Disc: I do not own Golden Sun.
Those Three Words
By Empress Dotdotdot
-
The pain was unbearable, and it felt like pieces of rock were plugging his ears. He dared not open his eyes; he knew that only darkness would greet him if he did.
He heard the muttering of voices some distance away, and opened his eyes at least.
Darkness greeted him, as expected. He scrabbled in the rocks, tried to pull himself up and out of his makeshift grave, but it was to no avail. A few rocks overhead shifted, but that was all that happened.
The voices paused, and Alex could make out a few words. "What's . . . there?"
"Should . . . look . . . what . . ."
He looked up to see a bit of light slipping between the rocks, and tried to pull himself up more. It was to no avail; the rocks pressed tightly around his leg, and he could go no further.
"Help—" he tried to say. "Please . . ."
He managed to reach up and push his hand through the whole. For a moment, he was afraid, as he had gotten rid of the sole source of light he had seen in days. Every day he had wormed himself out of the rocks a little more, but today, the mountain seemed bent on keeping hold of his leg.
"Help!" he called, managing to yell this time. "Help me!"
Something was wrong with his voice; even though he tried to yell he still only heard a muted cry.
"It's . . . man . . ."
"Pull . . . got to . . . Sanctum . . ."
He couldn't hear the voices clearly through all the rocks; he yearned to hear them speak in whole sentences, to know that yes, he was still alive, and that no, he wasn't imagining things.
He felt the hands wrap around his hand and wrist and pull; a moment later, he felt the bones in his leg breaking and he screamed.
It was still muted.
"Seems like . . . pain."
"Hurry . . . might be bleeding."
"Should . . . rocks?"
"Yes, go ahead."
One of the pairs of hands left, and the rocks above him moved. The light nearly blinded him as he made out the shapes of two men standing over him.
"Help," he said, then said it louder in frustration at his own quiet voice. "Help!"
"Don't have to yell," one of the men said in a muted voice of his own. "We can hear you just fine. Oy, Greg, help me here."
The second man finished shifting the rocks and returned. He reached down into the hole and took the other arm. "Don't worry, kid, you'll be just fine."
"My leg," he said, "it's trapped. Can't get out."
The two men exchanged glances. "Are you sure?" The second, Greg, asked.
He nodded.
The men looked at each other again.
"Well, then, what do we do?" Greg asked.
"It's broken already," he added, still angry at how quiet everything was. "Get me out."
The men shrugged. "All right," said the first, rolling up his sleeves, "if you say so."
They pulled, and he was engulfed by unbearable pain again.
This time, he fainted.
-
He opened his eyes.
A grey-haired man stood before him, dressed in the blue and violet robes of a healer. He had a beard as long as his hair, and spoke with a low rumble of a voice.
The healer said something that seemed to be directed at him, and he struggled to understand what he was saying.
"I . . . don't understand," he said at last.
The healer raised his eyebrows, then shook his head and sighed. In a much clearer and louder voice, he said, "What is your name, boy?"
"Alex," he replied.
"And where are you from?"
"Imil, to the north. Near the Mercury Lighthouse."
"And how, pray tell, did you get in the ruins of Mount Aleph?"
Alex winced at the memory. "I . . . don't know," he lied. "I have been staying near Vale for some time; I must have been walking nearby and somehow gotten swallowed up."
His voice was even quieter than it had been before, he noticed.
"I know this may come as a shock," the old man said, "but we had no choice but to amputate your left leg. It was torn to shreds by the time Greg and Mark pulled you out."
"But I can still feel it," Alex said. He frowned at the muted tone of his voice—he was sure that once he got out of the rubble of Mount Aleph, he would be able to hear things clearly again. That didn't seem to be the case, however. "I can still feel it. It hurts, but it's there."
"That's called phantom pain," the healer said. "Your leg is gone, but your body thinks it's still there."
Alex tried to sit up so he could look at his leg, but pain shot up his back, and his head throbbed. He winced.
"Careful, you're injured," the healer said.
"How long have I been here?" Alex asked.
"A few days. We were lucky you didn't wake during surgery, or you would have been in extreme pain."
Finally, Alex realized he had forgotten the most important question of all. "Where am I?"
"The Sanctum in Vale," the healer said. "A makeshift Sanctum, I suppose, as the real sanctum sank along with Mt. Aleph."
"Vale?" Alex muttered to himself.
"You said you were from Imil?" the healer asked. Alex would have nodded, but his head throbbed too much. The healer seemed to understand this and continued anyway. "You wouldn't happen to know Mia, would you? She recently came to town with some warriors she'd been traveling with. They've been helping us rebuild."
"Mia!" Alex tried to sit up again, and again he regretted it.
"I take that as a yes." The healer eased himself into a chair beside Alex's bed. "She refused to heal you when she saw your face. She didn't look especially happy."
"She wouldn't be," Alex mumbled. He barely heard himself say the words. "Is she . . . still here? I need to tell her something."
"She is busy for now," the Great Healer said. "She is helping fight off the sicknesses that plague our village, along with helping rebuild. But don't worry; she won't be leaving anytime soon. You will see her, I'm sure. Get some rest. I'm sure she'll come see you again sometime when you are awake."
Alex closed his eyes, and was gone again.
-
It took him a week to be able to sit up, and he was sure that if not for the power of the Golden Sun within him, it would have taken him even longer. It was another week before he could eat solid foods on his own, and it took several more weeks for his other injuries (like his broken arm and shattered ribs) to heal. On the tenth week, he started learning to use crutches, determined not to stay in bed the whole rest of his life.
It was the first day in the tenth week when he first saw Mia again. She was speaking to Isaac and Garet, saying words he couldn't hear from his distance away.
He tried to balance on his crutches and stay still so that she wouldn't have to acknowledge him unless she wanted to. But he was still not used to his new, one-legged body, and he overbalanced and fell to the ground.
He said a curse word as he fell; it must have been louder than he thought, because Mia's head whirled around.
He laid in the dust and looked at her.
She gritted her teeth and walked over to him, taking him by the arm and helping him back into his crutches.
"Mia?" he said.
"Don't think this means anything," she hissed. "I'm only helping you because I couldn't live with myself if I left a handicapped man in the dust like that. It means nothing, Alex. Nothing."
"Mia, I wanted to tell you that—"
"Let me guess," she said, her voice devoid of humor. "You loved me and did it all for me, is that it?"
"No!" Alex said, taken aback. He nearly lost his balance on the crutches again. "No, no, not at all! I . . . you were like a little sister to me, Mia! What I wanted to say was that—"
"I don't care what you wanted to say," Mia cut in. "I don't want to hear it. I hate you, Alex. I hate you."
She hurried back to Isaac and Garet, who both wore puzzled expressions. Alex turned on his crutches and made his slow, hobbling way back to the Sanctum.
-
She visited at least once a week, being one of the best healers in Vale at the time. When the Great Healer was busy with the clerics, or helping another citizen of the village, she was called in to help Alex.
She said the same three words every time. "I hate you."
And every time, Alex tried to fit a word in edgewise and failed. She would refuse to listen to him, calling him on his betrayal to the Clan, his thirst for power, his greed, his manipulative ways.
Alex knew it was all true. He had realized it long ago, when he was still trapped beneath the mountain.
"I hate you."
He heard her say it again and again.
"I hate you, Alex. I hate you."
Even when she wasn't there, the words echoed in his head. He knew he deserved it. He knew he did. But was it really so much to ask that she let him apologize?
He knew he was wrong, but she didn't seem to realize that. Didn't seem to understand that he would realize how stupid he had been after losing his leg, breaking several of his bones, and coming within an inch of his life.
He just wanted to say he was sorry.
But every day, he heard her voice get a little softer, and he could only hope that it meant her stubborn resolve was faltering bit-by-bit. It was a futile hope, he knew, but he hoped anyway.
Today was no different from any other day. She had come to tend to him, and had not spoken to him as of yet.
But he knew that the instant he opened his mouth, she would cut him off. It had been that way every other time he had tried to speak to her.
He decided he may as well try. He opened his mouth and managed to say her name before she glared at him, blue eyes narrowed in anger.
"Don't you say a word to me, Alex," she said. "I hate you! I hate . . . !"
Alex was startled; had she just trailed off? He had seen her say "you" but had heard nothing. Perhaps it was merely a trick played on him by his traitorous mind; he wasn't sure. In any case, it was no different from what he heard any other day she came to treat him.
"Mia, why won't you listen to me?" he demanded, sitting up. "I'm only trying to—"
"If I want lies, Alex, I can go elsewhere! I've no interest in hearing . . . you!"
He blinked; that was the second time he had heard nothing where he was sure there had been words. A trick of the mind, he decided, a reminder of nearly dying under Mount Aleph. He dismissed it as such and continued. "Mia, I'm telling you, I've no intention of telling you any—"
"Be quiet, for once!" Mia said, loud enough that he could distinctly hear every word.
He didn't need to hear the slap echoing through the Sanctum; the feeling of it against his cheek told him well enough that it had happened.
He fell back against his pillow, clutching his cheek. "Mia! What was that for?"
"Don't you dare yell at me!" Mia said, standing up and whirling around. "I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear it, so don't you ever yell at me like that again!"
She left the room, and Alex stared after her.
"Don't you dare yell at me!"
He touched his lips. "But I wasn't yelling . . ."
He sighed and looked down. "She's never going to let me tell her. I can't even get her name out of my mouth without her . . ."
He could feel his mouth moving. He could feel his neck muscles working. He knew that he had said something after "her".
But he didn't hear the words.
He swallowed, and sank back into his bed. "Merely a leftover from being buried alive," he muttered. " . . . go away eventually, it has to. It's only a bit of lingering trauma, that's all."
Again, his throat and lips formed the words, but he heard nothing.
He curled into a small ball in his bed and shuddered slightly.
Mia continued to come for weeks after that, and he gave up on speaking to her. She would treat him, occasionally feed him, and bid him farewell with those same three words every time.
He would just smile sadly and give her a soft nod. She would get frustrated, but leave in a hurry nevertheless.
And he would watch her go.
He learned not to let what she said get to him, or at least he tried, but those three words still hurt him. As time went by, however, he learned to just smile and nod as she left him, those three words echoing on the walls as she left. He found that even without paying his full attention to her, he heard those words, clear as crystal.
The weeks passed by without much notice from Alex, save for one thing—every day, the voices around him got softer and harder to understand, and every day he heard fewer and fewer words spoken by both himself and others.
Save those three words from Mia's mouth, which never faded from his mind.
He eventually grew fairly accustomed to his crutches and learned how to adjust them according to his new balance. He became fairly good at getting around town on them.
But for whatever reason, he stayed in Vale.
Because as long as Mia said those three words to him, it was all right. She was still a little sister, after all. And even three words to him were better than none at all.
And someday, perhaps she would let him speak.
-
He found her standing on one of the hills just outside Vale, her hands clasped before her as she watched the wind rush over the plains and through the forests. Her ponytail was caught in the wind.
She was pretty, he supposed, but there were more important things to talk about right now. Besides, romance had never been one of his strong suits, and he wasn't much interested in her as more than a friend anyway.
He cleared his throat as he came up behind her.
"Mia, I've been meaning to talk with you."
She turned around to face him, a smile on her face. "Oh, good morning, Felix! What do you need?"
"Mia, it's about Alex."
Her eyes turned hard, and her smile became a scowl. "What do you mean, about Alex? I don't want to think about him, all right? I haven't had to see him nor think about him for two weeks, and I rather like it that way. Can we just not talk about him for once?"
"What do you mean, for once? Mia, we've never talked about him. Every time I try to bring him up, you cut me off or decide you have something else to do."
"I know him, Felix!" she interrupted. "He was a member of my clan! I feel like he betrayed me! Like he did this all just to hurt me!"
Felix was silent, the wind toying with his own ponytail.
"I'm so, so mad at him!" she said. "I can't stand to be around him! He deserves everything he got!"
"Don't you think he knows that?" Felix's voice was unusually soft when he spoke.
Mia was taken aback for a moment, but managed to find a reply. "Why would he know that? He did it for power, Felix, he's probably just upset that he couldn't get what he wanted out of things!"
Felix watched her, his expression staying calm and even, and said when she was finsished speaking, "What makes you so sure?"
"I know him, Felix!"
"Do you?" Felix said. "I traveled with him before he joined Agatio and Karst, Mia. He was my friend. I came to know him well."
"I knew him well too, Felix!" Mia yelled in reply, inwardly fuming. "What, do you think I didn't? He was like my big brother, Felix, and—"
"And it hurt when he left you behind," Felix said, cutting her off. "Mia, have you ever considered that maybe he feels bad about it?"
"He doesn't!" she shouted, turning away from Felix. The wind caught her cape and tossed it wildly. "I know he doesn't! He wouldn't!"
Felix sighed. "And how do you know he doesn't, Mia? Has he told you so himself?"
"He . . ." Mia still stood stiff. "I know that's how he feels! If I let him say anything to me he would only make excuses!"
"Have you ever let him speak more than a few words, Mia?" Felix's voice was harsh. "Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want to lie to you? Maybe he's only trying to say what he thinks you should hear!"
"He's not like that!" she said, whirling around.
And Felix had his arm raised as if to hit her.
"I've yet to hit a woman out of anything but self-defense," he said. "Don't make me change that now, Mia."
She stepped back. She had never seen Felix this angry before, and it rather scared her.
"Now it's my turn to talk," he said, and took a step forward as he lowered his arm. "And I want you to listen. You're being irrational, Mia. Alex has not wounded you in any way except by taking the Golden Sun as his own. He has never meant to hurt you, in any case, even if he did claim the quintessence of alchemy. Do you think the reason he did it was so that he could hurt you, Mia?"
She was silent.
"Well?" he demanded. "Do you?"
"I . . ."
"Even if you do think so, you're wrong!" Felix continued, his voice escalating to a yell. "I've visited him once or twice, Mia, and unlike you I listen to him when he speaks! I have heard him out! He thinks himself a fool, Mia, for even attempting to take hold of the Golden Sun! He thinks of you as a little sister! He feels horrible! And you know what he wants to say to you? Do you know?"
Mia, trembling with suppressed terror, shook her head.
"He wants to tell you that he's sorry!" Felix was still shouting. "He wants to apologize! He doesn't even want your forgiveness; he understands if you won't grant it! But Mia, not only do you not forgive him, but you won't even let him say he's sorry! And I'm sure he's tried to tell you more than once, Mia! Yet you refuse to hear!"
She turned away from Felix, still shaking slightly.
"Why don't you think about it for a bit," Felix finished, his voice quieting once more. "I mean you no offense, but Alex was a close friend, and I simply do not allow people to treat my friends like this. Even though he made a grave mistake, I have forgiven him. And I think I may be the only one who has."
Mia said nothing.
"Think about it," Felix repeated before turning and walking away.
Mia stood still, watching as the wind blew some of the clouds over the horizon and out of sight. The sun played over the grass, and it was warm.
-
"Alex."
He did not look up at her when she called his name; she supposed that made sense. After all, the only thing she had told him when she had visited before now was how much she hated him.
"Alex," she called again.
Her voice echoed against the empty walls of the Sanctum. Infinite times she heard it bounce back on her own ears.
He still did not look up.
This is stupid, she thought. He could just as easily have been lying to Felix; he's been lying for so long that surely it's second nature to him by now.
She walked over to him and sat down before him. He looked up, and she watched his face soften as he met her eyes.
He opened his mouth to speak.
"Wait one second," she said. "I've something to say to you first, all right?"
He shook his head and opened his mouth again.
"Listen to me," she said, and Alex closed his mouth. "I know that you've made a mistake, but Felix talked to me a few days ago and I thought that maybe . . . maybe I should give you another chance."
He sat in silence, listening to her.
"I mean, it's not as if I've never made a mistake or anything," she said. "And Felix told me that what you really have wanted to say to me for all this time is that you're sorry for hurting me, and that you'd still like me to be your little sister. And I thought that maybe . . . maybe I was a bit too harsh with you before. Everyone deserves a second chance."
He looked at her blankly and said nothing.
"Don't think it means anything," she said quickly. "I mean, it's not like I've fallen for you or anything; that would be stupid of me. And I'm still mad at you. Very mad at you. It's just that I realized that maybe I was being a little irrational. And I . . ." there was a pause before she could manage to get the next words out, "forgive you. I forgive you."
He gave her the sad smile and the nod that she had grown so used to over these past weeks, and she was startled. After all this time of telling him that she hated him, she would have expected a genuine smile and perhaps a thank you. But there had been hardly any reaction from Alex save his normal sad smile and small nod.
"I . . . I'll see you again sometime," she said, standing up and hurrying out the door. Maybe it was too much to ask that he smile and thank her. But still, she would have thought his reaction would be different.
Alex watched her go, and turned back to what he had been doing, still wearing his small, sad smile as he pushed some of his hair behind one ear.
It didn't matter, he decided, if he couldn't hear her saying those words anymore. He knew what words they had been, and so actually hearing them come out of her mouth was unimportant. They had always been those same words—words of reprisal, of chastisement, and more than anything else, of hatred. Why did he need to hear her actually say those words when they were still echoing inside his head?
He had seen the lingering anger in her eyes, and known what she was going to say. If he already knew, why should he need to hear the words spoken? He knew what she had said.
So he had watched her say them instead, knowing exactly what would have filled the silence that plugged his ears.
Words of anger—how dare he do this to her, how stupid he had been, questioning why he had taken the Golden Sun for himself. Words of reprisal—how could he be so self-centered, so thoughtless? How could he have thought that she would forgive him? How dare he be so greedy, how could he do something as horrid as manipulating her and her friends just so he could have what he wanted? And most of all, those same three words she had said to him every day she had visited—"I hate you."
She still didn't know what he needed to say, but that was all right. Even seeing her mouth form those three words was better than having no visitors at all. Even seeing those three words form on her lips was better than having her say nothing. Even a visit in anger was better than if she never visited him again.
So, for now, he would let her say those words, he would watch her say them, and he would be happy with them.
But someday, he thought, someday, perhaps she would let him speak.