Chapter 1: New Moon

IOE: Hey, everyone! Ignira of Esperon here with a little fic. This is yet another fic where I portray Sheba as someone just generally screwed up. If you like this portrayal of her, check out my one-shot of her, Destiny, which has a few things in it that are similar to this one. Well, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I, the author of this fanfiction, do not own Golden Sun.

Faran wiped beads of sweat from his brow as he opened the door to the house and left the comparatively cooler shade of the indoors to enter the blazing exterior. A babe was cradled in his arm securely. The little girl he held, who had been crying, now shrieked in the much hotter environment. Faran grabbed her with both arms and held her closer to him, shading her in his shadow.

"Sh," he whispered to her, and made his way across the yard to his wife, who was busying herself with the laundry, partially concealed by a sheet hanging on the clothesline. The tall, lanky woman was humming merrily to herself. He was cheered by the mere sight of her, even if the sheet made it partial. He lifted it up with one arm to see her oval, merry face that was glistening with perspiration. She was a little startled, but she recovered quick y at the sight of her husband and gave him a warm smile, brushing some dark hair out of her lovely face. He greeted her with a kiss.

"Hello," she said genially.

"Hello," he said back, stepping closer and dropping the sheet behind him. He held up the babe.

"I can't get her to sleep and she won't stop crying," he said.

She gently stroked her daughter's face, then wiped some sweat from her own.

"What are you doing trying to get her to sleep when she hasn't eaten yet? She's probably hungry for lunch," she said, and then kissed him.

"You have more of a touch with them when they're older, I think, Faran," she said, and then began to walk towards the house, "Right, I'll make lunch. I'm starving and the shade of the house ought to be a bit nicer."

He followed her.

"Need any help?" he asked.

"If you could just play with her while I cook, it should calm her down a little," she said, and then glanced around the yard. "Where are the children?"

"Jacob and Anna are at your brother's house, playing with our niece. Sheba is missing, as usual," he sighed. His wife opened the door for him, and together they entered their house. Their baby was still crying.

"Here," his wife said, and he gently set the babe in her arms. She carried her over to a chair where she sat down and proceeded to breastfeed.

"Well, we both know she can protect herself, so I'm not worried." said his wife, referring to Sheba.

"Yes," he said.

"But I don't understand why she just disappears like that. What does she do? Is she bored? Lonely? Are the townspeople bothering her?" she wondered aloud.

"Rachel," he said, "I thought you said you weren't worried." He sat down, too.

"Well, I'm not worried about her physically," she replied, "Aren't you worried about Sheba?"

He sighed.

"I know she loves us and her people very much," he said, "but she's lonely. She finally found out why she was special and met other people like her. She made friends and traveled the world. She saved the world. Now she's back to the way things were, only she knows she is no god. The only people who are like her, who also call her 'friend', are far away."

He knew his daughter. Though Sheba had told them in detail about her quest when she first came home and had been quite talkative, that demeanor had waned. He'd noticed how lately, she'd been distant and melancholy frequently, though sometimes she would adopt a chipper, affectionate manner, but soon after withdraw to depression. He would frequently see her sighing and, he suspected though he did not have the power to see, practicing Psynergy by herself outside.

"Mmm," replied Rachel. The baby was satisfied. His wife buttoned her shirt back up and rocked the infant. Faran scooted his chair to be closer to his beloved wife and darling youngest.

"Do you suppose she found out anything about her family while she was abroad?" Rachel asked softly.

"She hasn't said anything. I think that must upset her some, as well. She went all over the world and came back still not knowing where she came from," he said thoughtfully. He sighed.

"Poor child," sighed Rachel, "That must make her fell alone. But she has us. And we love her very much, don't we?"

He smiled at his wife and nodded. He rested his head on her shoulder and watched the infant fall asleep in his lovely mother's arms.

"I'll put her to bed," he whispered to his wife, "You can start lunch. Let me know when to fetch the children."

He carefully received the baby daughter into his arms.

"Do you think she met someone? As you've reminded twice, she's been all over the world, and what with all those men she met and spent so much time with…and she is pretty…" said Rachel with her back turned as she set about the kitchen. Faran carefully stood up, babe in arms.

"I have no idea. And it's not really our business," he said, and meandered towards the crib.

As he set his youngest in, he could've sworn he heard something that sounded like a low "Hmph" from his wife.

-----

There had been someone, little did the couple know it, but their foster child preferred not to think about her.

The sky was almost cloudless. It stretched on and on for miles, an expansive blue blanket covering the earth. Right now, it was her blanket. The hot sun blared into her green eyes, so she rested a hand halfway over eyes to shield them.

There she was, the 15-year-old Wind Sorceress, so-called "child of the gods", lying on her back, sunning herself on a secluded ledge of Babi's abandoned project. Her staff was on the ground beside her, safe from the edge. Her blonde hair fanned out on the rose-colored stone. Her legs dangled off of the ledge that overlooked the ocean waters to the north of Lalivero. She'd been here for hours, alone with her staff and the sky, thinking and occasionally drifting off.

It had occurred to her that the Laliverans would be wondering, perhaps worried, about where she was, but she wanted to be alone. Their reverence disgusted her a bit. When she did return, she knew no one would say anything to her about her continuing habit of disappearing on her own, other than perhaps Faran, because they felt it was not their place. Some time ago, she would have been satisfied with this, but now it irritated, even sickened her. Sometimes she wondered if it was because she didn't care to be worshipped as a false god anymore, or because (and if this was true, she would hate herself for it) a part of her was fine with allowing the villagers to continue to see her as something greater than themselves. Sheba hated the person she used to be, who believed she was divine, who, she reflected, was spoiled, arrogant, and delusional. She snorted and sat up.

The ocean waters north of the lighthouse glimmered in the sunlight. Sheba was filled with a desire to be near them, to swim in the waves. She stretched. Perhaps she would later. She kicked out her legs and leaned forward a little to peer over the ledge. The landscape below looked miniature from this height. The drop from here would kill. She wondered how many times she could fall from astounding heights and survive.

-------

She let her staff drag a bit on the ground as she made her way towards her house, at the end of the dirt road. She knocked on the door politely before letting herself in. Inside, Faran was seated at the table, finishing up what looked like lunch. Her stomach growled. He looked up.

"My child!" he exclaimed, rising from his chair to greet her with a warm embrace. She hugged him in return and inhaled his scent. The embrace ended.

"Where have you been today?" he asked her. She shrugged.

"Here, there. High up on Babi lighthouse. I napped, I enjoyed the scenery. When will we tear that sore sight down?" she asked.

"Considering how we Laliveroans feel, it shouldn't be too long before it's taken down. I suppose we're waiting for the more temperate part of the year so we don't suffer so much from the heat," he said, and then grabbed a plate. He piled what was left of lunch onto her plate.

When he turned to Sheba to give her the lunch, Sheba could see that Faran was getting older. His sandy hair was starting to gray and thin, his face was beginning to line. How had he gotten so much older while she had been gone? Had she really been away from him for so long? Or had he been aging all this time, and she, having been a child, simply frozen the way he looked?

She accepted the plate and thanked him. They sat down at the table together. Faran explained that she had missed lunch with the rest of the family, and now Rachel was doing the laundry while the children went off to play, leaving him and the baby alone.

"Are you upset that I did not eat at the same time as the rest of the family?" she asked quietly. While Sheba loved her family, she felt very separate from them, though she was not as separate from Faran. Faran seemed to understand her somehow, some way. He smiled warmly and shook his head.

"How were you supposed to know when your family was eating? No, you want time alone to think, and that's fine if you miss out on eating with us," he said kindly, and then spoke softer: "You haven't been yourself lately."

"I know," she said, and felt a little guilty that Faran was noticing it. She didn't want him to worry. She hadn't been feeling too much like herself lately, though sometimes she regained a bit of herself. Melancholy and a pervading loneliness hung over her like a cloud for most of the time, however. Sometimes she would lose herself entirely, but she didn't think Faran had seen these episodes yet. She put those times from her mind; they frightened her.

"Rachel asked me today if I think you've met a man. Are you lovesick?" he jested, grinning.

Sheba knew he meant well, but this only made her insides tighten. She'd met someone, felt strong feelings for someone incredible, but it was not what Rachel would expect. It drove her mad. She wasn't sure if she was so much 'lovesick' as simply lonely. She missed all of her friends, the connections to who she really was, but how could she miss this one, singular person the most? Faran was to know none of this. No one was.

"Don't mock me, Faran," she said instead, managing a smile.

"If anything troubles you, you know you can come to me, Sheba," said Faran gently.

She smiled. She had always felt that Faran was her father, always, no matter who was actually responsibly for her existence. She knew Faran cared for her as much as she did for him, if not more, but he was not the same person--to her--that he used to be. She hated to admit it, but he would always be a stranger to her world, where she belonged. She was isolated from everyone here in Lalivero, even Faran, and she hated it.

"I know," she said, "Don't worry about me, Faran. I'll be fine eventually."

-----

"How often have these episodes been happening?"

More and more every day.

"What happens to you?"

I can't remember very clearly afterwards, like it was a dream. I don't really know what happens. When I come back, sometimes I'm not where I remember being a second ago.

"Is anyone with you?"

I'm always alone.

"Any idea what could be causing it?"

…

"I said—"

No.

"That sounds awful."

I'm scared.

"I would be, too. You should tell someone."

I'm telling you. Are you afraid of me?

"…no. You're just…sick, I guess. That's nothing for me to be afraid of. It's something for me to worry about. I'm worried about you."

That's…very kind. It-it really means a lot coming from you.

"Yes…"

I miss you. A lot. More than everyone else.

"Sheba, I miss you, too, but not like that. You can't miss me like that, either. Stop it."

You know, I think I've always been sick. I think I can get better again if I'm back with you…uh, that is, a-all of you again. I need to be with other people like me. I was fine when we were together. Uh, by 'we', I meant…meant all of us.

"Good. Well, if you think that'll help, why not visit us or something? We'd be happy to see you."

And hey, listen, what I said about missing you—

"SHEBA. STOP."

---

It annoyed her that occasionally she'd even—how embarrassing—have imaginary conversations, all of which ended with an argument or her saying or doing something stupid. It confused her that she couldn't even fantasize properly. She sighed.

"I have got to get out of here before I angst myself to death," she said to herself, "So, I'm leaving tonight."

If only she'd had the Teleport Lapis or a boat to herself. Sure, the Laliveroans would be happy to give their messiah a boat of her own, but she didn't want to take advantage of them. She didn't know where exactly she was going to go or for how long, but she knew she had to escape from Lalivero, at least for a little while.

This is stupid, but I'm going to do it anyway. What would she say to Faran? She shrunk from the idea of making him worry about her and…after all, hadn't he just told her earlier that he understood if she had to disappear on her own for a little while? She rolled off her bed.

She had a room to herself in Faran's house. It was large enough to fit more beds in, if she'd wanted to for some reason. The wooden floor was cool to her touch. She was lying on her stomach. She reached under her bed and felt around the odd objects under it until she was certain her fingers were grasping her old bag. She pulled it out. It still smelled like the sea air after all that time at sea on Piers' ship. She smiled and hugged it to her chest.

Once all of her packing was done, she headed downstairs and grabbed everything edible she could find. She had to be careful; Faran and Rachel slept with the baby in the next room. Turnips, two loaves of bread, and three papayas were stuffed in for food. She tried to make as little noise in the kitchen as possible. She set her staff on the ground and opened the back door. Sheba squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the well in the yard.

There was not a beam of moonlight tonight. She carefully walked across the yard in the dark, feeling the moist soil with her sandals, careful to trip or step on anything sharp. She felt guilty for disrupting the garden beds, but she didn't want to risk waking anyone up by searching for and lighting an oil lamp. Eventually, arms outstretched, she was fondling something made of metal. This was it. Carefully, she pulled out her old canteen and proceeded to fill it with water as silently as possible, but the damned chain on the well's bucket creaked. She held her breath and listened for any sounds of stirring, but all she would hear was cicadas.

Canteen filled, she hooked it onto her bag. She had to go back inside to get her staff. She backtracked to the backdoor and opened it. Her feet felt the dirt floor for her beloved staff when she heard a soft clearing of the throat, and she was so startled she let out a yelp.

"Sheba? I heard the back door. What are you doing?" she heard Faran's voice from the kitchen table. She took a deep breath.

"I…uh, I've just decided…." She said slowly.

"Decided what?" asked Faran.

"I'm going away. Not forever, I mean, but for a little while," she said.

"Sheba," Faran's voice was harsh, but quiet so that he wouldn't wake the people in the next room, "You were planning on running away without saying anything? What has gotten into you?"

"F-Faran, I'm sorry," she said.

"Sheba, if there's something wrong, you can tell us about it. Don't be selfish and leave like this without telling the people who love you. We already had to endure not knowing where you were, if-if you were even alive when Venus…" his voice was shaking a bit. Sheba had never seen Faran like this…or rather heard, for he was concealed in shadow. She hated herself. What the hell had she been doing, abandoning her family without a word in the dead of night? She was as selfish as she'd been in the days when she enjoyed being worshipped as the child of the gods.

She moved through the dark towards where his voice was coming from. She drew in a sharp breath when she banged her knee on the kitchen table, but soon she found Faran's hand and squeezed it. He was sitting down. She found his shoulders and hugged him.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. He hugged her back, a little more tightly than usual. Was he crying? She hugged him tighter, too. She knew he wanted her to stay. She could've waited until morning, but she was much too eager to leave from this place now, not later.

"I'm leaving now. Don't worry; I'll be back. And I won't be gone for as long as last time," she said, hoping what she said was true.

She heard him draw in a breath as though he was about to speak, but he said nothing. Sheba let go and made her way to the door again. It occurred to her that she needn't worry about leaving in secret anymore. She reached into her bag and pulled out a torch, then lit it with a tinderbox. She heard Faran get up from his seat and return to his bedroom. Torch lit, she put away the tinderbox, opened the back door, and stepped into the night once more.

---

She'd been walking for hours into the night. The sky was beginning to become pink behind her, but Sheba was racing the dawn for now. She did not know why she'd walked all through the night and felt no desire to consider how much longer she would walk until she would stop. There were a lot of things that she'd been doing lately for reasons not entirely sensible to her; the current journey, for instance. She was hardly tired now; she felt rather numb, actually, perhaps because her mind was entirely focused on moving.

The road wound into the mountains that concealed the Suhulla desert. She had plenty of water to go through; she hadn't touched her canteen this whole time. She searched the skies for any sign of the moon, recalled that it had been absent the night before, but looked for it anyway.

Afterwards, she would not remember what had happened after she'd reached the desert, except, for a brief moment, unbridled joy as she let the winds and dust swirl about her.

---

She had been lying in bed at the village inn for the past few days, bewildered and confused, but unable to leave her bed for fear of aggravating her injuries. The local Healer had managed to attend to her injuries, which had included various gashes and multiple fractures in her ribs and limbs, the worst being her left arm. Her left arm was now hanging in a sling at her side. There were a few bandages on her ribs now, but they were concealed by her clothing. Other than the Healer, Sheba had seen no one other than the inn's cook to bring her meals, but glimpses of him were very brief. The Healer, she had learned, knew nothing of why she was there, but only knew that she had arrived unconscious. Once, Sheba managed to snatch a thought from him, which led her to this woman's house. This woman, Sheba learned, had found Sheba several days ago unconscious and had immediately run her to the inn.

---

"Mind Read," she whispered.

Images flowed into her head, memories as though they were her own. There was a teenaged girl, flying high above the ground, carried on by the high winds, dust flying everywhere and dirtying her hair and robes. She, unlike the debris flying beside her as fellow passengers on the powerful gusts of the Suhulla, was not being wildly whipped around, but rather looked like she was riding an invisible wave on her stomach, limbs outstretched, a wingless angel with an expression that would chill any observer's blood. Her face was a disturbing portrait of demented delight, somehow a twisted parody of a child's elation. Her green eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open in a huge grin, letting out peals of uncontrollable laughter.

As she neared the edge of the mountain range, she seemed to pay special attention to a cliff face, or was it something on the cliff face? She glanced at the safe ground, where it would be reasonable to guess that with such control of the winds she rode, she might've landed unharmed. She then focused her attention on the cliff face once more, looking as excited as a child about to do something particularly amusing, and she made a quick dive for the rock, as if torpedoing through water, then outstretched her limbs once more, as though making to embrace an invisible figure on the rock. With a sickening smacking noise, the angel's body smashed onto the rock. She fell lifeless to the ground, and the joy ride on the air was finished.

The watcher hastened to the spot, screaming. As she neared the body and leaned close, she saw that the girl was not dead. She was lying on her back, her left arm bent at a horribly unnatural angle, and a cut bled down her face. She was giggling so hard that she could not speak, could hardly breathe, it appeared, and as her green eyes met the spectator, she controlled her cachinnation. She closed her eyes then, and was limp.

---

Sheba was not dead. She was standing in a stranger's bedroom in the dead of night. Her hand, now covered with cold sweat, was resting on the woman's forehead as she slept. Sheba swiftly withdrew her hand, and stood there, shaking. Her stomach churned horribly, and she felt the blood rushing from her head. She used all of her might to suppress the vomit struggling to leave her system.

The images Sheba had gathered from the woman still burned in her mind. She felt weak. She was very pale. She couldn't suppress the sick any longer; she raced out of the house and promptly vomited in the dirt. The spasms would not subside for a few moments, but her stomach was empty. She tried to take deep breaths in order to quell the dry heaves.

"What's happening to me?" she whispered between wretches. Tears streamed down her face.

At that moment, she felt more alone than ever. There was an enemy that she could not understand. She was sick, so sick. What was she going to do? What could she do? What exactly was wrong with her?

She finally managed to control her spasms. She was breathing short, shallow breaths, panicking. Without warning, she sprinted off-- to where, she did not know. In seconds, she was out of the village and in the wild again, her feet carrying her farther and farther away. She finally stopped by a river after a while, panting heavily, legs burning from the sudden burst. It was hard to run with your arm in a splint. Her wounds hurt again, but they weren't bleeding. Her lungs burned. She struggled to catch her breath.

Where would she go? She had to go somewhere. It was too dangerous to be alone with herself, but if she was with other people, was she a danger to them? Her mind whirled. She was sick of being alone. Didn't she leave Lalivero because she wanted to escape her melancholy? She had suspected that she was going mad before, but now she had confirmed her suspicions with the worst episode she had ever known. Where could she go now? She was isolated from everyone.

I don't want to be alone anymore. I want to be safe… She felt like a child. The world felt like an empty void to her. She'd never felt such a strong desire for companionship, for comfort. She bent towards the river's water to wash her face and mouth. Her throat was now burning terribly from the regurgitation. The water was cool. She let it run down her face and mingle with her salty tears. She took a deep breath and tried to suppress a sob. She cupped her hands and scooped some water, then gargled it, trying to rinse her burning throat. She spit out the water in the grass and repeated the process several more times until she felt better. She was still having trouble breathing properly, and was still shaking. She bent over the water again and tried to see her reflection in the water. She could only see a silvery reflection of the tiny sliver of moon that was out tonight.

And suddenly, it came to her. She knew exactly where she wanted to be. She was still afraid of herself, still afraid of being alone, and now afraid of how her friends might react of she relapsed, but screw it. She wanted to feel like she was home again, and she'd never felt more at home than with her friends.

She had to push away a memory that resurfaced then. The warmth of someone else's lips meeting hers, soft skin touching hers. It hurt to think about it.

Her bags and—she felt as though she'd lost a good friend when she realized—her beloved staff were probably scattered about the Suhulla desert. She had nothing but these clothes now. She wore a battered, dirty robe over a simple cotton dress. She kicked off her sandals, which were so worn and broken in places that they were barely functional, and sat on the bank, letting her legs drift in the chilling water.

The hell with it. She was going to Vale. She was going to see them again; Isaac, Garet, Felix.

She was going to see Jenna again.

----

Isaac was full to bursting. He wondered if he would manage to make it to his house--a short walk away, though it was-- without exploding. He was sitting at the large, oaken dining table where he had just enjoyed a dinner fit to be a feast with his best friend and his family. All in all, it had been an enjoyable evening, but it was rather late and Garet's mother had once again caused Isaac to overeat. He groaned and leaned back in his chair, allowing his arms to fall at his sides. He despised himself for being to polite to refuse the extra helpings of food offered to him.

"You look so defeated," chuckled Garet, entering from the kitchen. He apparently had just finished helping his family with the dishes. Isaac had politely offered to help, and was happy to be refused, for he hadn't wanted to stand up if he could help it. Isaac groaned again and scooted back his chair. His long legs stretched out across the floor and he slouched.

"I think your mum's out to get me," he told him. Garet grinned. Isaac lifted his arms, zombie-like.

"Help me up," he said pathetically.

His friend obliged, firmly grasping Isaac's arms and helping him to his feet.

"Think you can make it to your house?" he asked. Isaac nodded.

"See you tomorrow," he said, yawning.

Outside, it was very dark. A cool breeze blew through the air, lifting some of Isaac's messy dirty blonde hair out of his face. He was beginning to feel tired now. He rounded a corner of his house, now almost completely rebuilt, to see a pair of long legs clad in boots dangling over his front door. He blinked at them blearily.

"What's a pair of legs doing hanging over my door? Whose are these?" he asked aloud, almost certain he knew. One of the legs kicked him. He looked up to see a tall, pretty girl with long, thick auburn hair holding several pieces of paper in her hands. She grinned at him.

"Hey, it's me," said Jenna, "I've been waiting for you. Thought you'd never get back."

"What're you holding?" he asked, pointing at the papers in her hands.

"You don't recognize it?" she asked, holding them up tantalizingly.

"Is that the letter I forgot at your house this morning?" he asked. She nodded.

"The envelope accidentally unsealed itself, I suppose?" he asked.

"Felix did it," she said, and he knew she was lying.

"Come down here and gimme that," he said, motioning, "It's from Mia."

Jenna looked at the letter in her hands.

"Want to know what's in it? Mia says it's very frustrating being in the middle of a love triangle between you and Garet," she said then added thoughtfully, "Actually, it's more like a square if you include Alex."

"Jenna, give me the letter," he repeated.

"Fine, fine," she said, "You know, she'd never write stuff like that to you. She writes all about it in her letters to me, though."

"Enough joking," he said.

"Fine. Turn around; my skirt's gonna fly up when I jump off," she instructed, and he did what he was told. He heard a thump behind him and a rustle of paper. He turned to see Jenna dusting off her skirt. She thrust the letters in his hands.

"Here you go," she said with a self-satisfied smirk.

Isaac folded up the letters and put them in his pocket.

"You know, everyone wrote for a few weeks after they went to their respective homes for a while--well, except Mia keeps writing. Anyway, everyone but Sheba wrote after they left Vale. She must be really enjoying herself in Lalivero," he said carefully, watching his friend's expression. She raised an eyebrow and her smile seemed to falter a little.

"What makes you bring that up all of a sudden?" she asked him. He shrugged.

"Just remembered because of Mia's letter," he replied.

"Oh," she said.

"Moon's little, but pretty tonight," he changed the subject, pointing to the crescent behind them. Her smile faltered a little more.

"I hate the moon," she said casually, tossing her hair and starting off towards her house.

They waved good-bye to each other and Isaac crept into his house, up the stairs, and, at long last, into his bed.

---

IOE: Well, that's the end of the first chapter! Still more to come! And though this chapter was mostly focused on Sheba, we'll narrate for other characters, too. Hmm, this wasn;t really the sort of ending I susally do…not sure if I'm happy with it. So, a little backstory for this: I was itching to ship ShebaJenna and wondered if I could christen it. I checked Golden Sun wikia and was disappointed to find it was not listed! So, I checked fanfiction and searched for a romance genre starring Sheba and Jenna. To my surprise, only one fic came up! What? I thought Sheba and Jenna would be great together! So, I christen this pairing strawberry shipping, after the one fic I found and I guess because you might get strawberry blonde if you mix their hair colors. Special thanks to Strawberry's author, LittleLinor,­­ for letting me do this!