Summary: Sometimes, Rikku thinks she was born the wrong way.

Time: 15 minutes-ish

Authors Note: No clue where this came from really...I just decided to write a fic that explains - in a vauge way atleast - why Rikku's so happy. And it's not because she's putting on an act to hide her terribal true self. It's just how she is.

Pairings: Aurikku is you squint and tilt your head to the side a bit, but it's mainly a comfort thing. GippalxRikku kiddie friendship.

Setting: Some time after Bevelle but before Gagzet.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Final Fantasy X, including characters, place names, personalitys and anything assosiated with Spira and/or the game.

When Rikku was 10 she snuck out of home with her best friend, Gippal. She didn't know why. She just wanted to get away from the sand and the heat and everyone treating her like glass because she was a princess.
So they snuck on a boat and went to Luca.
For the first few hours they had fun, skulking in the back streets, Gippal hanging back as Rikku darted out into the crowds of Yevonites, taking whatever items she could get.
She liked getting Gil the best.
It was shiney.

Then she lost Gippal. She headed to the Blitzball stadium, like they'd agree to do if they got split up. For 20 minutes Rikku wandered around, bleeting out Gippal's name, trying to ignore the disgusted looks of people who got close enough to see her eyes.
She didn't remember how, but the next thing she knew, she was being pressed against a wall a man who had a leer in his eye, his hand sliding up her skirt as she looked at him in fear.
And she didn't like to remember what happened after that.

She didn't know how long she had been pressed against the wall when she heard someone shout her name, a blur of purple and golden blond ramming into the horribal man who had his trousers around his ankles.
She didn't know what happened to him, what Gippal did to him, but after a few moments, warm arms had wrapped around her, whispered words echoing in her mind.

I'm so sorry.

I should have protected you.

She never told anyone. She couldn't tell anyone in Luca because no one would care. She couldn't tell her father because she was always told never to leave Home. She made Gippal promise not to say anything either.

The strange thing was, she didn't seem to care about it. She didn't feel numb. She didn't feel violated. She didn't even feel depressed. Because what was the point in that? It had happened and nothing could change it. She just felt normal. Her usual happy self.
Gippal tried to talk to her about it, asked her if she was okay too many times to count. She reassured him she was fine and then claimed they best head Home before someone missed them.

That night Rikku realised something.
Something she wouldn't even say out loud until 5 years later, whilst sitting at a campfire with the only man who could make her feel scared and protected at the same time.

They were sitting next to each other on watch, both staring into the flames, waiting for the sun to rise so they could continue on their journey to Yuna's death.
She wasn't even sure why she said it. Especially to him.

Some times I think I was born the wrong way, y'know?

Neither looked away from the fire.

Really? How so?

Flames dancing in front of them, almost as if they were alive.

When bad things happen, I don't care. Not because I'm acting. I just forget them instantly.

Embers floating away into the breeze.

And that's a bad thing?

The logs turning from brown to black to white.

It means I'm broken.

Grey black smoke rising against the trees, casting shadows in mid air.

You never answered my question. Is that a bad thing?

And orange glow fading then brightening every few moments, playing across their features.

I'm not really sure.

A burning twig falling out of the fire, landing infront of her.

You wish you feel pain and hurt?

Tanned and thin fingers with bitten nails picking up the twig, holding it infront of bottle green eyes.

Yes. No...sometimes.

Flames licking further down the twig.

Why do you want to feel negative emotions?

Burning dangerously close to her fingers, so close it's already burning her skin.

Because that would make me human. It would make me born the right way.

The twig taken from her hand by a larger, gloved hand, throwing the twig down before its flames blistered her skin.

You don't think you're human?

A wiry smile on her lips.

I'm Al Bhed. Are we human?

The slightest hint of mirth in his eye.

Do you have lungs? A heart? A brain? A body with 2 arms and 2 legs?

The arch of a cresent moon shaped eyebrow.

Of course.

A gloved hand ghosting over her bare shoulder.

Then you are human.

Hundreds of tiny bumps on her flesh.

Maybe I'm human. But I was still born the wrong way.

A deep chuckle and a hand placed on hers, not moving away.

Maybe everyone else was born the wrong way and you were born correctly.

Silence.

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