Disclaimer: Never have, never will own it, just like to play the games and screw with the characters. ;) Otherwise, it's Square Enix's.

Notes: Just the run of the mill shot at Zidane's thoughts during Kuja's death and post it after Mikoto rescues him. Hope you enjoy it. :)

Empty Space

"Zi..."

For a moment, I can't open my eyes. For a moment, I'm fairly sure I'm blind, numb to the world around me, but seemingly not deaf.

There's a struggled breath, coming from right by my ear.

Feeling returns slowly after that, the brush of warm air against my cheek, irregular. The touch of metal digging into my chest, silk kissing my hands, soft skin just against my cheek, softer hair under my face.

Smell after that. The chocking one of dust, the overbearing one of plant, and the tinge of blood. Somewhere in there, is a familiar, almost comforting scent, nearly lost, if it wasn't right under my nose. It's a combination of some incense that I no longer remember the name of, and a touch of something I only remember as smelling from the Mist. Secret, powerful, mysterious, as if waiting to disappear at any moment.

There's a rattle of breath under me, that metal pressing harder in for a moment.

"Zi...dane..."

My eyes finally open.

Soft violet silver, right in front of me. So different from my own hair, though we're supposedly much the same. The color isn't mine though, the feel of it isn't mine, everything about it is opposite to my hair.

Raising my head a little, I find I can only go so far, something pinning my back down, just enough to keep me there. Yet, I can lift enough to see his face, as those eyes look to me, watchful, even as their bluish purple depths are clouded, only half aware.

I can tell how tired he is, how hard it is for him to breathe as another breath struggles past pale, almost bluish lips. My weight isn't on him enough to make it difficult.

The fall...

"Zi..." it's chocked, like before, lost as his eyelashes flicker over those eyes, struggling to stay awake, to stay for a few moments longer.

I had thought he had died before. It was my last memory, seeing him slump just as the vines were heading for us. I had tried to cover him, knowing it wouldn't be enough,

And then, there had been nothing, till now.

"I'm right here, Kuja," it's the only comfort I can give now, letting him know he's not alone. I can no longer get us out of here, trapped as I am.

"Idiot, should have left when you could," a weak cough follows that soft rebuke.

"I told you, I can't. You're..." its hard to say it, to confess it again. We're nothing alike, we are on two sides of the spectrum. Yet...

"Your older brother," he has no trouble saying it, "You should have listened to me then. I didn't save you twice for you to end up trapped with my dying corpse." Soft whispers, I lean down enough to catch all he says.

"Don't say that. We could still get out," yet, I doubt it as well. It's too dangerous for anyone else to get through. I barely made it as it is.

And even if they did, I doubt they'll get here before it's too late for Kuja.

He's fading so fast...already turning cold under me, though I should be warming him with how close we are together.

My hands grip tighter at his arms, I make myself focus on the rest of his words, "What do you mean twice?" I can only remember him transporting us out of that odd dimension.

He doesn't answer for a long time, and though I can see his eyes are open, and there's still life left, I wonder how much awareness he still has. Is this merely stopping...Or is this because of the blast, the fall, the battle...

Not that the cause matters, the result is the same.

"Did you really think your arrival on Gaia was an accident?" it is a soft chuckle, bitter in some ways, and that cough rattles through him again, "Or that I was just trying to kill you?"

"Garland..." I don't know if I should say it. Our...Maker... told me Kuja was trying to get rid of his competition, that he found it sadistic justice to drop me on the world that he would destroy. That I was meant to destroy in his stead, in time. But after all this... I truly wonder...

"Was a lier to the fault..." anger, maybe rage if he had the strength. Those eyes brighten to pure fiery violet for a moment, before easing into their bluish haze once more, "I didn't want you to become like me..."

It isn't a shock, I had a feeling that was it. Something in these last moments just prompted it, and he confirmed it.

"You..." he's still got more to say, and I keep from saying anything. He doesn't have breath enough for my comments, "You wouldn't stop crying after Madain Sari. I...I didn't," one hand, ice like, touches my side, slips into the rips that are all along my clothes, "I knew..I knew you weren't like me... Garland...Garland would have broken you to make you his perfect angel.. But I..." Gasping, I almost move to silence him, but have to pause at his next words, "knew you were already perfect...just not an angel of death."

That gave me a little shock, to hear Kuja admit that there is something else perfect in this world besides him. I always thought he was just narcissistic...

"I forgot that..." it is quiet, almost little more then a whisper, "I forgot so much, except my freedom... I had to...My heart, my emotions...were worthless while I struggled to keep my soul."

A sigh, my own, as those eyes start to grow duller. There's not much left.

"No one could blame you, Kuja, for that... The deeds you did..." he's selfish, I know. He nearly destroyed Gaia, to buy his own freedom.

But really, I can't say I would have done anything different, if he hadn't had enough heart to save me all those years ago. Even if I don't remember it.

A breathy laugh, but he says nothing further on the matter, that hand coming to rest at my back, almost as if clinging.

"Did we like each other once, Kuja?" I don't know what makes me say it. It's a silly question. I don't like him now, I don't really know what I feel for him. He's the reason for almost all of Dagger's suffering, all of Gaia's, all of mine... He nearly destroyed everything, killed so many...

And yet, if things had been different.

"Baby brother..." a shaky breath, it's one of his last, I can feel it, "We loved each other once."

He stops after that.

He's not coming back.

The brother I didn't know. He's not coming back this time. I should know, I'm burying him myself.

And oddly, the first thing I am thinking while I do so, is that even in death, Kuja seemingly can't get dirty. As I lay him in the earth, I can't help notice that his perfect white skin, and silvery violet hair is unblemished. Not unmarked. The fall into the tree made sure to leave bloody scrapes upon him. But even then, they seem to be made there on purpose, enhancing the broken beauty, rather then taking from it.

Odd things, the thoughts one has when burying their own sibling. Yes, he tried to kill me. Yes, he tried to destroy two worlds, and succeeded in at least one. Yes, he turned in the end, just a little, just enough to save me, when I was powerless to save him, and yet, all I can think about is the fact that the dirt seems to avoid him.

Not the worthiest thought to be having. Yet, that's how it seems to be for Kuja. One small good act, seems to banish all the dirt that should be on him. I should hate him, yet all I feel is loss. Because I don't remember who he was, and I won't get the chance to find out now.

Somewhere, under the pain, anger, and despair, under the torture and hell... Somewhere, there was a good soul there. A good, fractured soul, that didn't get a chance to be set free.

While mine was. I, his replacement, was spared Garland, was spared the horrors that must have touched him. Stained him, though he seemed to be made of perfect glass.

Garland didn't make mistakes, except with Kuja. In the end, Kuja was his greatest mistake. I wonder, if in that, my freedom came from that mistake. Kuja had something to do with it. He said he did, for a good reason, rather then what Garland had said. I don't fully know who to believe yet. I want to believe my brother though.

But I will never know, as handful by handful, I cover the hole I made, and the body I lay there. Slowly, he disappears, and yet, the dirt doesn't seem to touch him. Cover him, but like a thin crystal coffin has been set in place between him and the ground, it does not touch him.

He's disappearing. And I'll never know him.

I don't understand the sense of loss in myself at that.