally filling in the little grammatical blanks as I went.

To my Mia -

I love you. I'm sorry. I thought of a thousand excuses but I could only find this: I didn't want to go. Auron will tell you what's happened. And if he refuses, then make him tell. He won't enjoy talking about it. I wouldn't either. But it'd help if you knew. It'd make me feel a little better, at least.

I'm sorry I can't come back. I tried to find a way for a long time. I couldn't, and then Braska...well...I'd rather sacrifice all that I have left to help him than spend the rest of my life searching for something I know I'm not going to find. I miss you. I wish there was a way to undo all this. But there isn't. Please understand. Even if you hate me, I'll be waiting for you at the end. I promise. It may take me awhile to get there, but I'll be waiting.

Send my love to our son. Tell him to be good. For me. I know it's not much of an incentive, but...there's nothing I can do about that anymore. Tell him happy birthday for me too. I know he's going to be eight soon.

I won't burden you with a big spiel about how I know how selfish I was before I left. I'll just say that much. I know. There. And I'm sorry. I can't help who I was before I was taken from you, and I can't help who I'm becoming now. I stopped drinking, you know that? It just kept getting me into trouble, so I quit it. I'm still homesick, though. Don't think I'll ever get over that.

What Braska, Auron and I are doing is helping a lot of people. Be proud of us. But after it's all done...I'm scared to death of who I'm going to be. What that'll mean. I'll do my best, though. Just like you taught me, right? Hajan keja ib.

See? I did pay attention to your Al Bhed lessons. Love you.

I have to go. What we have to do now...it won't wait.

I love you. Always.

Having tears on my cheeks had grown so familiar to me that I hardly noticed myself crying, however quietly. Auron's silence was a polite one; he'd stepped back, giving me a gracious amount of space to take in all that I needed to.

"The bastard," I sniffled, ungracefully rubbing my nose.

"Pardon?"

"He knows damn well I can't possibly hate him."

I thought I saw a hint of a wry grin on Auron's mouth. "He said you had quite a temper."

Nestling back into the blankets with my misery renewed, I let out a short, bitter laugh. "Only when he did stupid things. I'm...harmless, otherwise. He called me his housecat. A big, fuzzy, affectionate, declawed housecat."

"He did talk about you a lot, Amia."

The sigh that escaped my lips was a shaky one; it was the only response I could think of. I found that it also prompted a moment of uneasy silence.

Auron was the one to break it. "Jecht also sent me to take care of your son."

That woke me up out of my lament immediately. "*What?*"

"Heh...he said the boy needed someone to hold his hand."

"Tidus doesn't need a babysitter." I found myself scoffing wearily. "He needs his father."

"So do you, I'm sure. I swore an oath to Jecht that I'd take care of Tidus; I'll care for you as well, as long as you're bedridden."

"I do not want to live."

Auron bowed his head. "Jecht hoped that you would not have taken this so hard."

More silence, a longer one.

"Hn. Auron."

"Milady?"

"Jecht said that you would tell me what happened."

He was silent. "It...isn't pretty."

"Tell me. I have a right to know what became of my husband."

Auron sighed, standing still for a moment. Then he walked around the bed, sitting on the empty side of it, not facing me. His voice was low, reverent; he sounded weary and defeated.

"In Spira," he began, "there is a curse we call Sin..."

***

It was well past nightfall when Auron finished his story. Their story.

I shook my head a little, dumbfounded. "Jecht...so...he's..."

"Sin."

My eyes closed. "You say that name like it's a curse."

"It's not anything against Jecht. I wish I had been the one...but, he said it was the best way. And he was right, unfortunately. Sin is just...a dreaded thing. Everyone fears it. Nothing can escape it. It does not particularly matter who is inside the beast. People do not even realize that there *is* someone inside the beast. It does not faze them when one guardian never returns from a successful pilgrimage...no surviving guardian has ever so much as mentioned that the Final Aeon does no longer even exist. So the people have no idea. They just know Sin as something who kills and kills and kills some more. Not as the host for their god; not as a warrior's most hellish prison." He stopped then, stifling the sentence that he was about to say, and shook his head in visual embarrassment. "Milady...forgive me."

"You haven't done anything wrong. I'm just...tired."

"I should not be depicting such graphic, blasphemous things to a lady..."

I snorted briefly. "A lady? Man, woman, we're all the same in Zanarkand. The Equal Rights movement was over with centuries ago. Women don't get much special treatment anymore. It's just fine with us."

Auron shrugged helplessly. "I know nothing of this place. It was hard enough getting here. Be lenient, milady."

"Will you stop calling me that? I'm not the daughter of some feudal lord; I'm no princess. Call me Amia."

"Right...Amia. It's simply that the proper formalities in Spira require -"

"Auron, you're not *in* Spira anymore. At least you're not in the same era. So give it up, alright?"

"Very well, m-...Amia."

"Hn. It's...late. There's a spare bedroom across from Tidus'. You're welcome to make yourself at home."

He bowed slightly; it was proof that he was, indeed, a stranger to Zanarkand. Nobody bowed here. "Thank you."

He had turned to go and was about to leave the room when I decided to stop him.

"Auron...?"

"Yes, Amia?"

"...Thank you. For coming. I'm glad that Tidus will have someone to look after him. And thank you for...the letter. It means a lot..."

"You're welcome." He said simply, not giving any particular indication as to whether he meant it or not. "Good night."

Auron left.

So I slept, and dreamed not dreams but memories; sweet ones, rememberings fond enough to summon a feeling of contentment that I had not had for a long time.

Over the next week or so, Auron's presence in my home grew more and more familiar. Our relationship was something akin to a disturbingly formal friendship; him with his excessively polite detachment, I with my listless indifference. Tidus adapted well, but still did not particularly like his new guardian. And Auron settled into a bit of a parental role. He brought me meals, surprising me by knowing how to cook. After a few days, he got into the swing of things with Tidus, and took care of him accordingly.

So now I knew what had happened to Jecht; the disappearance, the lack of a body, everything. It did not change how I missed him, did nothing to ease my loneliness. But I was glad he still lived...somewhere. Regardless, something had begun in me and did not end with the resolution of my questions. My strength was ebbing. Auron had let slip exactly how shockingly thin I was.

He said it was unhealthy.

Another week passed. Auron began spending more time at my side. Not out of my own request, but because he found it unsuitable for me to be awake and alone so much. I didn't always say something, but I let him talk. Perhaps it was just because that meant I was hearing someone else's voice. I learned a lot about him - learned his own hardships, even before his pilgrimage with Jecht and Braska. Excommunication...in that era, it must have been a miserable punishment. In contrast, the churches had almost no power here. It was just a place that would let people who believed the invisible gather and praise their gods. So I enjoyed his stories as I might enjoy an odd science fiction novel. Never quite believing what I was told, but being fascinated by the stories all the same.

One more week, and I could feel it for sure. An emptiness inside; an inexplicable lessening of pain, a lightness.

Floating. It was like floating. Weightless.

A little bit like freedom.

It was well past nightfall on some idle weeknight that I felt myself move the blankets out of the way, sit up (why didn't that burn...?), stand up. Tremble, sweat from the effort. But that was alright. What could it hurt, one last time...

Hand running along the wall for support, I made it to Tidus' room, where the blue glow of his sphere projector told of his preoccupation with some game or another, or perhaps a movie.

All I had to do was stand in the doorway. He noticed me instantly, scrambling with an admirably reckless grace to his feet, rushing over to me; but not touching, never touching unless I told him to for fear of hurting his fragile mother. The sphere projector was utterly forgotten; he hadn't so much as paused his game. Why did I keep noticing that damn projector? Tidus' face was alight with that smile, the smile that was so very Jecht that I could not in the beginning bear to look at it. Pure joy was written all over his face - my appearances outside my room were unfashionably rare. But that wasn't something I could help. I smiled back.

He had whispered so not to wake Auron in the next room, but I hadn't caught what he'd said the first time; he repeated it, more to nobody than to me, and I understood.

"Momma!"

It was simply one word, spoken with a little bit of wonder and happiness and relief.

I smiled again, offered him my hand; he took it and I could tell he was being careful not to hold me too roughly, embrace me too hard, for fear I would bruise. I almost wanted him to. To pick him up, embrace him so hard that it suffocated both of us, then to simply hear the sound of both of us laughing...I missed that. But it was only a mild ache in the heart, a childish wanting for things long since gone.

He trailed at my heels to the living room, where I sat down on the sofa and silently beckoned for him to crawl into my lap. Tidus did so, and eagerly - I wrapped my arms around him and breathed in the scent of his hair.

It had always been a wonder to me how trustingly he lent his body to the one who held him. Out of instinct his head had nestled under my jaw, his arms around my neck. Endearing. Beautiful, innocent Tidus.

I rubbed his back lightly, slowly, a reflex from his infancy. So young. He was so young. And yet he was tied up in all this...

"I love you," I bent my head and murmured into his hair.

"Love you too, momma...you're feeling better, right?"

"I don't know. I feel...strange. But I guess I don't feel worse."

It wasn't a lie - but what was I supposed to do, tell him that I had risen out of my deathbed to see him, just one last time?

"I'm glad."

"Me too. I'm sorry I've been such a horrible mommy lately, Tidus..."

"No, you haven't! You're just sad, that's all."

Oh, if you only knew the half of it...

"Yes...I'm sorry."

"Don't be, momma..."

I stroked his hair gently, playing with the flaxen locks. So soft...all of him soft. Gentle. Beautiful. "It's very late. You ought to go to bed sometime soon."

"No, not yet." He snuggled closer against me, and I fought back tears. Such a wonderful child... "A little longer."

"Yes, a little longer. I see Auron's been taking good care of you,"

"He's *weird,* mom. He's got this huge sword in his room. He never lets me touch it though. And he won't say where he got it."

"I wouldn't let you touch it, either." I mused. "Well, Auron's got his reasons. He'll probably tell you when you're older."

"Was he in a war or something? 'Cause there are all these scars on him. He's really grumpy about it when I ask him."

"Yes..."

"What kinda war?"

I thought for a moment. How to tell him...? I finally settled for the 'ignorant parent' scheme. "I don't know. Ask Auron sometime..."

"Aw, but he never tells me anything about it! And he always talks to you about stuff..."

"Sweetie..." I kissed his temple lightly. "When somebody comes back from something as terrible as a war, they don't always want to talk about it. It hurts. Auron probably went through something very awful...and talking about it only makes you remember what happened. He probably wants to forget. He talks to me about things, but never about his war. He mentioned it once, but that was only in the beginning, when he was explaining why he came."

"Why *did* he come?"

"Because...Auron and your father were in that war together...and before Jecht died, he asked Auron to come take care of you and I, because he didn't want us to be alone."

Just the mention of Jecht was enough to make his body tense up. "But Dad disappeared out in the ocean. He didn't die in a war."

"Someone else took him...brought him back to health...but they wouldn't let him come back home. So he had to fight. Auron told me."

"What if Auron lied?"

"He didn't. He also brought me a note from your father that was written before his death...it verifies all that Auron told me. So that's why I believe him."

"I hate him."

I knew he didn't mean Auron. "Tidus, listen to me. Don't hate him. He may not have been the best father in the world, but he tried his best, okay?"

"But..."

I smiled at him sadly and kissed his nose. "He said to tell you that he says 'happy birthday.' And to be good."

Tidus was scowling, the poor child, but he stayed silent. So I held him some more, both of us quiet, just enjoying the feel of my son in my arms. I remembered holding him so as a baby, a toddler; the tiny breath on my neck, the impossibly small fists on my shoulders, curling tight around anything that came into their contact. He hadn't much changed; he was just bigger, older. But he still melted under a loving hand, and that was beautiful.

After some time I felt Tidus being lulled to sleep, and reluctantly decided that I should wake him. I would not be able to carry him to his room as I had so often done in past evenings; would not be able to sleep with him in my arms, for when he woke.........

"Tidus, sweetheart..." I brushed some hair out of his face, urging him out of his half-sleep more by touch than voice. "Let's get you to bed..."

He protested with a mumble that was muffled into my shoulder. But I had achieved my goal - blinking slowly, he crawled off of my lap and stood up. I followed suit, ushering him towards his room, unhurried.

The sphere projector was still on; while he was clambering onto his bed I turned it off. Strangely, he didn't protest. I turned and tucked him in snugly; he smiled a sleepy smile.

"Good night, momma..."

I leaned down and kissed him, hand stroking through his fine hair once more. Just once more.

"Good night. Sweet dreams, Tidus," I smiled. His eyes were already closed; I watched him for a moment as he drifted off back into repose, my eyes burning with unshed tears. It had been so hard to smile for him. So hard to smile when I knew that it would be the last time, when it hit me full-on that I would not see my only son, my dearest baby grow up...

I rose, managed a quaky smile at his sleeping form, and left. Shut the door.

Auron had awakened sometime during my escapade outside my room; he was leaning against his doorway, looking sleepy and disheveled and confused.

"Amia? Are you all right?"

I paused in consideration, and then wordlessly met his gaze. I walked up to him and took his face lightly in my hands, kissing his stubbly cheek.

"Thank you," I murmured. "so very much."

I left him there in his confusion, reentering my room, leaving the door open a crack.

Retiring between my sheets once more, I let the tears flow, mourning just once for everything I would miss.

I believe that was what lulled me to sleep.

A dream.

Or perhaps not.

Across the ocean; vast, beautiful blue ocean.

It looks different. Strange. But no matter. The ocean is ever-changing.

Sunshine. The sunlight is different too. The waters - that's what it is. They're clearer. The sky, cloudless. The sun hot and vibrant. A summer afternoon.

Across eternity.

Blink, and it all changes.

A little girl, a little yellow-haired child, resting against the trunk of a tree. Water fills the horizon; she resides on a lush island. The girl clutches a doll and turns her face up to the sun. A child of Tidus' age. Perhaps a little younger.

Tears streak down her face. She wants her father.

Blink.

Sunset. A dock. Weeping. A raven-haired woman falls to her knees, grieving for her lost children. Her mother - old, gray - comforts her.

Blink.

Midnight. A boy tosses and turns in his bed, crying in his sleep for the father that was stolen and the mother that surrendered.

Precious baby...

Blink.

Weep.

Early morning. Lost. Cold coffee, indifferent people. Curses, muttered under the breath.

The past.

Beginnings.

A smile. Inquisitive. Not mine.

His.

A greeting.

He leads. He shows the way home. Gratitude. Not his; mine.

Coffee again. Introductions.

Makeshift breakfast. Then parting; amused confusion.

Watching him grab a pen, fail to find paper; watching him scribble a number onto the back of my hand. Messy, but legible.

Beginnings. And neither of us suspected a thing.

Neither of us had a clue.

A little bit like freedom...

Remember it all, once more. Remember every little thing that happened to bring you where you are now, amazing or tragic, and let yourself cry from gratitude. Because one who has never cried has never laughed.

And it was wonderful. All of it.

Start from the beginning...

____

Note that "Blue," the Cowboy Bebop final theme, helped me carry this prelude through to its completion.

A million thanks be to Fire Rules, who originally planted the idea in my head about how to go about this.

More coming somewhat soon.