Author Note: This is a story of what a typical day in Emil's life might have been like before Richter inspired him to stand up for himself and before he started off in his journey. It gets kind of dark and angsty, but if you like stuff like that (like me) this is the perfect fic for you.

Just a warning to the readers, you will most likely feel sorry for Emil at some point during this fic. I did, and I wrote it. I don't know why I write such dark/depressing stories like these, but I do. But rest assured, its not all doom and gloom.

I was just pondering Emil's character and what his life must have been like and came up with this little idea. No spoilers, but you'll probably need to have played through most of the game to get the little alusion I made (though I hope its pretty obvious, otherwise I have failed epickly.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World. But you already knew that. I just had to say it because they won't let me post anything otherwise. Stupid rules...

Now please read, enjoy and review.

Fade Away
A Tales of Symphonia, Dawn of the New World Fanfiction

Dishes and silverware clattered on the table as a chair skittered back and fell to the floor. Emil grimaced, knowing what was to come next.

Alba slapped his palm down on the kitchen table and began to yell, "I took you into my own home, gave you my food to eat, gave you my clothes to wear, and this is the thanks I get?" He sent his dinner plate flying with a quick bat of his hand. Aunt Flora's meticulously prepared meal splattered across the hardwood.

"When I was your age, we had this little thing called 'respect for your elders!'" he continued, eyes boring into Emil from across the table. The boy's blond locks drooped forward to hide his face as be bowed his head in submission. His eyes were squeezed shut. Maybe this time, it'll be short. he silently hoped.

"But noooo. I get saddled with the most pathetic, disrespectful, excuse for a boy there is." He stabbed his finger into the air in front of Emil. "I didn't ask for a son, and I sure as hell didn't want you!"

"Alba!" From the adjacent end of the dinner table, Flora tried to mollify her husband. A mortified expression had spread on her face, though she was more embarrassed at her husband's behavior for her own sake than she was concerned for Emil.

"You stay out of this, Flora!" Alba bellowed. His wife's eyes widened, shocked at the outburst directed at her. Even so, she dutifully sat back in her chair and said no more.

Alba rounded on Emil once more with a look that the younger could not meet. The boy's eyes darted back to the floor after witnessing the brief marital spat.

"You got something to say to that?"

No sooner had Alba said this than he jolted around the table and seized a wad of Emil's shirt in his fist. His nephew uttered a short cry as he was hoisted to his feet.

"Alba, please!" Flora rose from her chair.

"Shut up, woman!"

His wife again backed down.

Alba's gaze returned to Emil, whose eyes were squeezed even tighter shut. The older man's lips curled back in disgust, letting the strong stench of alcohol drift Emil's way. The boy cringed as the rank scent stung his nostrils.

"Look at you, all quiet and low. You can't even look at me. You're like a…" Alba grinned, "a scared little girl!" He jerked his grip on Emil's clothing. "What've you got to say for yourself, little girl?"

Emil didn't want to answer, he just wanted to curl up and fade away. He didn't know what had provoked his uncle; he was scared and confused and just wanted it to be over. After a long charged silence, in which Alba waited for an answer, a pitiful whisper crept from the boy's lips. "What did I do?"

"Don't get smart with me, boy!" Pain erupted through the side of Emil's face. His uncle's grip on his shirt was released and he stumbled to the cold wood floor, crying out as he fell.

He could hear Flora gasp, but she said nothing.

"Tch, stupid boy…." His uncle's gruff voice was accompanied by the soft taps of shoes retreating from him. "I'm going to bed." The door slammed as Alba disappeared into another portion of the house.

Seconds passed by like minutes. He laid there, coiled on the floor in daze. His cheek burned where his uncle had stuck him.

This hadn't been the first time, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Flora still stood over him. He pretended she wasn't there, hadn't just witnessed his weakness.

But he didn't want to move, not yet. He just wanted to fade away. He just wanted to be anyone else, anyone but Emil Castagnier.

But those things were impossible and he began to choke, realizing there was no way to escape, to stop it, to change it.

He was who he was.

"Emil?" Flora murmured, seeming to be recovering from the shock. Emil imagined he heard pity in her voice to console himself.

He pushed himself to his feet and stood with his head down.

He told his aunt, "I… I'm going for a walk," and shuffled toward the door before adding, "If… that's okay."

Flora stood motionless. "O-of course, Emil," she replied in a quiet voice. After a moment, she crossed the room and sank to her knees. Without another word, she began cleaning up her husband's ruined dinner.

Emil sighed and pushed open the door.

A mild chill greeted him. Emil stood at the rail and took in the somber autumn evening before him. Steel-gray clouds churned overhead, cutting him off from the late day sun. The stale scent of browning leaves found him as he descended the stairs.

Few people were still out at this time, those that were jeered at him, or turned heel and walked the other direction. He was regarded as a freak in this town, a disrespectful little hooligan. They all thought so, and he didn't know way.

No, he knew why. Emil glanced sidelong at the statue of Lloyd the Great on another one of Luin's conjoined islands. He gave the hero a sullen glare before steering himself clear and heading for the lakeside.

I know what I saw, and no one can convince me otherwise.

He crept behind the chapel and down the stone shore of the lake. Often he came to this secluded little bank when he wanted to be alone.

The little waves lapped at the shore, and he pondered taking his shoes off and dipping his feet in, but it would probably prove almost hypothermic with the early frost they'd gotten this year.

He sat with his arms hugging his knees and gazed out at the gray waters of Lake Sinoa.

His eyes misted and the rolling waves faded away. The scene from earlier replayed in his head. His uncle's frightening tone, the animalistic look in his eyes. The pain, both physical and mental. It was too much.

Emil felt his throat close up, his eyes blur. The tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes stung, anxious to be released. He let them fall and uttered several shrill sobs. Large gasps of air were intermittent with even more sobs. He repeated this cycle, until his throat hurt and an ache began to develop in his temples.

His arms unclasped and he rolled to his side, still whimpering. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears, trying to calm down.

"Meow?"

The small sound startled Emil. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the sideways image of a cat.

Emil rolled upright. "Oh," he muttered in his throaty, tearful voice. "H-how long have you been there?"

The black cat blinked, then lowered its head, keeping its sharp eyes fixed on him.

"Oh…" Emil wiped his nose with a swipe of his arm. "Suppose you don't really want to see me crying, do you? I'm sorry."

The cat began pacing around him, flicking its tail along his shoulder blades. Emil watched it got behind him, then twisted back around to his left and watched it appear again. "So where did you come from? I haven't seen you around here before."

The cat circled around to his right again before planting itself on the ground in front of him. It curled its tail back and forth and looked at him with unblinking ochery eyes.

It was then that Emil noticed two sharp markings on the edges of its eyes and two more above them. They were typical for a cat, except these were a strange purplish color. Its eyes too seemed a shade off from the usual amber of cats, a more dusky yellow than the norm.

Emil studied these for a moment. "You seem a little strange for a cat," he observed.

The cat's eyes narrowed and it gave him an expression as if to say, "How rude!"

Emil smiled meekly. "That's okay, I'm a little strange too." He brought his hand down on the cat's head and began to scratch its ears. Its eyes rolled shut and it began to purr in ecstasy. Emil gave a brief chuckle.

After a while, too soon for the cat, Emil withdrew this hand and looked out on Lake Sinoa again. The cat, a little resentful, turned and stood like a sentinel at his side, gazing out at the lake with him.

It was peaceful.

Soon, the dull clouds overhead loosed their load, one drop at a time.

The cat and Emil looked at each other just as a raindrop fell on the cat's nose. In confusion, it looked skyward and was met by a soft plop if water on its forehead. It shook its head, ears folded back, and gave an irritated meow.

Emil, who had been smiling up to this point realized with a start, "Oh! You don't like to get wet, do you?" He quickly rocked to his feet in a panic, causing the cat to jump. "It's OK! We'll find someplace dry!" Emil scooped up the cat and hid it from the rain in the fold of his jacket. He sped off before it could protest.

Emil made his way back into the town proper, his shoes splattering along the saturated ground as he ran through the deserted streets. Everyone had retreated to their houses as the rain picked up. There was no one to impede him on his way through the town.

That's why I like the rain, Emil thought to himself with an edge of bitterness. He thought it ironic that the only time he felt welcome outside was when everyone else didn't.

He ran until he came to the bridge that lead to the part of the town where his house was, when he came to a sudden halt.

The cat poked its head out of his jacket, curious as to why they had stopped. It hissed and pulled its sodden head back in.

Emil stared up at his house. No, it wasn't his house; his house was in Palmacosta. This was his uncle's house; he didn't want to go back.

Turning away, he sought shelter in the opposite direction. Not long after, he found it: a large fishing boat drug up to the shore to dry. Funny that it was getting wet and would keep them dry.

He dipped his head and crawled under, the cat escaping from his jacket at the same time. It shook the moisture from its fur and went about cleaning itself.

"Sorry," Emil muttered, wringing the water from his own blond mop. The cat looked up at him for only a moment before resuming its bath.

Emil noticed that the way the ground was sloped and the angle at which the boat was propped up offered a good view of the rippling lake water. He leaned back against the mound of earth behind him and watched it.

As peaceful as it was, seeing his uncle's house again had only rekindled the fire from earlier. His mind inevitably wandered back to what had happened, and what had been happening for so long.

That familiar tightness gripped his throat. No. Not again. I'm not going to… Tears had welled up again, stinging his eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall.

"I'm sure," he began hoarsely, the cat taking notice, "that there are plenty of people who have it worse than me… right? There are plenty of people less fortunate than me. I… I have food, clothes and… and a roof over my head…." His voice broke. That was exactly what he had said. The harsh words came back to him.

His throat hurt now, and it became hard to breathe. He took a fistful of dirt and squeezed it until his knuckles turned white. No, he wasn't going to. Not again. Not after he had already shed tears. He wasn't about to start again.

He held his breath, clenched his teeth, anything to stop the tears. Immense pressure was building in his head. He tried to fight it but finally he had to take a breath, which took the form of a tearful gasp. Everything was released with that one breath.

Why does it have to be so hard? It shouldn't be this hard! New tears streaked his face, he was ashamed of them, but he forced himself to be silent. Why do I have to be so weak? Why does this have to happen to me? Why can't I-

"Meow."

The small sound cut through Emil's thoughts. He opened his eyes and found that the cat was sitting right in front of him, gazing up with its large ocher eyes. They held him, transfixed.

Without breaking sight, the cat climbed onto his feet and walked the length of his body, stopping when the two were almost touching noses.

Emil was quiet. Gazing into its eyes, his mind was calmed, his body relaxed, as if he were being hypnotized.

The cat began pawing at his chest, as if it were patting down a bed. After a moment, it curled up with its head resting on his shoulder. The low purr that came from its tiny body resonated through Emil's chest like a lullaby.

Emil's throat was no longer tensed, and no more tears stung his eyes. He felt calm, content. His arm came up and began to stroke the cat's satiny fur to a regular rhythm. It wasn't long before he drifted into a peaceful dream.

The cat remained there all through the night. And when the night had passed, the cat slipped out of the sleeping boy's grasp and faded away into the morning light.