The house is empty in a way he doesn't remember it being. It reminds him of the quiet that settled over the house after Elisabeth died, the omnipresent sorrow that had filled every crack in his being, except this time, the loss is more complete, the loneliness unshakable.
They'd taken Dajh from his clutching hands. They'd ignored his tears, ignored the fact that Dajh was his son, and taken Dajh away from everything he'd ever known. Sazh couldn't shake the feeling that he'd given up his son for a chocobo and it didn't help to know that if Elisabeth had been there, it wouldn't have ever happened because his wife had been sharp as a tack and faster than lightning.
If he takes his habitual walk into Dajh's room, it will be empty, he knows it will be empty, toys from three mornings ago still strewn about because getting Dajh to clean was like getting Elisabeth to cook—it just didn't happen, except for in dire situations. His favorite stuffed chocobo will be there too. Sazh remembers—he'd promised to sew the eyes back on, but it just hadn't happened and oh, he wishes it had, because how Dajh would have smiled to see Chirpy returned to past glory. (Will Dajh be able to sleep in a strange facility? Will he be able to sleep without Daddy to get him milk when he's afraid of the monster under the bed? Will he be able to sleep without Chirpy guarding his dreams?)
At his side, the chocobo warks despondently, and Sazh can't shake the feeling that it understands. A part of him, the part of him that's a father, wants to reassure the tiny chick, but he can't find the words, can't find the hope.
"I'm Jihl Nabaat and I'll look after your son," she'd said, smile like ice. 'To find his Focus' still played through Sazh's head, along with 'hero' and 'Sanctum facility' and 'you should be proud, Mr. Katzroy'. But pride wasn't what he felt—no, it was loss, like all other sorts of loss, except worse, because he was losing his son.
Sleep doesn't come to him—Sazh merely reaches over and gently strokes the chick's feathers until it quiets.
There's nothing left to do except wait and hope he can see Dajh again, hope that his Focus is found so that—
But he can't imagine his son as a monster, can't imagine his life ended before he ever even had a chance to try much of anything, before—
Sazh stops that thought too. His Focus has to be found, and even if there's nothing else he can do for Dajh anymore (can't scare off monsters, or repair chocobo dolls, or rescue him from the Sanctum) he can be there the second they let him in, he can help find his Focus and make sure that Dajh gets another chance.
There's silence in the house, except for his own breathing, but he supposes that's just something he should just get accustomed to; Sazh puts his head in his hands.