A/N: Okay, this story hijacked my brain, so I had to type it out. It's a combination of a bad dream I had about my mom dying, my weird FFX obsession, and too many late-night snacks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy X or any related insignia. I only own this strange, sad, little one-shot.

Warning: Contains a very little GippalRikku and AuronRikku. If you don't like it, go ahead and leave before you waste both of our time by flaming.

Reunited

They had called her children in now. They were all crying as she cradled them to her; no one protested at them crawling right on to the bed to be close to her. There was very little they could do to harm her now. They were trying so hard not to cry. Even her baby, Lulu, was trying to hold back tears. Her baby. Her baby was twenty-three years old, now . . .

Her husband was there with her, too. He had hardly left her side for the past two days, when she'd first felt the pull to go. She'd known that she was dying.

It still felt very surreal, shushing and comforting them. She was sad; sad that she wouldn't see her grandchildren grow up, that she wouldn't grow old with the man beside her, as she'd vowed to do. But when it started feeling like her time was upon her, all the sadness that she'd been feeling since last spring when the doctors had given her the news just sort of melted away. She had loved and been loved. She had laughed and fought and partied and cried and done things that she would never tell her mother about but would do again if she had the chance. She had raised the three best kids in the entire world, and was a grandmother five times over. The list of things she hadn't done seemed small in comparison.

"I love you, Mamma," came a muffled declaration fromKeyakku. Two more chorused from his twin, and their younger sister.

"I love you, too, babies. I love you so much. I'm sorry that I have to go now."

They cried together. Her husband, who had been holding on of her hands from his place beside the bed, joined in the family's embrace. Group hugs had always been Rikku's favorite, and she held her family to her as tightly as she could.

"It's alright, it's alright," she shushed them, "We'll all see each other again soon. What you have to do is keep havin' a rolickin' good time, y'hear?" She gave them each a playful pat on the shoulders. They pretended not to notice how weak those pats were. "'Cause I'm gonna be there partyin' with ya, okay?"

Her children accepted this with tears and smiles. She'd already spoken with each of them separately, telling them stories of when they'd been young, and when she had been young. They all eventually drew away, settling for kneeling beside the bed, as their father did. She looked at his one cobalt eye, just as bright as it had been the day they'd met, the day they'd married, the day the boys had been born. She'd had a lot of long talks with him, too. She squeezed his hand.

"I love you, Gippal."

"I love you, too, baby," he brushed a piece of graying hair from her face. "Don't worry about us, anymore."

And she didn't.

She had always assumed it would be like floating, but it wasn't. She didn't remember the moment she stopped breathing, anymore than you can remember the instant you fall asleep. She was only aware that she had been in a hospital room, holding her husband's hand, and now she was here, standing in a place that didn't seem to have any form. There were waterfalls, but no pools to catch them. There were flowers and pyreflies, but somehow mixed in with Sanubian sands, and the light that filled the space seemed to emanate from nowhere; there was no sun, or moon, or stars. And he was standing on the other side, as if he'd been waiting, knowing she would come all along.

His long red coat blew back in a wind that seemed to belong solely to him, since it didn't stir a single petal in this flower field. The gray was still in his hair, but he looked at her with two bright eyes behind those sunglasses, and both arms were healthy and whole.

"Auron!" She called, and ran to him, forgetting for a moment that her hair, too, had grayed, and that her body definitely showed the changes that three children and age were apt to bring upon it. But he still lifted her and twirled her in a circle through the air as though she weighed nothing. The broad smile that had always tickled the edges of his lips and the corners of his eyes finally showed itself.

"You are here."

"Yes," she breathed, gazing at the man that she had promised to meet long before she had made any promises to her husband, "I am here."