It's horribly easy to forget everything, to let it dwindle into distant memories and pretend he's always been a normal man. Usually, this happens early in the morning, before he's truly awake. The rising sun peeks through his flimsy curtains, casting a light on his face, and he's startled out of sleep into a twilight zone where past is nonexistent. In that stasis, he frequently catches himself reaching across the bed for his wife, and that's what truly brings him back. She isn't there. Hasn't been. Won't be.

That's only the surface of it, though – he came to terms with her death a long time ago. Naturally, he's still sad sometimes; he loved her more than words ever could have expressed. Even on her deathbed, he couldn't vocalize everything he wanted to say, and she had to be content with the silent, steady flow of his tears. No, that part of his life is done. He's no longer in mourning, and neither is Dajh. They're happy, especially now, after their adventures are said and done. No, there's something else, and it nags at the back of his mind… especially when he feels tempted to forget.

Things are returning to normal, as normal as the aftermath of single-handedly dissolving a civilization can be. Hope is living with his father, a pleasant man who sometimes invites the lot of them round for dinner and then steps out of the way, letting them become a family again. Snow and Serah set a date for the wedding, only a month away, and both they and Lightning are busy with the necessary preparations; everyone is invited, and Serah fits in perfectly with the rest of them – so perfectly, in fact, that it's hard to believe they didn't spend their entire journey together. What was salvageable from Cocoon was brought down to Pulse, and people were beginning to rebuild their lives without their crippling dependence on the Fal'Cie.

He and Dajh built their new house together, as best as Dajh can help him, and everything almost feels like it did before Dajh became a Pulse l'Cie, seemingly so long ago… and part of that scares him. It wasn't very long ago, and the fact that his mind seems determined to trick him into complacency and omission is concerning. Sometimes, he thinks it might be winning, when memories of the Sunleth Waterscape or Oerba seem a little bit dimmer than usual.

Every once in a while, however, he is thankfully reminded, and notes to himself how dangerously close he came to letting everything fade away. At dinner, one night, Hope's smile suddenly fades and he looks down at his plate, biting his lip to hold back tears. Conversation stops dead, and Lightning puts her hand on his shoulder in a display of comfort. "It's not the same," he says, his voice cracking. His hands clench against the table, and the bandana that used to hide his mark rolls up to reveal unblemished skin. "It's not the same without them."

"I know," Snow says, removing his hand from Serah's to place it on Hope's head. "I miss them, too." Sadness quickly claims the rest of them, and they spend a few minutes in silence as Hope tries to regain his composure and fails, several times.

It has been a week since he's thought of them, preoccupied with his little and his large family, and he feels guilty at how easily they slipped from his thoughts. For nights, he is plagued with dreams of dazzling light parades, smoking guns he hadn't the courage to set off, and crystals, and in the mornings he reaches for his wife and finds an empty bed.

Some time after that, he walks outside and sees Dajh staring up into the sky with a serious look on his face. Thinking he is playing some kind of game, he goes over and sits down beside him on the grass, his knees cracking.

"What're you looking at?" he asks, smiling at his son. Dajh doesn't look at him, but in response to his question he raises a hand and points.

"That," Dajh says, and as his gaze follows the finger's path he feels his heart drop into the bottom of his stomach. Cocoon's crystallized form hangs in front of them, suspended by the thin pillar that serves as a bridge between the two worlds. He really hopes Dajh has nothing else to say, but he knows that's highly unlikely, and he isn't surprised when he turns to him and cocks his head. "Daddy?" he asks.

"Yeah?"

"Your friends did that, right?" He's explained it before, more than once, but he knows it's hard for the boy to understand. All of this is so new to him, and he doesn't understand that, sometimes, it hurts him physically to talk about it.

"Yes," he replies, drawing Dajh closer to his side. Dajh puts a hand on his shoulder in the same way Lightning put her hand on Hope, and it amazes him that so young a child could understand what it meant to be his father's bulwark.

"Fang and Vanille." It isn't a question, but he nods, and a wave of emotions threatens to drown him in their wake. So many memories are brighter than if they were happening before his eyes again, and he thinks about Nautilus, the Palamecia, and a warm body against his, sniffling in the dead of night.

"I met them once," Dajh says, almost to himself. "When we went to the Euride Gorge, I saw them, for a second. And then, when I saw you at the Park!" He tilts his head and gives his dad a wide smile, not noticing that it isn't returned. "She was there with you. Right?"

"Right," he says in response, and he doesn't have to say her name aloud – merely thinking it puts a heavy crack in his heart. Pulling his son to him, he kisses his cheek and takes deep, shuddery breaths against his shoulder. Dajh hugs him tight, telling him he loves him, and he smiles despite how terrible he feels for consistently trying to leave all these reminders behind. He knows Dajh won't let him forget. "You're amazing," he whispers to his son, more grateful than ever for having him back.

Again, his nights are filled with vivid imaginings he can't lay a finger on, but when dawn bleeds through his window, it isn't his wife for whom he reaches. He doesn't know who he thinks is there, denting the other end of his mattress and breathing softly against the pillow, but it isn't his wife.

Finally, everything comes together one evening after Dajh has gone to bed, when Lightning sits in his kitchen and quietly sips at a cup of tea. She's looking worn down, dark circles under her eyes, and he sympathizes as he drinks from his own cup. With a sigh, she waves it away.

"It's nothing, really," she says, waving a hand. "I just never knew how hard it would be to plan a wedding. There's all kinds of crazy things Serah and Snow talk about that I've never heard of." She rubs the bridge of her nose in frustration, and he smiles.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I still remember my own wedding." Startled, Lightning looks up and fixes him with a stare he doesn't really like. Everyone always forgets he's the oldest, and that he's been through it all before… he doesn't mind, though. He just can't bear the pity that comes with it.

"I just wish I had someone else to help me, who… you know… gets all this." She waves her hand vaguely, and he's grateful for the obvious change of subject. A name hangs in the balance between them, but both of them skirt around it and try to leave it alone. "I'm not exactly what you would call feminine."

"Sure you are," he replies, giving her a little grin. "This whole wedding thing just isn't your forte." Grimacing in agreement, she swirls her cup and stares into it, examining her reflection in the brown depths. After a moment, he makes up his mind. "Tell you what: if you need help with anything, don't be afraid to ask me. My memory's better than you'd think. Maybe I could dig something up for you." He taps the side of his head, and she chuckles before downing the rest of her tea.

"Thank you. I'll remember that… I should let you go," she says, "it's late," and after a few more exchanged pleasantries and a goodbye, she leaves and locks the door behind her. Picking up her cup, he leans against the counter and runs it under the faucet. When he reaches for his own, off to his left, he hears a crinkling of paper and stops cold, confused. Is there something in his pocket? He can't imagine what it could be; he rarely uses any of the multitude of pockets on his coat, and he digs his hand into the offending compartment expecting to find absolutely nothing.

Instead, he pulls out a crinkled picture. It's faded with how many times it's rubbed up against the fabric of his coat, but the figures are still easily defined. He can see the outline of a man, his arm around a much smaller woman, and surrounded by chocobos. Her smile is huge, easily noticed white against the dingy background, and even though the man isn't smiling, his pose and the way his arm rests against her shoulders proves that he's happy, too… as happy as he'll be that entire night… oh, no. Shocked, he drops the picture on the counter and takes a step back.

It's him. Sazh… and Vanille. On their Nautilus Park Date, not so very long ago.

Shaking, he can feel his heart break right down the middle, leaving him cracked and helpless as he leans against his table and can't tear his eyes off the picture. It hurts him, more than empty seats at a "family" dinner, more than staring at a crystal, and more than avoiding her name ever could hurt. That photo is the only tangible thing he has left of her. Without that photo, she was confined to his memories, growing fainter and fainter each time he tried to let it all go, but now… Now, he couldn't pretend she'd never existed. Now, he couldn't forget.

How could he forget? He can't stop remembering. So many moments drag themselves to the front of his mind, displaying themselves in flashes of recognition and dense sensation. He feels a myriad of emotions, varying from intense anger to soft devotion, a promise deep within himself that he would protect Vanille with his life made long, long ago. What had he done, when he'd realized they were floating away from each other, lost forever in a world of sparkling, shattered crystal? Had he even tried to retrieve her, to recapture her and keep her safe? No. He'd let her go. And now she is gone.

Somehow, he finds himself in his bed later, and dry eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. That ache he felt when he watched Dajh crystallize before his eyes is back, except it's a slightly different hurt – he can't explain it, even to himself, but it's more similar to when he lost his wife than when he lost his son, and the implications of that terrify him. It feels as though something is pressing his body, squashing him until he can't breathe for fear of cracking his ribs. His heart pounds weakly in his chest, and he feels almost as though he'll be sick.

Hope was right. Nothing will ever be the same, not when they're gone… not when she's gone, the closest thing he had to a friend for a very long time, and… there's something else. It's there again, a nagging at the back of his head and this time, in his heart, trying to tell him something. He's too exhausted to decode it, however, and his worn body slowly shuts down as he gives in to dreamless sleep.

Again, he wakes up in that twilight space between cognizance and oblivion, and this time when he reaches across the bed, his hand meets warmth. Someone curls up against him, bringing a fragrant, flowery scent with them, and as he puts one hand on her back and holds her close, he knows it isn't his wife. In fact, he's absolutely positive he knows who it really is, but he doesn't want to disturb the soft breathing fluttering on his chest, and he doesn't want to open his eyes.

For now, Sazh isn't ready to remember.

AN: Er… so. This is probably kind of weird. I've read through it several times, and I know this is how I want it to turn out, but there's just something different about it for me…hmm. Well. This is pretty much a tie-in to my other Sazh/Vanille fic, Smile, but I think it could stand on its own if you don't question where Sazh got the picture.

The basic idea is that after everything is over, and things have had time to sink in, Sazh's memories of everything are sort of starting to fade away. He isn't truthfully forgetting, necessarily, it's just like how time dims all memories, but he doesn't want to forget. He especially doesn't want to forget Vanille, even if he doesn't acknowledge that aspect at first, and at the end… well. Technically, he's hallucinating, but if you want to imagine that Vanille really came back you can. : ) Whatever floats your boat! This story is named for the song "Set The Fire To The Third Bar" by Snow Patrol, which inspired this piece and seems to explain everything pretty well.