Disclamation! Dissidia: Final Fantasy © Square Enix.
A/N: Beta'd by the fabulous Uncertain, thanks lovely~ (remember: poker at 10 and no cheating!).
This little monster was actually supposed to be "Red Like Wild Roses," but somehow the idea split into two, thus leaving me with two somewhat similar but still rather different stories. I don't mind though. I am incredibly proud of "Red Like Wild Roses" and I'm super glad that one got finished, because for a while it seemed like this one would never get done. It just kept getting longer and longer and longer…to the point where I thought I'd have to make it multi-chaptered, which did not want to do. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it and please review!
EDIT 8/30/10: Fixed some minor grammatical slip-ups (and one instance where I typed "leg" instead of "length," what the hell?), nothing major, the plot remains exactly the same. Oh, and per multiple requests and suggestions, I'm working on a sequel.
[The Between Space]
I
The Warrior of Light has frequent nightmares. No one else notices aside from me, because no one else awakens as early as I do. I rise with the sun; I wake every morning do the dawn's first sleepy blink; I wake to the first faint strains of color in the sky, the first feather-light touches of the sun's warmth, and the first sighing breath of morning air. And I awaken to the distressed, half-muffled, half-delirious cries of our bold leader. I dare not disturb him, though my mind—and my heart—begs that I relieve him of nighttime's terror, but…I fear that it would embarrass him to have to be shaken from a nightmare, it would make him feel like a child with a bad dream.
So instead, as I lay on my sleeping mat, I alternate between watching the sun's lazy rise and the Warrior of Light's fitful sleep. It usually does not take long for him to awaken on his own. When he does—when his quiet yells subside and his breathing picks up in wakefulness—I close my eyes and pretend to be oblivious and then slowly drag myself from sleep with the others. I'm always the first one the Warrior nudges from sleep and sometimes I wonder if he knows I'm not really sleeping.
"We have much to accomplish today, my comrades," he says, his voice thick with sleep, which he quickly clears from his throat. His clear blue eyes appraise each of us, but they linger longest on me and I duck my head to focus on organizing my backpack to hide the pink tinge I can feel creeping up in my cheeks. Perhaps I have I tiny crush on the Warrior of Light, but I don't doubt there isn't someone who hasn't been attracted to him in some way at some point in his or her life.
We all sit in silence to enjoy our small breakfasts, before we split apart into our usual groups—groups that somehow formed of their own accord—and drift away in different directions. Terra and the Onion Knight are first to wander away; Terra shuffles along with a small frown and worried eyes despite the Onion Knight's valiant effort to console her. Seeing the pair of them makes my smile bittersweet; Onion's just so earnest in his attempts to woo and befriend the young lady, but she remains steadfastly locked within herself. Zidane and Bartz run off soon after, pulling an only slightly willing Squall along with them. Ever since the incident with Kuja and his attempt to trap Zidane, Squall has been making an effort to be a little more sociable.
The only ones left in Order's Sanctuary are Cloud, Tidus, Cecil, the Warrior of Light, and myself. Tidus is always ready to jump into action; Cloud never really needs time to prepare to leave, he'll happily leave a place with no questions asked. Cecil is chatting amiably with the Warrior of Light, who nods and murmurs occasionally between thoughtful bites of food, and I realize that it is me they are waiting for. I have been sitting dumbly with an empty plate in my lap and a half-zipped, contents-spilling backpack for some time now and no one wanted to mention it to me for fear of being rude. I appreciate it, actually, because that means no one noticed me forget myself while staring at our leader. That would have been rather humiliating.
I hasten to organize my backpack and put away my plate and utensil in their proper place; I stand smoothly and sling the pack over my shoulder, smiling at my friends as they glance up at me—my smile for Cecil mingles with the one for the Warrior of Light and I falter for a split second with awkward amicability.
"Shall we then?" asks Cecil, rising fluidly despite his heavy-seeming armor. Tidus bounces up as I expected and Cloud hauls himself to feet with a world-weary sigh—sometimes, I feel like Cloud thinks the entire universe is just one big inconvenience to him.
"Let's go," I agree, putting as much determined enthusiasm in my voice as possible. Cloud shrugs his Buster Sword onto his back and heads off in a random direction; Tidus runs after him and quickly overcomes the spiky blond; Cecil chuckles and jogs to catch up. I feel myself smiling broadly and move to run after them, but then I pause and look back to our leader. He's ambling about, dutifully cleaning up the Sanctuary, his armor clinking together with every step and his cape swishing elegantly about his form.
"Hey, Light," I call and he looks up immediately as he does whenever he is called, "would you like to come with us? You don't have to be alone."
He smiles very slightly and shakes his head. "I will be fine on my own. Go and join your comrades, they need you."
Almost unconsciously, I am willing that tiny smile to grow, to spread across his perfect lips and light up his whole face—I'm almost positive that that smile is capable of brightening a room. No puns intended here. But it doesn't—he doesn't—the smile remains faint and his eyes, if I look hard enough, possess a haunted gleam—the residue of his dreaming?
I consider pressing the matter and insisting that he join me—us; Cloud, Tidus, and Cecil—but the words that come out instead are not what I intended.
"You should smile more; I bet your smile would be beautiful if you did."
At his bemused expression, my cheeks burn up and I know my face has turned beat red. I need to get out fast so I mumble a farewell, turn on my feel, and run after my friends as fast as I can. I do not dare to look back and see what expression has fallen on the Warrior's face.
Tidus grins like a fool when he sees my face; he grins like he knows something.
"Have a nice chat with the Warrior of Luster?"
Cecil and I sputter at the same time; Cloud just raises an eyebrow at the boy.
"Warrior of what?" demands Cecil, sounding amused in spite of himself and recovering first while I continue to gape like a fish out of water.
"Y'know, like a rock that shines has luster," explains Tidus, obviously quite proud of his pun. "And he's the Warrior of Light and an object's luster refers to how much it reflects light. Not to mention it has the word 'lust' in it, which is totally what Rosebud's feeling for our fearless leader."
There is this silence in which Cloud, Cecil, and Tidus all stop and stare at me and watch in wonderment as my face turns redder than my wild rose. While Tidus appears supremely proud of himself for solving the Puzzle of Firion's Emotions, Cecil seems thoughtful, as if he's actually considering this ludicrous suggestion that Tidus put forth as a jest, simple means to provoke harmless mirth…a joke. And then, to my horror, he nods and signals for us to carry on and I am rooted to the ground by a shallow kind of horror.
Then Cloud shrugs and monotones, "Knew it."
"Knew what?" I splutter indignantly. "There's nothing to know!"
"Denial," says Tidus in a singsong voice, "is the first step to admission."
"But there's nothing to admit," I protest, but my side of the argument is weak—not that I had much of one to begin with, I had already admitted to myself earlier that I am the tiniest bit attracted to the Warrior of Light.
"Of course not, Rosebud." Tidus rolls his eyes, grinning brightly, and jogs after Cecil and Cloud. I sigh heavily in defeat and follow.
We successfully remove a Stigma of Chaos from Planet's Core and are about to return to the Sanctuary when Cloud stops abruptly. He gains a haunted gleam in his eyes and looks wildly about the fragment of world; his panic raises the hair on the back of my neck.
"What is it?" I ask; the tension of the moment keeps my voice low.
"Sephiroth," growls the spiky blond and we all spin around to the direction Cloud is glaring in. True to his word, a man stands there outfitted in black leather with impossibly long silver hair. His eyes glow unnaturally like Cloud's do—perhaps this is commonplace in their home world—but instead of cerulean, his are green and cat-like and wrought with Chaos's malicious intent.
"What do you want?" Cloud demands rudely.
"Nothing at all," the warrior of Chaos says, almost casually. "Just checking up on Cosmos's precious do-gooders."
"Liar," accuses Tidus and I am inclined to agree, his explanation is too harmless.
Sephiroth's cat eyes appraise Tidus's defensive stance and drawn weapon and he smirks like this is one of the more amusing things he's seen in his life. He nearly sneers as he speaks next, "Son of Jecht, you are much scrawnier than he makes you out to be."
"I don't give a damn what my old man says about me," snarls Tidus. "Are you going to fight us or just talk shit?"
Something horribly like a smile crawls onto Sephiroth's face and an impossibly long katana gleams into existence, settling comfortably in the gloved palm of his hand.
"If you insist."
Cloud lunges first.
The tip of the Buster Sword drags across the ground with sparks leaping wildly from the point of contact, and every step further coils the muscles in Cloud's legs. With a grunt, Cloud swings the Buster Sword around in a wide arc and brings it down on Sephiroth's head—the silver-haired villain barely moves, but somehow Masamune is there to deflect the brutal attack.
Tidus cartwheels past me, building up energy with every flip, and attempts to slash Sephiroth across the chest. As usual, Tidus's attack results in a brilliant flare of reddish-orange light, but when the light fades, Sephiroth is still standing unscathed. Tidus leaps for a second attack, but this too is also dodged and as Tidus stumbles, Sephiroth drives Masamune's hilt into his back. Tidus reels and falls and tumbles out of the way.
Cecil balances his spear, wisps of darkness congealing around its head, and darts forward with all intent to skewer the silver-head through the middle. While the blow is successfully landed, Sephiroth snaps his katana outward and catches Cecil's midsection. His dark armor absorbs a moderate amount of the damage, but nevertheless Cecil is knocked back and nearly over the edge of the platform we are fighting on.
Cloud ducks in with another devastating blow and, again, Sephiroth parries and counterattacks in the span of a blink. But Cloud's reflexes are just as quick. A series of arcing swings and boiling fire spells are met with the lithe blade of Masamune every time, easily deflecting and defusing everything sent towards its wielder.
I raise my bow and prepare to shower Sephiroth with arrows… And then I feel something…strange. Unsettling. The Crystal that rests beside my heart—my Crystal—shudders, a connection has been…lost? All of our Crystals are connected, each of the Cosmos Warriors can tell through this connection when a comrade is in danger, trouble is that it's near impossible to say which connection had been severed. This shudder could be anyone.
The bow wavers in my hand and Cloud launches his Omnislash attack.
I look to Tidus—bringing himself feebly to his feet—and Cecil—hauling himself away from the ledge of the platform—and their faces are drawn grimly. They have felt it, too.
The attack ends and Sephiroth and Cloud touch down on solid ground—Cloud lands heavily while Sephiroth drifts down like an angel. His lips curl into that terrible smile.
"This has been a good exercise," he croons, "but I have more important matters to attend to."
Before we can stop him, the warrior of Chaos dissipates in a flash of blinding light. There is a moment of silence and then Cecil speaks up.
"We must find the others."
The World of Darkness reveals Squall, Zidane, and Bartz, all looking a little worse for wear. Squall is rooting through his backpack for potions when we arrive and the three of them all look up with sharp suspicion. They relax when they recognize us. Zidane is bleeding from a small gash on his forehead and I imagine he has various other bruises judging by the impact marks decorating his clothing. Bartz is sprawled on his back, chest heaving, and his left eye is swollen shut. Squall has bandages around both hands and red is slowly seeping through the clean white. They're an utter mess.
I rush forward, backpack unzipped and a potion at the ready before my knees hit the ground in front of Squall.
"Here," I say, "Allow me to assist you."
Squall nods, too exhausted to resist as usual, and mutters past his dry throat, "Thanks."
He downs the potion gratefully and sighs as the healing magic take effect. Then he unravels his hands and tosses away the now useless scraps of cloth; he continues rummaging through his pack and produces a hi-potion, which he passes to Zidane. Cecil casts Cure over Bartz and once the three of them are sitting up and looking greatly improved, Cloud begins the interrogation.
"What happened?"
"We got ambushed by a tree," groans Bartz, tenderly touching his eye to feel as the swelling fades away.
"He means Exdeath," Squall clarifies upon seeing our skeptical and concerned-for-Bartz's-mental-stability faces.
"Okay, you'll have to explain that one to me another time," says Tidus lightly, smiling and trying to relieve the gloomy atmosphere.
"Sure thing." Bartz waves a hand at Tidus. "But yeah, we got ambushed…"
"It was weird, though," says Zidane. "It seemed like Exdeath was just trying to distract us. Partway through the fight…I'm not entirely sure, but I thought I felt my Crystal…stutter."
"I felt that, too," agrees Cecil. "I fear something may have happened to one of our friends."
"Then we should find the rest of them," says Squall. "If you're right, then Exdeath really was just keeping us distracted so that another warrior of Chaos could single out one of our comrades."
"Those jerks," grumbles Zidane.
I snort, a dry, humorless laugh, "Well put, my friend."
"Let's go," says Cloud. "We should find Terra and the Onion Knight."
"And the Warrior of Light," I add immediately and Tidus sniggers and winks at me.
"Right"—oh gods, he's going to comment on that—"we especially need to find Rosebud's boyfriend."
Cecil and Cloud fully expected this jest and therefore do not react, but Zidane, Squall, and Bartz have never been exposed to this little gag of Tidus's and they stop to stare at me incredulously.
I contemplate stabbing Tidus.
It feels as though we have been wandering the fragments of worlds for a hundred years and have yet to encounter the familiar face of a comrade, enemy, or even a manikin. This utter absence of life sets me on edge and eventually even the ever-giddy Bartz is telling me to stop fidgeting. Tidus just grins at me and winks such a way that says, 'you know why you're so worked up and I know why you're so worked up, now what will you do about it?'
I can only theorize what type of response the boy is trying to goad out of me and I am determined not to give it to him. I refuse to allow him the satisfaction of knowing he's gotten to me, of knowing that he was right and that I really do have a crush on—
Oh goddamn.
I unconsciously pause in my step; why am I so vehemently denying my own feelings to myself? What does it matter if I covet secret feelings for the Warrior of Light, so long as I do not speak aloud and risk utter embarrassment? If I really want to, I can very well stroll around with whatever fantasy suits me playing in my head and no one will ever know—not that I would actually do that, that would be rude. So I allow myself a small smile at my revelation; I will admit it to myself, wholly and completely, but not aloud to Tidus. The boy does not need any sort of ego-booster right now.
Of course, once Tidus sees me smile he returns it with that all-knowing grin and the urge to stab him seizes me again.
"Are you expecting something of me, Tidus?" I ask, allowing a small smirk to touch on my face.
"Nothing, Rosebud," he singsongs, "nothing at all."
And then, to my horror, Zidane contributes to the conversation, "Y'know, Tidus, Light might suspect something if you go around calling Firion 'Rosebud' like that, he might get jealous."
I groan and bring my hands up to cover my face; will the torment never end?
"Right you are, Zidane!" chirps Tidus. "We don't want that now, do we, Firion?"
Cecil claps a hand to my shoulder and beams at me beatifically. "Don't fret over it, Firion, they're just teasing you because they have nothing better to do with their time." He leans a little closer and whispers conspiratorially. "I suspect they are the jealous ones. Light pays the closest attention to you and, even though they do not desire his attention in the same way, it is an honor to know that one's leader thinks you special enough to watch over personally."
Cecil pulls away, grins, and then strides ahead. I jog to catch up, feeling that I should have some kind of response to this discovery, but I find that my mind is utterly blank. Wiped clean by Cecil's simple observation of our comrades. It astounds me how such a simple thing can render me speechless. So I walk, side-by-side with Cecil, and eventually we find ourselves entering the Crystal World.
Normally this would be nothing notable, "old hat" as the expression goes, but not today. Today has been far from normal, so none of us should be as surprised as we are right now. Though I suppose finding two fallen comrades is not something one can simply get used to, especially when those two are the smallest of the team.
"Terra." Cloud lurches forward and drops to his knees beside the girl's prone body, he rolls her carefully onto her back and casts a weak Cure over her. When unconscious, it is difficult to say what kind of healing a person needs; you don't want to use a strong Cure on someone with cracked or broken ribs, because then the bones might not heal the way they should.
Cecil sinks onto his knees next to the Onion Knight and takes the boy's face his hands, attempting to awaken him manually instead of magically. The Onion Knight lets out a small whimper, a noise that sounds very much like Terra's name, and his face scrunches together as he drags himself through the process of waking up. He flinches when his lids part and the first thing he sees is a pale face obscured by long silver hair, but then recognition floods his orbs and he goes limp with relief.
"C-Cecil," he wheezes, "I thought…for a moment…you… you were…"
The Onion Knight shakes his head slightly, too exhausted to speak, and Cecil does not rush him.
I look over to the others. Squall is hovering by Cloud while Tidus, Zidane, and Bartz scavenge the area for clues as to what transpired. I turn my focus back to the Onion Knight and Cecil, confident that all other tasks are being properly taken care and that Terra is being seen to. I crouch opposite of Cecil, but keep my distant as to not crowd the poor boy.
"Where are you injured?" asks Cecil, his voice cool and collected just as it needs to be in this situation. "Is anything broken, do you think?"
"Nn…" the Onion Knight mumbles, shaking his head slightly, "Jus'…tired. K'ja's hard to pin…y'know?"
I glance over at Zidane; he is scowling at the peculiar black burn marks that streak the arena floor. He knows exactly what—who—caused them.
Cecil casts a mild Cure and the Onion Knight sighs as the healing effect washes over him; he seems a little more alert now, but not enough to sit up without Cecil supporting him.
"Thanks," he mumbles, bringing a hand to press his palm to his forehead, no doubt feeling the beginnings of a headache. Then he goes rigid, "Is Terra…okay…?"
Cecil and I look to Cloud for an answer; the blond man meets our stares and nods infinitesimally—Terra is still unconscious, but now it seems more like a peaceful slumber than forced unconsciousness.
"She'll be all right," I assure the boy and he blinks at me owlishly as if seeing me for the first time.
"…Firion?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Oh," he says, his voice is very small and faint. "Okay."
The Onion Knight falls limp and Cecil hastily catches him before he slumps to the cold ground once more. Cecil lets out a slow breath.
"He will need to rest, they both will," he reports, sounding rather reluctant. "We will have to remain here until they awaken and are fit to continue." His eyes meet with mine and hold onto them, trapping me with the sudden intensity of his stare, "I am sorry, Firion, we cannot continue our search for the Warrior of Light today."
Darkness sinks around us like a woolen blanket.
Terra and the Onion Knight are both missing their backpacks, forcing us to share blankets and use spare clothing to provide extra layers for warmth. Terra and the Onion Knight are both settled beneath my and Zidane's quilts, resting and healing peacefully. Squall is seated atop one of the crystal pillars, staring out into marbled sky and lost within his thoughts. At the foot of the pillar, Zidane and Bartz—the closest friends of us all—elected to "put up with each other" and share a blanket. Tidus is sprawled a few paces away, the chaotic midpoint between Zidane and Cloud. Cloud lies on his back, a spare shirt bundled beneath his head like a pillow, with his eyes closed and his blanket spread over Terra—he pretends to sleep, but no one is fooled.
I sit with my feet over the edge of the crystal platform, one leg drawn up, the heel of my boot hooked securely on the ledge, and supporting my resting chin. My hands are linked near my raised ankle, twirling between my fingers is my wild rose: thorn-less, pure, and beautiful. A sigh escapes me before I am consciously aware of the necessity of one.
Cecil settles gracefully beside me, dangling his legs and crossing his ankles; he is a good arm's length away, not too far and not too close. He contents himself with pulling the purple beads from his long, silvery hair as he does every night before going to sleep. It seems like more trouble than it is worth, but Cecil is very fond of those beads and, now that he has come to embrace his Paladin form, fusses with then constantly if only to give his hands something to do. Cecil also seems content to be silent and wait for me to speak first; I wonder what I ever did to be so lucky as to come upon a friend like Cecil.
The rose glitters and winks, enigmatic, it knows something that I do not. I tell myself that if I stare at it long enough, it will eventually take pity and tell me of all its beautiful secrets. And then I remind myself that is only a rose. A rose as red as the sunsets I watch every morning while Light tosses and turns fitfully in his sleep.
"Y'know, red roses symbolize love," says Tidus's voice mischievously in my head and I wonder when the hell Tidus's became the voice of my conscience. So I mentally tell the boy to stuff it—in more polite terms, of course—and tuck the wild rose safely out of sight.
"I wish I could remember my life before…" I wave my hand vaguely at our surroundings, knowing Cecil will understand what I mean.
"Hm?" he glances at me briefly before collecting his beads in his palm and tucking them safely away into a pouch on his belt.
"So I have something else to think about, instead of…" I trail off, this time because I do not want to finish the sentence and, even so, I know Cecil will understand what I mean.
He chuckles and smiles knowingly at me. "You need a distraction."
"Very much."
"Hm, well, I can only offer you conversation, hopefully it'll suffice."
Cecil and I sit there on the edge and talk deep into the night, flitting through topics and never really landing on one, but it is a pleasant distraction all the same. When sleep begins to tug at our bodies, we shift away from the edge and lay back on top of Cecil's blanket. I fall asleep to Cecil's deep murmur and the quiet breaths of our sleeping companions.
I awaken to the sounds of movement and the lowered voices of people who do not know how to lower their voices, namely Zidane and Bartz adding a raspy edge to their boisterous words and thinking they are whispering. I recognize the tone of Cecil's voice, but Cecil knows how to temper his speech and the words are incomprehensible—if not for our two troublemakers, I probably would have slept through the noise.
Not really wanting to get up, I roll over and notice that someone has thrown a blanket over me. I pull the blanket closer around me and over my head, making myself as comfortable as possible on the hard crystal platform.
"See now," hisses Tidus, only slightly better at whispering than Zidane and Bartz, "you woke him up. Do you guys even know how to whisper?"
I poke my head out from under the blanket and glare softly at the boy. "Do you, Tidus? You're not much better than they are."
Tidus grins sheepishly and scuffs his toe against the ground. "Morning, Rose— Firion."
I grumble and return to hiding under the blanket. It's too early.
"Come on, Firion," says Cloud's muffled voice; the toe of a boot gently nudges my side. "We convinced Squall to make food, it's good."
"The best I've had in ages," coos a soft, distinctly feminine voice with earnest. I sit up, needing to see Terra with my own eyes—she's awake and looks much healthier; relief washes over me.
"It's good to see you awake and well," I tell her and the girl smiles happily.
"It's good to see you awake," says Cecil, laughing, "I can finally take my blanket back. I didn't think you would ever get up."
We eat Squall's surprisingly delicious breakfast together in silence and put our backpack's together quickly. Then, we set out to continue our search for the Warrior of Light. I hang to the back of the group to walk with Cecil, Terra, and the Onion Knight; the two youngest are taking the journey slow so as to not exhaust themselves.
We decide to return to Order's Sanctuary, because it is the most likely place to find the Warrior of Light. A knot tightens in my stomach—gods, why does he always have to go off on his own? He can be such a damned hypocrite; he always tells us to never run off by ourselves, to always stay in groups of two or more, and yet he insists on being alone! He makes himself so vulnerable to the villains; he makes himself the easiest target of all! But…Light is strong, he can take care of himself, he can handle any and every manikin thrown his way. The villains themselves are a challenge—Sephiroth has proven himself to be capable of fighting four at once and come out unscathed—so what if the villains send Sephiroth after the Warrior of Light? They would not do that; if they were to send anyone to intercept Light, it would be Garland. Light has fought him before, he can defeat Garland…but if they team up? The villains know the Warrior of Light is our elected leader—under Cosmos, of course—so they would not want any possibility of him surviving and beating one of their own…
I kick a loose rock out of frustration and it skitters noisily ahead.
"Well, well, well," sneers a raspy, unpleasant baritone; it is gruff and coarse, as if the speaker has inhaled too much cigarette smoke and treated himself to too many drinks in his lifetime. "Lookit what we have here. The cry-baby and his bratty little friends."
A large hand clamps around the back of my neck before I can react and the strong, painful grip lifts my feet from the ground. I gasp and hiss and kick my legs and attempt to pry the hand away from my neck, but to no avail. Jecht only laughs as he swings me around to look at my face—the smell of his breath matches the sound of his voice.
"Aw, look, here's the one he calls 'Rosebud.' Ain't that cute?"
Golbez and Kuja hover at his shoulders; Golbez is unreadable as always, but Kuja looks as though he would rather be in a million other places than in Jecht and Golbez's company right now. He looks as though he was forced to go along with whatever charade the warriors of Chaos have planned, which would make sense because I cannot recall these three every being even the tiniest bit decent to each other. Then again, what would I know of the inner workings of Chaos's finest? For all I know, these three could be best friends, however unlikely it seems.
My companions shift into battle formation, shuffling Terra and the Onion Knight to the back to further protect them. Tidus is standing at the forefront of the lineup, weapon drawn and dropped into an offensive crouch, ready to attack his father with all his might. Cecil's eyes are glued to his brother, hands tightening compulsively around his staff, and his mouth drawn into a severe, unreadable line. Zidane stares with open hatred at his effeminate older sibling; he twirls his daggers in his palms, ready to hurl them at Kuja. Bartz stands between Cecil and Zidane, rocking back and forth on his heels; he seems innocent enough, but I know he has a blade itching at his fingertips; he only has to will it to appear. Squall and Cloud stand like sentries in front of Terra and the Onion Knight, both appearing equally unaffected. Squall has his massive gunblade slung casually over his shoulder, one finger loosely held over the trigger, and Cloud has both hands gripping the handle of his Buster Sword, the razor edge resting on the ground, ready for use.
I reach for the dagger at my hip and prepare to cut into a hand I cannot properly see. But Jecht pinches tighter and shakes me, scolding me as if I were a child.
"No, no, don't you even think about it," he sneers, his eyes lock with Tidus's as he adds horribly, "'Rosebud.'"
The hilt of the dagger is snug within my palm; one quick strike far enough behind me and I should hit Jecht's forearm, or at least come close enough to startle him into letting go. I meet Tidus's gaze, his eyes are a mess of hatred and apology and confusion, and I make my move.
A cold, pearly hand locks around my wrist and manicured fingernails painted blood red bite painfully into my skin. Kuja clicks his tongue and flicks his own wrist, twisting mine and forcing the danger from my grasp. A shock of pain shoots up my arm, more than should have resulted from a twisted wrist and it is obvious that Kuja has enhanced his touch with black magic. For a moment all my mind can comprehend is the fire flooding the veins up my arm; I curl my arm to my chest and struggle harder against Jecht's grip. He only laughs, my efforts have no effect on him whatsoever, and my wrist feels like it will detach from my arm.
"Firion…!"
I am not sure who it is that shouted my name—it might have been Cecil—because the blackness that licks the fringes of my vision makes it hard to differentiate between faces and I can only hear the rushing of blood filling my ears. As if sensing that I am close to blacking out, Jecht tosses me carelessly aside; I hit the ground hard, jarring my shoulder and I hear the terrible crunch of wood splintering—my bow!—and the ground disappears. I fling my arms out desperately and manage to catch onto a ledge. The rushing of blood pulses in time with my wild heartbeat and I kick my feet out in search of leverage, but the face of the crystal platform is flawless.
I attempt to blink away the blackness, but it keeps flooding back. My breath wheezes through my lungs, my wrist is throbbing, and the splinters of my bow, still dangling from my armor by its drawstring, jab into my back whenever I move.
"Goddamnit." I grit my teeth as I scrabble for anything to hold onto, anything to help pull me from the edge. I hear the sounds of fighting—Jecht shouts jeers and insults to his son; Kuja's joyous laughter echoes insanely and frequent flashes of fire accompany every cackle; Golbez only shouts every now and then, mostly to Cecil. I hear voices of my friends returning with their own taunts and spells—they are thoroughly distracted.
A pale, frightened face appears above me, haloed by flyaway blonde hair, and wide sky blue eyes search out mine. Terra. She grasps my right hand and pulls, trying valiantly to pull me up; she glances behind her frequently, checking the flow of the battle. I manage to get an elbow above the edge and gain enough leverage to hoist myself up; Terra flutters over me, helping me up.
I sway on my feet, still too close to the edge, and the blackness invades my vision again, full-force, now that I do not have something to distract me. Terra grips my arm and yanks the ruined bow from my back; she doesn't speak, but she does not need to—the poor girl is terrified and worried sick. I notice the Onion Knight standing nearby, deflecting spells that fly in our direction either accidentally or intentionally. He looks back at us and musters up a confident grin that is almost believable.
"T-Terra…?" I stutter, feeling incredibly light-headed all of the sudden.
She looks up at me owlishly, "Yes?"
"I'm…going to fall…"
And fall, I did. The last image in my head is of Terra reaching after me, teetering on her knees on the edge of the platform with the Onion Knight beside her, before the murky darkness beneath the platform swallows me up.
I land flat on my back and all air is forced from my lungs; I struggle for breath. Cool gloved hands gently curl beneath me and lift me carefully into a sitting position, suddenly I am leaning against a frozen, metal-plated chest and those gloved hands are lifting my arms over my head. Sweet air and relief floods my lungs, I drink it in hungrily. I sit there, leaning against some unknown person and simply breathe for countless moments until the desperation leaves my body and I feel myself slowly relax.
"Better?"
"Yes," I gasp and he lets go of my arms.
We sit together for a moment longer until the familiarity of the voice registers in my mind and I scramble away, my face heating with embarrassment.
"L-Light! We've been searching for you."
The Warrior of Light looks at me curiously, but then decides not to remark on my odd reaction to his presence. Instead he simply casts his gaze about the space and I follow his example: we are sitting in an immeasurable abyss, surrounded on all sides by murky darkness that is both confining and vastly empty.
"Where are we…?"
Light considers this for a long while as if he himself has just begun to wonder the same thing. And then he says with some hesitation, "This…is the Between Space. We come here often when we travel from one fragment of world to the next, but never linger."
"All right… How…how did we end up here?" I look down at the ground I am sitting on; only there is no actual ground, just more swirling blackness. It is unnerving. I look over at the Warrior of Light; he is sitting cross-legged and calm, appraising the darkness with mild interest.
"I am not sure, this entire place and situation is anomalous."
I sigh quietly, but the sound echoes impossibly; I mirror Light's position and face him like a reflection, still maintaining the polite distance between us. I prop my elbows on my knees and rest my cheeks against my knuckles, staring emptily at the "ground."
"Well," I say slowly, chewing out my thoughts to produce the desired words, "I suppose we should find some way to return to our friends."
We both cast our gaze around the Between Space once more and I notice that he seems rather despondent, as if he's tried and failed to escape many times before I arrived. I scoot a little bit closer to him and catch his attention.
"Light…how long have you been in here?"
For one un-Warrior-like instant, he cannot seem to meet my stare. "Since I turned down your offer to join your party."
The gravity of this statement punches a hole through my heart. He has been here longer than we had been searching for him.
"Theoretically," the Warrior of Light says, "we should be able to will ourselves out of this place in the same fashion that we are able to will ourselves from one fragment world to the next."
He stands staring into the black abyss with stony blue eyes wrought with half-felt determination. It is impossible to say how long we have been in the Between Space—for Light is simply "since I turned you down" and for me it is "since I fell off the edge of the crystal platform." But no matter how long it has been, the passing hours have dragged by in a painful monotony; we wander the darkness, we stop to rest, and then we wander the darkness again.
The Warrior of Light still sleeps fitfully. I am still interrupted from our periods of rest by his tossing and frantic muttering and I still cannot find it in me to awaken him. I still pretend to sleep when his dreaming comes to a close. I suppose that makes me an awful person, but I cannot shake the untouchable aura my mind has built around him—I cannot break it.
"We've tried that," I remind him carefully. "Many times."
"Yes, I know," he murmurs, "but…"
He doesn't finish the sentence; it has been so long since he finished that sentence I have forgotten what he intended to say.
I stand slowly, missing the weight of my bow on my back, and begin to walk arbitrarily; Light does not follow immediately, but he catches up soon enough. We walk in silence, there is not much to say, and I pretend that the hammering in my heart is just my imagination, just the maddening darkness playing tricks on me. It almost works.
Then something occurs to me.
I stop abruptly and Light stops as well. He looks at me, confused.
"What if…" I say, tasting the words before speaking them aloud, "What if this wasn't a fluke?"
He catches on immediately. "You mean to say that the villains discovered a way to halt the transition from one fragment world to next, thus trapping anyone they pleased in this Between Space?"
"Yes, it's possible. They have more magic-users than we do and powerful ones at that. If those powers are combined, there is no telling what they could achieve."
"Hm," Light responds, his pale face troubled. "If so, then the only way out, is the way we got in."
"Somehow, I doubt the villains will simply release us."
Light is almost amused by my somber sarcasm, but the mood is too desolate for smiles. Instead, he places his gloved hands on either side of his head and carefully removes his helm; even in this saturnine atmosphere, his hair has this perfect silvery-blue glow and I cannot help but feel a tinge of jealousy. My hair is grey and rather dull in comparison, however this is hardly the time to be halted by petty envy over hair, of all things.
"I suppose," says the Warrior of Light, settling down gracefully and placing his helm beside him, "we might as well rest and wait to see what happens next." He catches my gaze and smiles a little wider than I have ever seen him smile before—it is a beautiful smile. "And perhaps we can get to know each other a little better."
II
The Warrior of Light sleeps a little less fitfully now. I think it because he now has somebody irremovably at his side. I mean this in a figurative sense rather than literal, because while, yes, I am currently is sole companion, I'm only that. I am his friend. Nevertheless, his dreams have quieted since he has, at long last, opened up to me. It feels like centuries since Light proposed that we sit and talk and wait for Fate to shuffle us back into the deck. All those centuries ago I gathered my courage and asked him why he couldn't sleep at night. This did not surprise him; apparently, I am not as good at feigning sleep as I thought.
He told me he dreams of circles. Of cycles. Of never-ending loops with no chance of breaking free.
He told me he dreams of watching his comrades fall and of being helpless to save them. He told me he sometimes dreams of being the first in cycle and having to endure the heartbroken faces of our friends, who are powerless of saving him.
He told me he dreams of fading away and then waking up again at the start of the cycle.
The dreams—the nightmares—do not infect his sleep as strongly anymore. I think it was a relief to him to finally share these nightly visions with someone. Light sleeps in relative peace now, but his anxiety has been passed.
I sit with my knees hugged to my chest, unable to close my eyes, while he slumbers a few feet away. Every time I allow my eyes to slide shut I am assaulted with parodies of what Light may have seen in his dreams. Mostly, I am presented with the image of my wild rose wilting in my palm while a chasm opens up in my chest and this terrible sense of knowing that all has gone wrong.
To reassure myself, I draw forth my rose and stare at it for a long while. It is still in perfect condition, still a vibrant crimson and soft to the touch.
A few paces away, Light sits up abruptly. His forehead glistens with sweat and his eyes are wide and searching. They find my worried stare and he relaxes immediately. The question that forms in my head catches in my throat, rendering me mute, but I get the sense that Light will give me the answer without my prompting. He rakes a hand through his hair, tousling those lovely silvery-blue locks, and he takes a moment to simply breathe. And then, as I'd hoped, he speaks.
"Near the beginning of the conflict," he says softly, his voice carrying easily in the keening silence of the Between Space, "I made a promise to Cecil."
My heart seizes needlessly. I am confident that if some form of bond had been formed between Light and Cecil, I would have been informed. Cecil is my strongest friend and my greatest supporter; he would not encourage my feelings for Light if he already possessed the warrior's affection. So I wait patiently and ignore the foolish voice of betrayal in the back of my mind.
"I had come across Cecil and Tidus in Dream's End," Light continues, his eyes mist over as the incident replays in his mind, "and they were frantic. You had gone into enemy territory to retrieve something that had been stolen and they had not heard from you for hours."
I remember the incident Light is speaking of, if only in bits and pieces. It feels like it happened centuries ago as much bigger things have taken place since then.
"I offered to find you, because Cecil was exhausted and Tidus was preparing to begin his pursuit of his father. Before I set off in search of you, Cecil made me promise that I bring you back and keep you safe."
He pauses, his brow furrowing in an unreadable expression.
"You found me," I say quietly, continuing the story we both know, "fighting Sephiroth." I laugh humorlessly, "All because he stole my wild rose."
The corners of Light's lips curve upward into a wry smile. "You were clearly tiring and he seemed barely affected, but still you refused to give up the fight."
"Part of me was too proud to back down and let someone else fight my battles," I admit sheepishly.
"Are you aware of how much our comrades admire you, Firion?" he asks suddenly, his tone a tiny bit lighter and mildly curious.
"What do you mean?"
Light smiles a little more. "Cloud told Terra about your dream of wild roses and they have made it their own as well. In kind, the Onion Knight was informed and he is very enthusiastic about it. Even Cosmos admires you. She finds your dream the most beautiful and most humble dream she has ever been told of."
"I didn't realize everyone was so fond of roses," I say, knowing that this is not the point Light is trying to make, but I'm not sure what else to say.
"Perhaps not the roses," murmurs Light, finally lifting his eyes to look at me, "but the one who carries it. They are fond of you, Firion."
I don't understand what I have done to earn their admiration, their fondness, I have done nothing more than they have. I am about to voice this much to Light, but he speaks up before I can open my mouth.
"Sometimes," he says, his tone edged with pain, "I dream of what may have happened if I arrived a few moments too late to intervene with your fight against Sephiroth. I have no doubt that he would've done his best to destroy you…"
He scrapes his hand through his hair again and sighs heavily. I can hear the thickness in his throat and my heart thunders against my ribs.
"I'm all right, Light," I whisper. "I'm all right. You saved me that day. I would've gone on fighting him and I would've been defeated. You saved me." I smile a little bit, "Thank you for that."
He meets my soft gaze and then, to my surprise, matches it. "You are very welcome."
We sit in silence, both of us mulling over the abruptly ended conversation and the entirety of its content. Somehow, I feel as though more was revealed than was directly spoken and though a part of me is thrilled at the idea that Light reciprocates my feelings, another part of me—the small part that is so frank it toes the line of pessimism—insists that it is simply my foolish desires reading a subscript that does not exist. I squash that niggling sense of doubt in favor of enjoying these private moments with Light, however platonic that may be.
"I think you worry too much," I tell him, smiling faintly in his direction.
He quirks one perfect, silver eyebrow, "Do I?"
"Yes. We are Cosmos's chosen warriors because we are the strongest; we are as powerful together as we are individually. And since we naturally travel in groups, we are all nearly indomitable. You've no need to worry about our safety." I hesitate for a second and then add with quiet determination, "If anything, we worry about you. You always travel on your own and I wish that you wouldn't."
"Then I will make an effort to be more social and travel with you, if the offer still stands," he says, surprising me with the sincerity in his voice and the tinge of apprehension in his pale blue eyes.
I nod, a little bit breathlessly, "Yes, of course."
"Very well," he says, sounding the tiniest bit relieved. "Now we simply need to escape this place."
Neither of us moves. We've already established that there is nothing we can do except wait for something to happen—if anything happens. It has come down to a question of how long the wait will be, or at least, how long it will seem to be. Already the minutes are creeping by like hours and I cannot even be sure if they're minutes at all. Perhaps only seconds are passing or maybe even so much as days. It is impossible to tell. This fluctuation of time is maddening and I wish with all my heart for it to stop. I hate the feeling of being helpless, of not being able to even help myself. And I can tell by the way Light grimaces and shifts impatiently in his seat that he hates this just as much, if not more, than I do.
The only good thing coming of this situation is that Light and I are closer than we were before. In the flux of time, we have somehow, through unconscious action, ended up sitting closely side-by-side. I accidentally nudge his arm with my elbow while telling him of the bits and pieces I remember of my life before this war. Light is not so animated when he speaks, but nonetheless he never shifts to give me elbowroom and I never ask him to. I find myself, despite the present situation, entirely content.
Somehow, and I am not entirely sure how, I end up sitting impossibly closer to the Warrior of Light and when I turn my head to glance at him in the midst of a story, I am surprised to come nearly nose-to-nose with him. His face is almost annoyingly impassive, as always, but he doesn't move away or even turn his head. He just sits there staring at me through unreadable blue eyes and it's almost as if he's daring me to do something.
Light tips his head just so and I am ninety percent sure he's done it on purpose. The challenge has been doubled and I am not one to back down. So I lean forward. And for one incredible moment, the Warrior of Light is kissing me in return, and I feel as though my heart is going to explode with sheer happiness.
Naturally, this is when Fate decides to throw us a curveball.
"ANIMALS!" the enraged scream echoes hauntingly throughout the Between Space and Light and I fall apart gracelessly in our surprise. "Wretches! Whores of darkness!" The stream of profanities continues to echo louder and louder, becoming more and more cruel and inventive as the source drew near. Light and I rise warily to our feet; his sword and shield glimmer into existence while I draw my red steel blade from its sheath on my hip. I don't know what we are expecting, but when the unmistakable shape of Kuja materializes from the abyss, I know that he is definitely not it. He stops short when he sees us and that 'greater than thou' smirk appears on his pretty face.
"Firion," he coos, as if I am some long-absent friend, "I see you've found your Light. How sweet."
I press my lips into a firm line and do not grace his taunt with a response. Kuja just rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically.
"Oh, puts those brutish things away, I'm not going attack," he sneers. "I don't like being stuck in here anymore than you."
Light is the first to comply; he steadily lowers his extended arm until the tip of his sword is resting on the marbled darkness beneath our feet and his shield arm relaxes visibly. He glances at me expectantly and I realize that this is my cue to lower my weapon; I hesitate for only a second before relenting.
Kuja's smirk widens. "How's the arm, Rosebud?"
"Fine," I say tartly.
Light intervenes before Kuja gets the idea to further the tense banter; he even goes so far as to shift slightly in front of me like a physical barrier. "Why have you been sentenced to this place, Kuja?"
The petite, silver mage snaps his pale eyes to meet Light's and his lip curls, but not because of anything Light has said. "Those cretins decided that it would do me, the most inexperienced on our side, good to learn what a 'true betrayal' feels like." Kuja snorts derisively. "This is not the first time I've been betrayed, or else I would not be a villain at all. But as far as they are concerned, I am merely an over-plumed songbird who likes the sound of his own voice far too much."
He huffs and crosses his arms, looking for all the worlds like a defiant child, and sticks his nose haughtily in the air.
"Perhaps," Light says carefully, his sword and shield dissolving completely to show his sincerity, "you ought to show them how useful and how strong you are…"
"Do you really think I am that stupid? I will not fall for your infantile attempts to coerce me into freeing you!" snarls Kuja, his hands drop into tight fists by his sides and from beneath his skirt a long silvery tail lashes lethally back and forth. I realize with a small jolt that Zidane was not joking when he said that Kuja was his brother. As easy as it is to believe that Cecil and Golbez are brothers, they have the advantage of personality similarities. But Zidane is the polar opposite of Kuja in both appearance and attitude, neither possessing one like quality. Now I find the blond's claim very believable—though who am I to assume that tails are not a common trait where Zidane comes from?
There is a pregnant pause, and then Kuja's stance relaxes somewhat. "But I will free you," he concedes, "Only because I cannot stand to be here and I especially don't want to be here with you two."
"So…how do we escape?" I ask tentatively, finally returning my sword to its sheath. I step up to come abreast with Light, standing close enough that our shoulders nearly touch.
Kuja grins that annoyingly knowing grin of his and says silkily, "My dear Rosebud, you make it seem as if we are in a prison. Whatever led you to believe that you are trapped here? Locked up like hapless birds in a cage?"
"Explain," says Light sternly, but I can hear his intrigue.
Kuja shoots Light a reproachful glare. "I am sick of being bossed around," he mutters, more to himself than to us, and then says in a clearer tone, "We are standing in mere darkness and what, my dears, is needed to eliminate darkness?"
"Light," I answer, immediately aware of the double connotation. Kuja's eyebrows shoot to his hairline as he sends me a mildly impressed grin and then trains his sharp eyes on the Warrior of Light.
"Good sir," he practically purrs, "If you would be so kind…?"
Kuja ghosts to my side and pulls me back. On instinct I resist, until I realize that he is simply trying to give Light room to work with. Light takes up this challenge as he would any other: with simple determination. He calls forth his sword and shield once more and brings himself into an impressive stance.
"Light!" he commands, his voice ringing wonderfully in the abysmal space. The burst of golden light that accompanies this famous attack shoots throughout the Between Space and for a split second I see the distinct purple walls of Pandaemonium. The darkness floods back and Light stumbles as his attack fades.
I jog over to Light and place a steadying hand on his upper arm. He flashes me a tiny, grateful smile.
"And therein lies the catch," murmurs Kuja, oddly placid. "The Between Space feeds on energy. The more you exert yourself, the more tired you become, and the more time seems to shift around you."
"We wandered for some time," I say, "but surely that does not count? It was barely an effort."
"Doesn't matter," says Kuja, shrugging. "The Between Space takes whatever it can get." Kuja scowls then and his tail retreats within the folds of his skirt; he glares at me, warning me silently to never mention it to anyone. I shrug and nod; it's not my secret to tell anyway.
"Wonderful," singsongs Kuja, snapping back to his usual, annoying self. He fixes Light with a piercing glare, "Do you have any light-based attack that lasts a little bit longer? We'll need more than a second if we all wish to get through."
Light nods and his face hardens with that same determination, eliminating all traces of his previous weariness. He steps away from me as he brings his shield up to his chest and raises his sword in preparation—
"Hold on," I shout suddenly; Light falters and a miniscule glimmer of gold gives me a glimpse of the Lunar Subterrane. Both Kuja and Light turn to look at me with irritation and curiosity respectively. "Your helm."
I pick the object in question from where Light left it during our…conversation and tuck it carefully under my arm, mindful of the curving yellow horns. Light smiles faintly and regains his stance; for all his strength, I can make out a slight tremor is his arms as he raises his sword and shield. And then the sword arches high overhead and swoops gracefully through the floor of darkness. Geysers of light explode and race into the abyss, lighting up the dark around us to reveal Order's Sanctuary and the awed faces of our companions.
"Hurry!" hisses Kuja, launching himself forward toward the light. He grabs the dazed Warrior by one arm and I immediately grasp his other and together we pull him from the Between Space. There is an instant where I feel as though all the air is being compressed from my lungs and Light's helm slips from my grasp—I hear it clatter to the ground some ways away. Primarily, I am aware of the warmth of Light's body next to mine, and then the bruising pain as we crash to the watery ground of the Sanctuary.
I lay there for a while, dazed and inexplicably tired, before the whoops and hollers of our companions ring in my ears. I sit up abruptly and am immediately swept into tight hugs from Bartz, Zidane, and Tidus simultaneously. Cecil pulls me free and to my feet; he grins at me, eyes shining with relief, before embracing me swiftly.
"It is good to see you are alright, friend," he says, trying to remain calm but he cannot stop smiling; it's as if a hundred pounds has just lifted from his shoulders.
Terra lets out a small sob and secures her arms tightly around my waist. "You scared me, Firion! I nearly had a heart attack when you fell!"
"I'm all right, Terra," I assure her, petting her hair soothingly. She sniffles and nods and reluctantly releases me; the Onion Knight takes immediate hold of her hand and the girl smiles at him gratefully.
I look down at Light, who is still lying on his back with his eyes pinched shut as he concentrates on simply breathing. I crouch swiftly as his side and ignore the not-so-subtle nudge that Tidus gives Cloud, who simply rolls his eyes and continues to mind his own business. Light's eyes snap open when my fingers graze his cheek and his exhausted gaze quickly seeks out mine.
"We're out," I tell him needlessly, but the words are still comforting to hear. "We're back in the real world."
The Warrior of Light nods and then, by Cosmos, he smiles and it is the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. He sighs and his eyes slide shut and then he slips into a deep slumber, but I am not concerned. I know deep down that he will wake up and he will smile like that again soon.
"Well," says Kuja, effectively drawing all attention to him. He must've tumbled further away than Light and I, which is entirely plausible seeing how tiny he is. He brushes imaginary dirt from his skirt and jacket and flicks his hair over his shoulders. "That's that, then. We'll meet again, Firion, I have no doubt, but let's not let the animosity between our sides get in the way of our friendship. I do believe we had something going for us in the Between Space, however brief my presence was."
Kuja grins and, for once, it isn't quite so superior and all knowing as it usually is, though, by his mildly antagonistic tone, he is definitely teasing me. As if to assure me of this, he winks one silvery eye and his grin turns into his patented smirk. He looks about to disappear from our company, but he hesitates and puckers his lips delicately.
"On second thought," he muses, "I don't mind taking the long way out of here. Farewell, Firion, hold onto that Light of yours." He glances at Zidane, as if just remembering the rest of my companions. "You…" he says, wrinkling his nose. "Goodbye."
Kuja, in a bizarre and graceful and almost comical way, promptly lifts up from the ground and shoots off into the sky in blaze of silver and lavender. Moments later, Zidane breaks into guffawing laughter and Bartz joins him delightedly; after that display, it's hard not to laugh along with them. And I feel at home again, sitting with a sleeping Light's head pulled gently into my lap with Cecil standing like a sentry at my shoulder and surrounding by the bright faces of my friends. If anything, this is the moment where time should slow to a crawl and seem to last forever.
III
The Warrior of Light sleeps dreamlessly, his face etched with absolute peace and no traces of the nightmares that once plagued him. As I sit on the edge of Cosmos's wide white throne with Cecil quietly by my side, he sighs contentedly and shifts a little beneath his quilt. It has been a week—this I know for sure—since we escaped the Between Space and every night since then as been peaceful for Light. He tells me so every morning. And true to the promise he made all those centuries ago in the abyss, he now travels with me—with me and Tidus and Cecil and, until recently, Cloud as well. Cloud now travels with Terra and the Onion Knight, not to avoid Light for any reason whatsoever, but because he somehow feels guilty for not being there when Kuja attacked Terra and Onion. Nevertheless, Light is traveling in the company of others and I am honored that it is mine as well.
"He made a promise to me," Cecil murmurs abruptly. "Did you know? I made him promise to keep you safe."
"He told me about that," I say, still staring fondly at Light. "It was when Sephiroth stole my wild rose. He intervened before I entered a battle I could not win."
"And you returned to us, safe and sound," finishes Cecil. Then he looks at me with this twinkle in his eyes; it's a twinkle I've only seen in Zidane and Bartz—mischief. "You know, I never told him to protect you just that once, I only made him promise to keep you safe. If he's as responsible and as honest as he seems, he's probably still holding himself to that promise. And Firion, we all know that Light is, in fact, as honest as he seems."
I laugh quietly. "Since when were you so mischievous, Cecil?"
He shrugs a little too casually. "Since it became apparent that you had a crush on Light."
"I'm not really that obvious am I?"
"Yes, my friend, I'm afraid you are." Cecil chuckles quietly. "But don't worry, Light's not too good at hiding his feelings either…or at least not the ones that really matter."
The following morning places the four of us around the fire, enjoying a breakfast of bread, bacon, and juice—all of which, Tidus charmed a moogle into selling at nearly a third of its intended price. Speaking of Tidus, the boy cannot stop grinning like a fool and keeps shooting amused glances at Light, who is sitting very comfortably and very close at my side, and then me. He looks as though he just found ten million gil.
Usually this is when I scold Tidus for being nosy and rude, but this morning Light beats me to it.
"Tidus, please contain your jealously. It is unbecoming of you."
Tidus's face drops like a stone to disbelief, Cecil hides a grin behind his hand, and I beam proudly at the man beside me. Tidus, for once, cannot seem to formulate coherent words and it takes him a good two minutes to recover from the shock of being teased by the Warrior of Light, our stoic, no-nonsense leader. Light, impressively, retains his usual impassiveness and waits quietly for Tidus to pull himself together.
"Wha… Jealous…? No! I'm not… What?"
"Admit it, Tidus," sniggers Cecil, "you're jealous. You wish you had the Warrior of Light to kiss you good morning every day."
Ignoring my embarrassed flush, Tidus points an accusatory finger at the laughing Paladin. "That was one the gayest things I've ever heard! I bet you're the one who's jealous! You've always been so buddy-buddy with Rosebud, I bet you're upset now because he's with someone else!" As an after thought, Tidus hastily tacks on, "Besides, I have a girlfriend back home."
Cecil shakes his head, still laughing quietly to himself. "As attractive as Firion is—"
"Firion is sitting right here and rather embarrassed, thank you," I grumble, trying to hide behind my hands and Light's broad shoulder.
"—I'm afraid jealousy is not an issue for me," Cecil continues, barely sparing me an apologetic glance. "You see, Tidus, I have a 'girlfriend' back home as well." Cecil's grin turns wicked. "His name is Kain."
"No! Shut up!" yells Tidus, steadily becoming more and more distressed. "Yuna's a girl and she's very beautiful!"
"Kain is quite lovely as well," the Paladin counters relentlessly. "Long blond hair, fair skin; he's stunning really."
"Shut up," yowls Tidus, clapping his hands over his ears, though even he cannot contain the grin tugging at his lips, "I don't want to hear you compare your boyfriend to Yuna. She deserves better…!"
Whatever else Tidus has to say on what Yuna deserves is tuned out as Light shifts to place an arm around my shoulders. I lean against him happily and carry on with eating my breakfast. Light presses a kiss to my forehead and I can feel more than hear his voice rumbling in his chest.
"Good morning," he says, thoroughly amused. "Rosebud."
I pull back and look at him; this is the first time I have ever heard someone use that silly nickname without the intent of embarrassing me. Light stares steadily back, his eyes bright with sincerity and love, and his mouth quirks into a smile. A small, but infinitely beautiful smile.
A/N: A little shout-out to FFIV at the end there. Seriously though, Kain and Cecil are so gay together, it's beautiful. I haven't finished the game yet because my brother took the DS with him to college (damn him!), but it's become less of "let's find out who this 'Golbez' guy is" and more of "I need to find Kain!" I miss him and his deep sexy man-voice so much…even though I know he's gonna have been mind-fucked and he'll attack me as soon as I find him again.
So thank you for reading and please, please, please review! As much as I love it when people add my stories to their favorites lists, I really love getting reviews, too!
—Astrum