A/N:
PLEASE READ. :
Anyway. Sorry. I needed to do that. This is important. My chapters will be a lot longer than this. I will finish this. Oh, and. Yeah. All characters, even those from NORA, are important to this fic. This is a different take on how things could have gone. And the ending is ambiguous. Therefore, I could be right.
This is based on the theory (that is not so much theory as fact) that the people of Cocoon would not be happy to have to start over again and would probably be very tempted to take it out on those they think are to blame. Namely, our wonderful cast of main characters. I also doubt that the Maker would be happy with this commotion. Thus, I present to you my current brainchild.
Oh, and before you ask, L'cie, Cie'th, and Fal'cie will be supremely important in my plot. So, yes. Eidolons, magic, blah, blah, blah. It all applies.
Stick with me. I am so going to enjoy this.
PS: Regarding pairings...Heh. Try to convince me. (I already have some in mind, but, really, I'm a people pleaser at heart. Throw them at me, and I'll decide.)
I n t e r v a l s
"The future belongs not to those who wait…"
Prologue
It lasted a day.
The precious peace they had all fought so long and hard for- it lasted all of twenty-four hours.
That was how long it took for the remnants of the Sanctum to find them. That was how long Sazh had with his son. That was how long Éclair Farron had with her sister. That was how long Snow had with Serah. That was how long Hope had with his father.
That was how long they had together.
It was how long it took for the Maker to awaken and rearrange the world.
-o-
Vanille had always thought of memories as being akin to framed photographs on a shelf.
Most were placed in the sun and, unfortunately, faded over time. Sometimes, only the colors washed out, leaving her solely with a vague sense of the time and no real details of what truly happened. Sometimes, only the outlines dulled, leaving her with no real sense of time, but with bright, vivid colors that seemed to jump at her every time she looked at them. Those were the memories that changed a little with each retelling, memories that never happened quite the way they really did, and sometimes with different people than those who were actually present.
And then there were those other memories (the ones she wished she could forget) which were placed in the cool darkness, overlaid by shadows.
She'd always found it funny how those were the ones that never lost their color (their potency) over time.
And she would never be able to forget, would she? She'd never be able to forget what had happened. What she'd done.
None of them would.
Not even with the freedom of another (utterly different) life.