Urban Fantasy

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Final Fantasy and Squaresoft/Squarenix. I am making no money off this piece.

A/N: This story is AU, meaning takes place in an alternate universe. By that I mean Earth. It does NOT mean that this didn't happen in the game . You'll see.

Blah = thoughts, emphasis, or Spira

(Blah) = Fayth speaking (usually) because the stupid asterix won't work on

"No, Auron's right. This..." Whatever Tidus meant to say was drowned out as the spring that the watery pillar of the Fayth's Summons sprang from burbled a complaint, sighed, and exploded. Caught by surprise, the Guardians' battled trained reflexes kicked into overdrive as they dodged the sudden threat. Throwing themselves against the wall they reached for their weapons, their only thought to protect their Summoner against whatever bore down on them now. Kimahri alone was fast enough to pull Yuna out of harms way at the same time their backs collided with hard wall of the Fayth Scar.

And all thought was washed away in a flash of pure light.

(No, this is not the way...)

Aaron shot forward in bed, cold sweat chilling his bare chest that rose and fell with his ragged panting.

A nightmare, he thought disgustedly, freeing himself of the twisted, sweat-drenched sheets.

Hauling himself out of bed he glanced at the clock, turning all the way round to accommodate his useless right eye. The red block letters glowed 7:03 AM from a black clock/radio that had seen better days.

"Huh?" The alarm should have gone off an hour ago. Not that he was late but it would be passing up his usually leisurely morning routine in favor of getting showered, getting dressed and getting the hell out of here. He crossed the room to the bathroom door when the realization hit him like a punch in the face.

Where the hell am I?!

The room had a certain sterile elegance to it with its creamy white walls and colorful striped curtains that matched the bedspread of the queen-sized bed he had awoken in. Cheap picture frames showcasing views of the city adorned the wall over the bed while a TV sat at the foot of it on a small table.

A hotel room, he figured, maybe a Holiday Inn or something along those lines. Whatever it was it was a far cry from his own Spartan apartment simply equipped with a single kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and a small lving room. As far as he could remember the only decorations there were his gun rack, which was hidden, and his Thai Boxing diploma, which was not. Aside from that there was the TV he rarely watched and the makiwara, a warning sign to any who knew the first thing about martial arts. The rare person who did see the inside of his apartment usually did, that minority consisting of fellow cops or friends from the dojo. Blind dates or even intentional dates had become virtually non-existent ten years ago, not long after a desperate situation involving a criminal who wouldn't cooperate, no back up, and a knife put a close to his right eye, his social life, and his career in the field.

Pity that he didn't want kept him his job, stuck behind a desk for the rest of his natural life. He had been the best in the field, the most promising young officer the NYPD had seen in a long time but now...now he was just a liability, a has-been at age 35.

Padding over to the window he threw back the curtains, flooding the room with the dull gray light of an overcast morning. Only at the last minute did he realized that he was clad only in his black boxers and had there been, say, an apartment building across from the window he stood at they would have gotten front row seats for the showing of his mostly naked self.

Growling under his breath in annoyance Aaron turned away, rubbing his forehead as he wracked his brains to remember how he had gotten here. Had he been drunk? A possibility, a very likely possibility. As the hopelessness of his dead-end job had eaten away at him the bottle that he had once reviled had become quite attractive. But he had never drunk to the point of oblivion, at least not recently, and if he had there was no way he would have had the coherency to set himself up with a room.

I'm lucky to be alive, he realized, his hand dropping limply to his side. If drunkenness was indeed what had gotten him here then it probably meant he would have had to drive at some point. Even if he had walked here he would have been irresistible bait for muggers. That can't be it.

Thinking that perhaps a shower would clear his head, he turned the corner that led the bathroom, passing the full length mirror that served as the door to the closet and froze at the sight of his own reflection. The scar that stretched from hairline to shoulder was still there, a few shades darker than his skin, jagged and angry like the bastard had used his nails instead of the nine inch blade that Aaron had made the mistake of underestimating his expertise with.

Running a hand through his hair he stared in astonishment at its raven black lengths, long now that he didn't have to worry about some schmuck pulling on it when things got tight, reaching to his shoulder blades and with only the most imperceptible touch of gray, visible only if one used a cosmetic mirror, at the temples.

He stood rapt at the strangeness his own features held for him. His face was relatively smooth and free of frown-lines, the long scar adding age to a visage that otherwise looked no older than 30.

Of course I don't look much older than 30, Aaron thought, giving himself a mental slap. Frown lines, gray hair? Maybe I feel that old but I'm sure as hell not an old man yet.

After emerging from the shower he glanced at the logo imprinted into the towels before using it to squeeze the moisture out of his hair. A Holiday Inn, huh? He thought, At least I know where I am now. Providing that he hadn't somehow ended up in another city he calculated that he was just outside the center Manhattan and winced at the thought of the bill for a night in the heart of New York City. As he toweled himself off he realized there was no avoiding wearing the clothes he had worn yesterday. Sure some people at the office would comment, probably the girls since they noticed things like that, but he didn't have time to run home and change. Pulling his long black trench coat over his white t-shirt (nobody cared anymore if he wore his uniform) he grabbed his sunglasses and his wallet off the nightstand, stuffing the latter into his back pocket, below the handcuffs that hung from the belt loops. An eye patch just drew stares from people who couldn't help but wonder the extent of the damage it hid, not to mention added a somewhat villainous look that as a cop he would like to avoid. Sunglasses on the other hand covered up the worst of the damage while allowing people to see that, yes his eye was sealed shut by a scar and no the eye was not completely gone, just useless. He could handle the shudders.

He reached for the doorknob just as another hand reached out of it. With a startled oath he threw himself back, watching with surprise then horror as a black kid, his eyes hidden under the hood of a sleeveless purple vest walked through the door and gazed at him expectantly.

(You shouldn't be here,) the boy said, his voice an ethereal childish tenor. (Wake up.)

Aaron gasped as wrenching feeling tore through his body, as if his very soul was being shredded. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, a scream rising behind his sealed lips, his nostrils flaring with the effort to suck in breath. Collapsing to one knee he looked up at the child, fighting another wave of pain that started behind his eyes like a bad hangover then branched its way down his body, making every nerve-ending feel like it was being dipped in fire. Just when he thought he couldn't take it another second the boy frowned and as suddenly as it had started the pain stopped, leaving Aaron on the ground, gasping for breath and shivering at the memory of it. He had thought that the car-crash he had been in sixteen years ago, that moment when the airbag had slammed into his face and the car door had crunched into his body, was the most pain one could ever experience in a lifetime but obviously he had been wrong. His hands scrabbled at his face and arms, expecting them to be running with blood or at least covered in bruises except...wait.... For a moment it had seemed as if something, a foxtail with a rainbow on the end had floated beneath the skin of his arm but then faded leaving him no worse for wear than he had been when he had woken up.

(Strange,) the boy said in the odd voice that seemed to be heard and felt at the same time. (For some reason you do not want to leave this world, Sir Auron. Why is that?)

With a final wheezing gasp Aaron pushed himself to his feet, feeling more secure now that he was towering over the source of that horrendous pain. "Who the hell are you? What do you mean 'leave this world'?" If the boy meant killing him, an idea that would have seemed laughable had the child not just dropped him to his knees without moving a finger, then why hadn't he done so?

The boy shook his head, (This is unexpected. Perhaps I was wrong in thinking you would be the least susceptible.)

"You still haven't answered my question," Aaron said gruffly, feeling secure that the boy was not a threat for the moment but nonetheless casually slipping into a defensive stance, "Who are you?"

The boy's lips turned up in the tiniest smile. It was then Aaron noticed that the child's feet were bare and for some reason that surprised him more than his strange attire. (I have been called many names in many times and worlds. You would know me as the Fayth of the Dragon Aeon, Bahamut.)

What that was supposed to mean, Aaron thought, but he supposed that Bahamut was a strange name that fitted the strange boy well. "Very well, Bahamut. Now, what do you want with me?"

You should not be in this place. Why you are here I do not know but perhaps if you are all brought together you will be able to leave.

"Leave? Kid...Bahamut, I have work in about fifteen minutes and there's no way I can get there in time with New York traffic. Whoever you're looking for, this 'Sir Auron' isn't me."

(You're wrong. There is nowhere you need to be right now in this place. It is more serious than I thought if the spirit of this world has control over you. Tell me, do you have memories of a family here? A life?)

Of course I do! Aaron almost blurted out but checked his reaction and replied calmly, "Why wouldn't I? I have lived here my whole life."

The mysterious smile returned, (Really? Then tell me: what is your last name?)

Aaron opened his mouth to reply and the cold realization swept through him...

(You see? You are not of this world. Even now it is rejecting you. It is only a matter of time before you are free of it. But for some reason you cannot free yourself as you should be able to.)

"No...I'm Aaron... Officer Aaron of the NYPD, I..." yet even as he said it the details seemed to slip through his fingers leaving nothing to fill in the sudden holes in his memory.

(You are Sir Auron of Spira, Guardian to the Summoner Yuna and her father High Summoner Braska before her. You are on a quest to defeat Sin. You are now endeavoring to break the endless cycle of death and put a stop to our dreaming. You wish to go to the Farplane where you may rest in peace after freeing your friend Jecht from the imprisonment of Yu Yevon.)

The names swirled through Aaron's memory, as if to reassert themselves into his consciousness but found no purchase. He wanted them to, he wanted to make sense of this crazy situation at the same time he wanted this boy, these thoughts out of his head so he could return to his life.

(I can help you but you must do as I say,) Bahamut said. (Then I promise you, you can have what you want.)

"And why should I believe you?" Aaron said with more than a touch of bitterness in his voice.

(I could give you many reasons but the truth is that you must. Now, if you'll excuse me,) With that the boy closed his eyes began to fade in a swirl of multi-colored lights.

"Wait!" Aaron cried and the boys dissolving form froze in its state of translucency, the rainbow foxtails still dodging in and out of his body. Aaron realized, feeling a bit foolish, that it was not his plea that had stopped the boy. Whatever had just happened though it convinced him that unless someone was playing of very expensive joke on him involving expensive CGI and hallucinogens that this was the real deal.

(Found one,) the boy said, solidifying. (Do you have means of transportation?)

"You mean a car?" he said archly. The boy nodded. "Yes. But first I need to pay the bill."

(It has been taken care of.)

That gave Aaron a pause and he looked down at the boy, a question written on his face.

(You were never here. As I said, this reality is rejecting you. It's only a matter of time before you reject it in turn and return to your own,) Aaron decided that it was best not to think too deeply on this. Either it was some crazy dream that he'd wake up from in the morning or somehow this kid was going to solve the problem. Either way, a hotel bill was the least of his worries.

The boy followed him down the hallway and into the elevator though by the way he had stepped through the door, Aaron had a feeling that normal transportation was superfluous to the apparition.

The receptionist waved at him as he went by, seemingly unconcerned by the threatening man with the long black trench coat and raven hair tied back in a ponytail that was leaving one of the rooms. Her eyes did not even flicker as she looked straight through Bahamut and Aaron's own narrowed at the implications.

(They cannot see me but for the moment they can see you. Just pretend as if I am not here and everything will be fine.)

Nodding as if to himself to show that he understood, Aaron stepped out into the busy city streets, sinking into the flow of pedestrian traffic like a fish into water. Despite what he had told the kid it wouldn't take him that long to get to work from here but getting to his apartment and more importantly the parking garage that housed his car, assuming he had walked here, was another matter.

"Where are we headed?" he asked Bahamut, assuming that since the faith or whatever it was hadn't stopped him that he must be going where it wanted.

(I am not sure yet. I will know when I find it.)

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

Bahamut gave him a wry smile. (It is all we can do until we find the others.)

"What others?"

(Your fellow Guardians and your Summoner.)

It was all too weird so Aaron just nodded as if he had the faintest idea what the kid was saying and continued walking until he reached the entrance of a subway.

(I thought you said you had your own means of transportation?)

"This is faster than going back to the car in this traffic."

The boy said nothing but grabbed Aaron's hand, sending a jolt of surprise through the cop. Bahamut's hand felt normal, it was even warm like a normal human being's but for a moment he had had the distinct impression of claws big enough to crush his skull engulfing his hand.

The world around them seemed to shift and suddenly they were standing in a familiar musty parking garage next to an even more familiar red jeep.

A wave of nausea hit Aaron and he closed his eye until it passed. Somehow with all the strange things that had happened this morning he knew this shouldn't surprise him but it was all he could do to bite down a startled curse.

(Is this the correct place?) Bahamut asked those his tone implied that he knew very well that it was. Aaron nodded mutely and pulled the keys from his jean pocket, unlocking the door and starting the jeep with a roar. The passenger door opened and the boy took a seat next to him. (Don't worry, I'll find it.)

They pulled out of the parking garage and into the streets. Aaron's eye narrowed as he peered over his shades at the swiftly moving traffic, unnatural at this hour in this city. Glancing down at the boy he was about to ask if he had anything to do with it but decided against it. "Buckle your seatbelt," he said curtly.

(That won't be necessary.)

Aaron didn't argue the point.

A/N: This was the first fic I have written that enabled me to do research It was a ton of fun. Anyway, the hotel Aaron awakes in actually exists in downtown Manhattan and the description of the room is accurate. I interviewed a 3rd degree black-belt to find out what the most dangerous but also the most useful in real life form of empty-handed martial arts there was and he told me Thai Kick Boxing. Those people can literally take off your head! He also told me about the makiwari. A makiwari is made out of two boards with a cloth wrapped around the top. It is much more unyielding and tough than a normal punching bag and anybody who has one laying around that uses it regularly to train is pretty tough.

If you are wondering about why Aaron does not look like Auron and why he is surprised at this, let me explain. Everyone has a very clear mental image of themselves (this is also explained in the first Matrix movie). Aaron was initially startled because while he does not remember being Auron, deep down he knows what he is supposed to look like and when he doesn't that shocks him. Contrary to this, Auron of Spira is only 35. Even with all that he has been through, he should not look that old. My theory is that he looks that old because he feels that old. He has seen a lot and endured his own death. Though it shouldn't be enough to change his physical appearance, he is no longer bound by the physical laws because his body is now made up of his mental image (i.e. the pyreflies). However, his stay in our world is dominated by the spirit (or Gaea I suppose for other FF fans) of our world. It sees him as an alien presence and so tries to adjust him to our world. Aaron is who Auron would be in our world (the whole unsent thing wouldn't have happened so rather than killing him, Gaea makes it so he never died. If he never died then he would not look as old as he felt thus the younger appearance). However, this is not enough and so our Gaea begins to reject him. While he is still visible to us he is no longer part of our lives and thus any people he knew here (unless they are reflections of Spira) no longer remember him as a cop. Bahamut on the other hand is a Fayth, a spirit of Spira. Thus, only Spirans can see him.

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