This is my first fan fic – ever! Normally I write fantasy of my own creation or science fiction, but I don't normally dabble in the worlds of other people. BUT with that said, I owe a lot of my work to the likes of George Lucas, Russel T. Davies, Peter Jackson and, perhaps most importantly Hironobu Sakaguchi. This first story – which isn't really a story, just a series of thoughts – is based on one of Sakaguchi-san's works, Final Fantasy IX.

Set after the Iifa Tree apparently destroyed Kuja and Zidane, this is a documentation of Zidane's thoughts over the first few hours of his captivity in the Tree. It isn't going to be long – maybe three or four chapters of 6 or 700 words at a time – but it is going to be pretty dark, with contemplations of death and despair, so you have been warned. Read and review, if you please.

Darkness.

All around him was darkness, sheer obsidian blackness surrounding him, drowning him with its coldness, crushing him with its presence. If this was what dying was, he wanted death to come quickly.

But was this dying? He could still feel Kuja's body beneath his own, still warm from life, and somehow comforting as it lay beneath his own. It was a strange paradox of what he had been in life, the angel of death that had created so much havoc and distress throughout Gaia being a comfort to his brother.

Brother. The word seemed alien, but Zidane knew that it was true. The concept of Kuja being his brother was strange and somewhat disturbing, but it was true, and after what Kuja had done in saving the party at the Iifa Tree mere minutes ago – or was it days? – Zidane found that he was almost proud of Kuja. He was a changed man at the end, a man who was repentant and remorseful, who simply saw death as his punishment. Now, death had come and the warmth and comfort was being lost from the lifeless body.

Zidane wondered where the others were now. Dagger could be at home, in Alexandria. She might be in one of the libraries, surrounded by scholars, searching for a way to free him from his woody prison. Steiner might be by her side, trying to persuade her that he was lost, that there was no hope of ever recovering even his body. Vivi could be at the Black Mage Village, trying to persuade the Genomes and the Mages to come and help. Zidane exhaled a long, slow breath. He doubted that the others even knew he was missing yet.

Dagger's face swam into Zidane's vision and stayed for a moment, its smoothness and innocence facing him. He would never see her face again, Zidane knew it. He would never smell her soft scent, hear her soothing voice. He loved her, he knew that, and deep down he knew she felt the same way. How would she cope with losing him? For a second, Dagger's face was distraught, distorted with misery, as it had been that night Atmos had destroyed Lindblum. It was heart-wrenching. Zidane knew he couldn't put her through that. No lover wanted to put his beloved through that, not if it could be avoided. He would get out of this prison and see her again, be united forever with her. He would be the Queen's consort.

But he knew that escape seemed impossible. The Iifa Tree had created an impenetrable black barrier, with no chance of escape. Death was the only way out of the prison.

"Death is an option, not the inevitable," a voice rang out in Zidane's head, gravely and ancient. Garland's voice, as it had spoken to Zidane outside Memoria. "Where there is life there is hope. You can survive this, Zidane. You can go back to your woman. Believe that, and you will live."

Garland's presence seemed to be in the blackness with him along with Kuja's dying aura. For a moment, it was startling, but after that, it was comforting. It reinforced Zidane's will to survive. He would survive. He didn't have an option. He didn't have a choice.

He remembered what Dagger had said, that whenever she was lonely or sad, she would sing that song, the song she had sung in Dali, in Lindblum. Gathering resolve, Zidane started to sing.