Disclaimer: If I owned Suikoden, Luc would have stopped angsting long enough to snog Sarah. ;)
Smiling kindly, she wiped the tears from his cheeks, and he silently wondered how she knew they were there. She knew a great amount of things she probably shouldn't, he thought. At times, the little boy even questioned if she really suffered from blindness, but at the moment it didn't matter. What mattered was the broken little body in his hands. "I-I didn't mean to," he said quietly, voice cracking. "I didn't s-see it fly in and I closed the door on it, but I didn't m-mean to... It was a mistake.."
"I know." She took him in her arms and murmured soothingly. "We all make mistakes. Sometimes we don't pay attention, and accidents happen. Sometimes our emotions get the better of us, and we act irrationally. There are times when we act on impulse, and do not consider the consequences. Other times we believe that we are in the right until the moment is too late. It is only human for us to do so."
Luc pulled away just enough to give her a bitter, hard look then. It was an expression that should never have found itself on the face of a boy so young. He had stopped crying for the moment, and his voice was filled with an anger she couldn't ever seem to calm, despite her best efforts. "But I'm not even human!"
"Oh?" Leknaat's eyebrows rose, and her lips quirked with amusement. Luc thought she looked very pretty when she smiled that way, but he didn't really care just then. "You seem just like every other little boy I've ever met."
"You can't see me," he retorted petulantly. "I could look hideous and deformed and you'd never know." He stuck his chin out stubbornly, and would have balled his hands into fists, but he remembered the bird. Sadness overcame him; at the bird, at his inhumanity, at everything. It wasn't any fair.
"Hmm... You're right, I cannot." If Leknaat felt bothered by his rudeness, she didn't show it. For some reason, her lack of a reaction only made him angrier. "I wonder," she went on whimsically, "are you as tall as the low wall in the garden? With brown hair that's grown longer than you'd like? And a green tunic to match your eyes, dirty from playing outside?"
"Yes." Luc nodded, not at all inclined to lie. He eyed her suspiciously, wondering just how much she could and couldn't see.
"Hmm," She repeated, and appeared to consider it, and then she smiled. "That sounds quite a bit like a normal boy to me. I shall stick with my initial assumption, if it's all the same to you."
Luc shook his head stubbornly. "I'm not human at all. He said so."
Her features turned neutral and her smile to a slightly cold frown as they did when messengers from her sister visited, and he knew he'd gone too far. It was an unspoken rule not to discuss Him with Lady Leknaat; her fury was calm and quiet, but came to the fore with chilling ease whenever that particular topic came up. She rose and stepped away from him with less grace than usual, and turned to leave before speaking again. Luc winced at the detached tone of her voice. "Go bury the bird now, child."
It sounded for all the world like 'get out of my presence' to his ears, and he ran, crying in shame, guilt, and that ever-present, bitter anger.
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"I wasn't ready to see him." The young man said simply when he heard her approach. Luc knew she'd wanted to talk about it since he returned home from the war. Patient as she always was, she said nothing about it, waiting until he felt ready to talk on his own terms. At times, he was grateful to be left alone, and at other times he became furious with her for not caring enough to ask. Most of the time, he knew she meant well, and it was enough. Sighing, he leaned against the stone windowsill and ignored the cold dampness that seeped through his sleeves. "I didn't mean to kill all of those soldiers with the Rune."
Leknaat stood beside him, gazing out the window without really seeing the ocean beyond it, and said nothing.
"I thought I could handle it," Luc admitted shakily. He licked his lips as the memory of his gruesome work assualted him yet again, closing his eyes tight against the sight and smell of blood, torn limbs, and terrified men. It was both a blessing and a curse that the roaring wind in his ears drowned out the screams of agony he knew should be there. Taking a shuddering breath, he continued, found he couldn't stop talking once he'd started. "I thought I could deal with him and not lose control. But I saw him, and felt so overcome with anger... I uttered the spell before I... I didn't mean to. It was a mistake."
"We all make mistakes," Leknaat said quietly, "It is part of being human." She touched his shoulder and smiled sadly, though not unkindly. He turned away from her in disgust, and couldn't say which of them he felt it for.
When the silence became unbearable, Luc studied the stars and knew he sounded as confused as he felt. His voice trembled and reminded him of the days when he ran to her, afraid of imaginary monsters under his bed. It made him feel a new kind of disgust, that he should be reduced to a sulking child over his sibling. "...He didn't remember me."
"That sounds reasonable." Leknaat told him calmly. "Hikusaak would not want him to if he thought it would hinder his loyalties." The distaste in her voice as she said His name surprised Luc, for some reason. He still had trouble coming to terms with the idea that she could be just as bitter as he was, though she'd never made an effort to hide it from him, and he'd been familiar with her dislike of his 'father' since his childhood.
He didn't bother to indicate that he'd heard her, though he began to scowl. Jealousy mingled in with his rage and self-loathing as he recalled his brother's smiling face. That Sasarai could be blissfully unaware and living well and content while he existed with the horrible truth of their existence every day infuriated the young man. "He didn't care," he spat out accusingly, "he even looked happy."
"I would not have left him behind if I thought he would not be treated well." Leknaat said simply, but firmly. She sounded weary, as though there would never be a way to fully explain it to him. As though Luc could never understand it.
He turned to her then, green eyes searching her face. His scowl turned into an insecure frown that resembled one he'd given her years before when they'd first met. The wind mage felt oddly unashamed of how frightened he sounded, how attached to her he was. How much he liked to think she was his mother, and not Sasarai's. "You'd have left me behind instead?"
"No, Luc." She smiled and ran a hand through his hair without hesitation. Any other time, and he'd have swatted it away with some mutterings about his age and her coddling. "I would never leave you behind."
He nodded, and believed her, and felt better about the whole thing for a short time.
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Luc sighed for what must have been the tenth time and resisted the urge to pull his hair out. Sitting on the bed in front of him, the blonde little girl continued to cry, the weight of what happened finally sinking in. He supposed that he couldn't blame her for being frightened; he'd felt much the same way when Leknaat rescued him. The little girl's situation was so similar to Luc's own that he couldn't help shuddering. He tried smiling at her reassuringly, and she met his gaze with uncertainty. It felt strange to smile, a detached part of him noted blandly; it had been a while.
He knew when Leknaat entered the doorway, even if he didn't hear her. It took the girl a little longer to notice. Biting her lip, she regarded the graceful woman solomnly. Though he didn't turn around, Luc knew the smile on Leknaat's face; it had been etched perfectly in his memory since the day he arrived on the island.
"Well, this is certainly unexpected," she said. Her tone said it really wasn't. Luc snorted, watching the little girl as she looked between the two adults. "What is your name, child?"
Furrowing her brows, the little girl wiped at her cheeks. Luc felt relieved that she seemed to be done crying, and that Leknaat appeared willing to accept her. "I don't know," the little girl admitted at last. "I think I remember being called Sarah before the Bishops took me away.."
Luc did turn to face Leknaat then, frowning angrily. Could she still tell him, after meeting the bright, adorable, and horribly mistreated little girl for herself, that it was an unwise choice? "You know why I couldn't just leave her at that temple? They treated her like.. like.."
"As they had treated you," she finished for him quietly. Then she nodded in his direction, her smile diminished. "Yes, Luc, I know."
"Are you still going to tell me it was a mistake?" He demanded, balling his hands into fists at his sides. Anger made his face turn red, and he was vaguely aware that he'd spoken louder than intended. The little girl --Sarah, he'd have to remember-- whimpered and reached for his pillow, hiding behind it.
Sighing, Leknaat shook her head. "Do you understand the consequences of your actions?"
"What consequences?" Luc asked petulantly, scowling at his mentor. "They wouldn't think to look for her here, and even if they did, I'd stop them." Without entirely realizing it, he stepped closer to the bed as though to protect Sarah. The little blonde blinked up at him from behind her -or, rather, his- pillow and chewed at her lip.
"Ah." Leknaat smiled, throwing Luc off-guard. "I don't doubt that. But little girls require as much caring for as little boys, I'm afraid, and I am busier now than I used to be. You have given yourself a very important duty without considering what that means, Luc."
He hadn't thought of that. The wind mage had just assumed the seer would look after the girl; it never even occured to him that she would expect him to do it. "... I don't know how to take care of anyone." He admitted sheepishly, having the grace to look guilty for his assumptions. "I thought you'd take care of her."
"We all make mistakes." Leknaat replied blandly. "You have to accept responsibility for your choices and actions."
It occured to Luc that he could return the girl to the temple; they probably had not even noticed her disappearence yet. He could wash his hands of it and go on with his own life and problems. One glance downward at that tiny face, however, filled the mage with the same desperation to give her a better life that he felt upon first seeing her, and he knew he'd never do it. How could he leave someone else to a life he managed to escape? Turning back to Leknaat, he nodded, though she couldn't see it. "I understand."
"Very well," the seer approved. With a last smile at Sarah, Leknaat turned wordlessly and left. Luc watched the woman go, feeling at peace with his new task because she accepted it.
A small hand taking hold of his drew the mage's attention, and he arched a brow at his charge. She smiled up at him shyly, holding the pillow to her chest like the stuffed toy they had left behind. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and made a mental note to get her a new one. "...Well. I suppose you can use that tonight until we get you one of your own. Just remember that it's mine."
Sarah giggled, and Luc smiled at her, knowing he'd never get that particular pillow back.
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Somehow, he failed to notice when night fell. One moment, the sun shone on his battered and broken body, heating his skin uncomfortably and stinging his eyes. Then, almost suddenly, he was aware that the heat had gone, and the light was the softer kind that came from stars. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and torn clothing, and he supposed he must have fallen asleep for a short time. Next to him, something stirred, and he turned to see Sarah's pale face. She lay by his side protectively, and though they both knew they were dying, the smile never left her face.
"You could go," Luc croaked. Talking brought him pain, and his breathing hitched. "There's no need for you to die, Sarah."
"I've already told you, I'm staying," she said determinedly, almost defiantly. "There is no place I would rather be than here. With you."
"..Thought I'd give it one last try." He said with an almost-chuckle, finding the strength to run a hand through her hair.
Sarah shifted so that her head rested against his chest, brows furrowing at his weakening hearbeat. There wasn't much time left, she knew, but they were in no hurry. There was nothing left to do, and only one thing she really needed to say. "I love you, Master Luc. I have no shame or regret in dying by your side."
Luc allowed himself the first genuine smile he'd worn in years, and kissed her hair. "I know, Sarah. But I do regret that my mistakes will cost your life."
It was Sarah's turn to smile. He knew it was there, on her face, even if he couldn't see it. "To make mistakes is only human."
For a moment, Luc thought Leknaat had come to say goodbye, and he blinked. "Only human..." Had Sarah intended to sound so much like his mentor? She was his mother, he corrected himself. Somehow he'd find a way to let the seer know that. "Am I human, Sarah?"
Lifting her head, the blonde woman caught his gaze and grinned at him. He ran a thumb down her cheek softly and wondered when she'd grown into such a lovely woman. "Well, you have made a good many mistakes, Master Luc... So I'm afraid I'd have to say yes."
He laughed then, and sobbed, and held her until the world around them faded away.
End.