Lost

a Final Fantasy IX fanfiction by andrivette

Her heart had raced.

It had been so long since her heart had raced from anything other than worry or fear or confusion, but when he sat next to her, it sped so fast she thought it might burst from the mere shock.

The entire time it hardly let up, and then when her old friend appeared, when Zidane returned and her heart fluttered with joy and relief, she felt something else seize her heart as he and the queen embraced.

Yearning.

She had managed to suppress it long enough to celebrate Zidane's return and learn of his escape, how he had help from the moogles from Madain Sari and the dwarves from Conde Petie until he was able to travel back to the Mist Continent after finding a way back into Fossil Roo - no easy task - and from there, to the closest destination: Lindblum. His Tantalus brothers took him in without hesitation, and from there, Zidane went back with them to the only place he could.

To Alexandria - to the place where his love was waiting for him.

The knowledge of Zidane's return and everyone's good health and happy lives was joyous to Freya, and in turn she shared with them the news of Burmecia's slow but continuous return to normalcy.

Yet sharing that, though it was good news as well, tugged at Freya's heart, and she was not sure why.

Freya looked at him again - Amarant - and she departed from the castle and into the city for the night.

Her partner. That was what she had thought when she saw him.

Freya thought that her apprehension over Fratley would fade in time, as such things usually did, especially since he was her love. She had no reason to feel that way. It was silly!

But he did not remember her, and something in the back of Freya's mind kept saying that she did not remember him either.

It had been so long, and Freya had changed so much. In a way, Freya feared the return of his memory; she feared disappointing him with the knowledge of how different she had become.

But even now, they had nothing - no common memories, no shared experiences, no similar feelings - nothing but his faint memories of knighthood and duty were their common bonds.

"I love you, Freya," he had told her, but she could not bring herself to return it - she did not know Fratley, or perhaps even herself, anymore.

She tried to ignore it, but when he wrapped his arm around her, she felt despair rushing in over fondness, fear strangling joy.

She felt caged under that arm, and it was such an unwanted feeling that she could do nothing but battle the tears away.

That was the last time she had seen Fratley before she left for Alexandria to see the play, to be brought together amongst her friends and be reunited with one she thought lost, and she felt in the core of her that she did not want to return.

And so Freya sat at the pub, staring into her pint of ale and trying to understand what was wrong with her.

But she understood nothing.

She was just being silly. She had to be silly.

She would return to Burmecia.

He didn't know why he always ended up back here.

He really hadn't meant to - when the streets of Treno weren't soaked with blood, they were insufferably boring, but he felt oddly drawn to it, as if he were meant to be there.

Like maybe he belonged.

But even that thought was ridiculous. Amarant didn't really belong anywhere. But still, he couldn't deny the fact that Treno was the closest thing he had to a place that was suited just for him.

Just like the creak of the pub door had become a familiar drone in his ears, Treno was just that kind of place he could get lost in.

But for some reason Amarant felt that sometimes he didn't want to be lost.

At first he had thought nothing when someone sat down two seats away from him, and he continued to drink, eavesdropping on a conversation to the other side of him about some kind of fight or plot to rebel against the nobles - wasn't it always the case? - but when he turned his head and caught a flash of crimson in the corner of his sight, something in his chest seized.

He didn't expect he would see her here, yet there she was, ordering the same crappy ale that was sitting in front of him.

And being Amarant, he said the first thing to pop into his head:

"What are you doing here?"

"Good on greetings as always, I see," she grinned, sticking her muzzle in the mug, then coming back out with a sour expression. "And the drinks are just as bitter as I remember, too."

"Don't like it, leave," the bartender groused.

"No, no, it's perfectly acceptable." She took another swig as if to prove it.

Amarant narrowed his eyes - she was avoiding his question. "I thought the other rats needed your help."

"The Burmecians are fine. Great, actually."

"There's a 'but' in there somewhere," he noted perceptively, and she uttered a relenting sigh.

"What can I say? Fratley. . . ." She paused, staring into her mug, and then took another sip. "He still doesn't remember me. And I - it's hard for me to move past that. We shared so much, so much that was important to me."

Amarant tensed, instinctively feeling that the conversation was about to cross into uncomfortable territory.

"And now he doesn't know me at all. Or himself, for that matter, except for that lingering duty he feels. That was the reason he was there, in Burmecia . . . the reason that he came to know me again."

"I remember," Amarant said. "You mentioned him last time. So that's the problem? His memory?"

"No," she objected, her gaze meeting his for just a moment, "it's not that. Not just that, anyway." She went back to staring into her mug. "I thought that I would belong there," she said, slowly. "After everything that happened, I felt I needed to return to my home, to my responsibilities. But I've changed." She sighed. "I don't feel like it's my home anymore."

"You're just being selfish," Amarant argued. "Just because your boyfriend can't remember you, you want to run out on your home and the people that need you?"

That fire had returned to her eyes, and something in Amarant was thrilled to see it there. "And what do you know of selfishness? You've some nerve! How dare you preach to me on what selfishness is as much as you abandoned your comrades when they needed you!" As soon as the words fled her mouth she clamped it shut, more surprised by what she'd said than he was. "I'm sorry," she muttered quickly, turning away.

"No, you're not," he rumbled. "You meant every word." He couldn't see her eyes now; her hair was obscuring them. It didn't look like she wanted to respond. "But I don't care," he continued. "It's not about me right now - you're the one being stupid."

She turned a cold eye on him again. "You don't think I've considered how foolish the thought is? To run away from it all again? But I've lost so much-"

"Rebuild it," he insisted.

She shook her head hopelessly. "I could if I wasn't so alone," she whispered, so quietly that he hardly heard it.

"Pathetic," he remarked, sipping his own ale. "Crying in your mug like a bitch, not a warrior." He felt her bristle beside him, and he relished it. "As if running will get you anywhere. You want happiness? You reach out and take it. Otherwise you're just a waste of everyone's time, fucking around and hoping something good will happen."

"You're right," she breathed, and he was somewhat startled. She was agreeing with him? "You're absolutely right." She turned to him. "That's exactly why I left, Amarant. So tell me, why the hell do you keep returning here to Treno?"

He stifled a bitter laugh. "Not because it's home, if that's what you're trying to whittle out of me. It's easier to get work for someone like me here. Beating the shit out of people is what I do best, after all. Unlike you, I never had a home to begin with, and still don't."

"Why?" she pressed. "Don't you think you could ever settle down? There are plenty of towns that would be happy to have you, you know, especially Alex-"

"You think they'd be happy with me there, honestly? Much less me?" He scoffed. "Sure, I'd fit right in."

"You're the one being stupid now." She huffed a little and shifted in her seat. "You could join the guard or something. Put your talents to good, legal use."

"So I can hang around being their babysitter for the rest of my life? Not likely," he grumbled.

"The point isn't whether or not they need you, but they would want you, at the very least."

"Where do you get off turning this on me?" Amarant turned toward her fully now. "You're the one running away from home, and you're trying to tell me to prance over to Alexandria and become Garnet's pet monkey, as if she needs another."

"No, you're completely missing the point!" she snapped.

"Feel free to enlighten me at any time," he snarled back, just barely refraining from tagging a "bitch" at the end.

She either ignored the threat in his voice or was unfazed by it. "You don't want to settle down, at least not right now. Neither do I!"

They both stared at one another for a long moment before he finally relented, turning back to his drink. "Fine. It doesn't affect me if you want to ditch your shit. But you better not think you can come bitch to me when it blows up in your face."

"Perish the thought," she growled venomously, slamming gil down on the counter and promptly whisking out of the pub.

She was such a complete, utter idiot.

Why would she have thought for one moment that he could possibly relate to her in any way, that he might be able to offer a kind word or understanding-

"-You better not think you can come bitch to me when it blows up in your face."

She wanted to hit him in his smug, stupid face, partially for being smug and stupid, and partially for being right. Because it partially already had. Because she had come there, knowing he would be there, and she wanted to see- see if-

What? a dissenting, angry little voice in her head piped. If you could join him? Be buddies?

He was such an idiot, but she was the bigger one.

Freya sighed into the air, her breath a little puff of frost. It was a cold night again - but it was always night in Treno. These back alley streets weren't safe to wander about at this hour, but Freya had nothing to fear, her lance always clutched in one hand, ready to stave off any would-be thieves. Or assholes, she added irritably.

She would be happy to be rid of this place, she decided, so she leaped up onto the first sturdy roof she spotted and made her way out of town under the blanket of the starless night sky.

Amarant was pissed at her, but even more at himself.

Granted, she could be a dumb bitch, but she was one of the few people he could tolerate, and he was - though he had trouble admitting it to himself - happy to see her again. "Good riddance" had been his initial thought when she stormed out of the pub, but now he was kicking himself and cursing her for being so damn sensitive. He had just been giving her advice. She was the one who was making it difficult.

Fucking women were all so damn complicated, fighter or not. He should have learned that lesson from Lani a long time ago. That bitch could wrestle a bull bare-handed but if you told her her makeup looked like shit, she would cut your head off and never speak to you again - not necessarily in that order.

And, ugh, the shitty ale was not remedying things very much for him.

Amarant finally paid the bartender and walked out, trying to put her and that snooty look of hers out of his mind. People waltzed in and out of his life all the time; there was no need to dwell on her, even if their last exchange had been utter shit. Just more reason to forget about her.

It didn't matter. It couldn't matter.