Chapter 1 A young woman walked across the sandy beach of a small island off the coast of Spira, a sword strapped to her back. She traveled barefoot and carried a fishing pole. A slender, beautiful woman, she was muscular with perfect proportions to her height. Her face had fine delicate features, and her complexion was a flawless peaches and cream colour. Her lips were full and sensuous and she had a devastating smile on the few occasions that she was inclined to reveal it. But it was her eyes that impressed people the most, distinct almond shape, framed in ebony black lashes, the colour unusual and stunning. People often found themselves staring at her in rapt fascination. Her thick wavy hair was a rich warm mahogany colour and it fell in rivers down the whole of her back. It was often said a hint of jasmine followed her.

She stopped walking to watch two local youths leaning over something lying on the beach. They had been collecting driftwood in a tarp when they came upon something washed up out of the depths. She couldn't quite make out what it was except for a flash of crimson. Fearing that, as young boys are sometimes wont to do, the youths had attacked some poor helpless creature, she hurried down the beach toward them.

It became quickly clear that what she was seeing was the body of a man - unfortunately not a rare sight at these times in Spira - the red his full length coat. The boys were at a loss; they didn't know what to do. Syan ran up, dropped to her knees, and turned the man over. Her heart unexpectedly skipped a beat. His face was pale, deeply lined, and covered in a new, dark growth of beard. No longer young, he was still a ruggedly handsome man with very strong features. On the right side of his face he had a scar running from his hairline right through his eye, and down his cheek. He had obviously seen his share of battle. Some of his long black hair was plastered over his face and his ponytail draped over his throat. She moved it aside, and pressed her fingers into the contours of his neck. There was a pulse . He had a nasty bump on his head; it was angry and swollen. She guessed a concussion was the probable cause of his unconsciousness. She held her hand gently against his skin. On top of everything else, he was running a fairly high fever. She looked up at the boys and flashed them a radiant smile, which they shyly returned.

"It's ok, boys, I'll take care of it from here." They sighed with relief and turned to leave.

"Wait just a moment. Where do you think you're going with that?" She gestured toward one of the boys, who was dragging a huge six-foot sword.

"It's mine! his honey brown eyes flashed with defiance "I found it down the beach." He shook his head and the mass of blonde curls bounced away from his face and then fell back into place again.

"I think you'll find it belongs to him," she pointed to the man in red. He moaned, beginning to regain consciousness, and his undamaged eye fluttered as he tried to open it. The boy shifted uneasily on his feet.

"How do I know for sure it's his?" He jerked his head in the direction of the man. "Besides, he doesn't look like he will survive, anyway."

Syan could not debate it any longer. She had hoped to remain unnoticed, for the most part, but the man needed to be taken out of the sun and looked after properly.

"I'll tell you what," she said, unstrapping the sword from her own back. "I'll give you this one in exchange."

"Why should I?" the boy held tighter to the sword, but he looked interested all the same.

"Well," Syan's shoulders fell and her breath escaped in a sigh, "that sword is bigger than you are, and you probably can't even wield it. This one is more your size." She became aware that the man was looking up at her, but then he drifted back into unconsciousness again. "And," she continued, "in case you didn't notice, this man is a warrior. If that sword is his, and he recovers, he will come looking for it, I can assure you."

The boy hesitated for a moment longer, watching the man struggle through his delirium. Then he dropped the big sword and took the one Syan held out "Leave the tarp, and it will be a fair exchange." Both boys grinned at each other and happily dropped the rope to the tarp, hurrying off with their new treasure. The man, barely conscious again, struggled to speak, but eventually he gave it up.

Syan carefully rolled him and the sword onto the tarp. It amazed her just how heavy one semiconscious man could be. She collected up everything that she thought might belong to him, picked up the rope to the tarp and dragged it slowly back along the sand. She didn't like the idea that she was leaving such a noticeable trail to her shelter, but it couldn't be helped just now. The trip over grassland proved a lot rougher, and she found herself straining with all her muscles. "Wait," she heard a faint whisper. He was awake. "Can you walk?" She was amazed at the speed at which he was regaining his strength, unsure before whether he would even live. He was now struggling to get up. "Its not much further." He nodded and slowly rose to his feet, but immediately dropped back down. Syan grasped him around the waist and pulled his arm over her shoulder. The weight of him buckled her knees, but, slowly, they covered the remaining ground to the shelter. Laying him down on her make shift bed, she covered him with a blanket. He was soaking wet.

"I'll be right back," she said. "You are safe here, trust me." He was out again.

She ran back to the beach and did her best to cover her tracks. Within about ten minutes she had some small fish caught and cleaned to make some broth, then she was back quickly setting the fire and filling the pot. He was looking dehydrated, and a bit undernourished. Now she turned all her attention to him.

"I hope you don't mind, but you must take all this stuff off," and she began to remove his clothing. "You are soaked to the skin. Besides, this leather will be completely ruined if it's not treated right away."

While she undressed him she checked him carefully for further injuries and found none. She then covered him again with the blanket and felt his head. The fever was getting worse. She placed her hands on the bump on his head and began to reach inside herself to call on the healing power she possessed. The warmth flowed from her fingers to the wound and she felt the familiar draining of energy from her own body. As the angry colour of his wounded skin began to fade, he let out an audible sigh of relief. She pulled herself away from him; the healing was always so tiring. Good, he was sleeping now. If only she had a cure potion, it would help. Well, she would just have to do it the old fashioned way.

Later he awoke, just long enough for her to get some broth into him, but quickly was asleep again. She stayed up all night checking his progress, sponging the fever down, and giving him liquids. By morning he finally opened his eye and looked at her. She smiled down at him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired," was all he could answer. He tried to move, but he was too weak.

"You and me both," she felt uncommonly weary. "Just sleep now. The fever is broken and you're going to survive."

Again, she placed her hands on him, calling the power from within her. He let out another sigh of relief. She noticed him watching her as she began to give in to the strain. She was tired and this was obviously draining her more.

Pushing her hand away weakly, he spoke in a whisper

"Enough," She moved the hair off his face and scrutinized him carefully.

"You will feel better tomorrow, trust me. Just sleep now."

With those words, he relaxed back into sleep. The last thing he remembered before drifting off were those incredible eyes looking down at him. He had never seen eyes like them before. They were almost cat-like but edged in sweeping dark lashes, and they were the most amazing color. The pupils were encircled by the deepest blue color, blending into warm honey brown and then edged in sea green It was hard to say exactly what color they actually were; they would seem to change with whatever was around her face. Soon he was asleep again, remembering anew letting go of Tidus and feeling the awful pull of Sin taking him back to Spira. He heard Jecht's voice in his head.

"Don't forget."

He dreamed he was walking along a path lined with bushes of Jasmine. He inhaled their fragrance deeply, running his fingers over the delicate blossoms. Birds were singing everywhere and their song was getting louder and louder, disturbing his tranquility. Real sound began to drift into his head; sleep was lifting and he awoke. A gentle hint of jasmine still remained in his nostrils. Opening his eye, he saw rivers of mahogany spilling over the tarp in front of him. She was sleeping right next to him, both of them sharing the same blanket. He quickly lifted his head. Pain shot through his temple and he had to lie back down again. Feeling him move, she turned to face him, smiling.

"Good morning. You slept through an entire day. You look a lot better to- day."

She climbed out from under the cover and began to go through her morning ritual. She pulled the brush curtain from the doorway to let the light in. He had to admit this young woman was probably one of the most beautiful women he had seen, with her thick wavy hair, falling right down to the small of her back, the gentle curve of her face, the sensuous lift of her mouth. and those eyes. He could not stop looking at her eyes. Syan glanced up at him . He looked away, embarrassed,

"Are you always in the habit of sleeping next to men you don't know?" his voice was almost accusing . Syan's mouth dropped open in obvious surprise at his verbal attack.

She struck back. "Well, Your Majesty, if you had informed me you were coming I would have prepared the master suite for you. It was cold last night, and, besides, I didn't feel any need to worry about you." He tried to grasp her meaning, confused.

"After all you talk in your sleep, calling out the names of the people in your life. Since they were all men, I just assumed."

"Just assumed what!?" his eyebrow arched upwards. He wanted immediate clarification.

Hastily Syan added, "It's alright. I'm perfectly fine with it."

"Wait just a minute!" his face tinted red to match his coat. He was stunned as he caught her meaning

"Well you are from a temple, I can see from your clothes. A Warrior Monk, I assume. I've heard it happens all the time among the monks. There's no point in getting upset."

"I'm not upset!" Anger edged his voice. Syan just shrugged and turned back to what she was doing.

"Whatever, it's nothing to me."

In all his years he had never had to deal with this kind of accusation and, frankly, he was totally unsure how to react.

"You are mistaken!" he spit the words out, "but, if you need proof, then just say so."

Syan was not listening to him; she was straining to hear something off in the distance. He was not about to let her dismiss him in this way and he began to struggle into a sitting position. He needed to gain back control and he was curious to see how she would react to his response. Sitting up, folding his arms across his chest, he waited. She seemed totally distracted and then suddenly became distraught, her eyes darting around the shelter. He noticed she was particularly troubled by the open doorway. For a second he thought she might be afraid of him, but instead she quickly grabbed her cloak, pushed him back and flung herself right on top of him, pinning him down, making sure the cloak covered every part of him. He lay momentarily motionless, stunned. This was definitely not the reaction he had anticipated!

His voice cracked. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Syan pushed his head down to the ground. The air hissed through her teeth.

"Shut up!"

She pulled her hood over their heads. He felt as if she were trying to flatten him into oblivion. Then he heard footsteps. He felt her trembling all over, her muscles coiled tightly, ready for flight, and her heart pounding so hard he could feel it thudding against his own chest. He didn't speak. Her face was resting next to his and her breathing was heavy in his ear. He could tell she was terrified. As soon as he heard the voices, he recognized the speech. They were Guado. What were they doing so far away from their home, and what did they have to do with her? With the aid of the cloak he and Syan blended into the background, invisible to the passing guards. Before long the footsteps receded, yet Syan was still frozen, as if her muscles could not move. He slipped his arm reassuringly around her.

"Ok, they're gone now. I think you're safe." Syan lifted her head, looking directly into his face. She tried to smile, but a bead of sweat rolling down her brow just made her look more anxious.

"So, why are you hiding from Guado soldiers?" he tried to distract her thoughts from her fear. "Are you a thief, or something?"

"You don't even know me, and you just assume I'm a thief!?" It had obviously had the desired affect.

"It's no worse than the assumption you made of me." He couldn't resist throwing back a terse response.

She glanced behind her, realizing he had his arm looped over her back. They both seemed to sense at the same moment what a compromising position they were presently in. For some reason her closeness made him uneasy; the smell of her, and the incredible silkiness of her skin. Her hair was falling loosely around his face, her hands resting on his neck and shoulders, the contour of their bodies molded together. Then at almost the same instant a shocked expression crossed both their faces. Syan's eyes flew open and she let out a small gasp.

"Get off!" He shoved her aggressively away sending her sprawling on her back in the dirt. He turned his back to her, mortified. Forgetting himself, he had let his guard down, and actually responded to the girl. He cursed under his breath, angry and annoyed, and yet he couldn't deny that he was also surprised he actually could respond to her. She sat up, pulling leaves out of her hair,

"Not exactly a gentleman, are you," she slapped the soil off her hands.

They sat in embarrassed silence for a moment. He turned briefly to look at her, ready to apologize, but he couldn't get the words out. She was blushing, and her lips began to tremble. All of a sudden, totally unexpectedly, Syan let out a guffaw. Then she began to laugh uncontrollably.

"Well, there goes that theory," she shrugged her shoulders. She threw back her head and laughed again. He just let out an exasperated sigh. This woman threw him off balance, and he was not used to being flustered. She gave him a grin, and the tension between then seemed to evaporate into thin air.

Lying back down again he was overcome with exhaustion. It would take a little while longer for him to regain his strength. He knew he had no choice, he had to put his trust in her and let her care for him. He hated to be dependant on anyone, and especially this woman, this unsettling woman,. He shook the thoughts from his head, and focused on something else.

She threw the blanket over him. "So, what is your name, anyway?" she continued over her shoulder as she set about preparing some food.

"I'm called Auron."

"Auron." she repeated his name "Auron, the Warrior Monk" she embellished, smiling to herself, then, suddenly, her head snapped in his direction, eyes staring.

"Sir Auron, the legendary Guardian?" He just smiled at her awkwardness and shrugged. It would seem even she had heard of him. Her cheeks blushed with embarrassment

"Red coat, six foot sword, of course! How could I have missed it.Why didn't you tell me before?" I'm sure the leader of the village would welcome you into his house. You could have a warm bed, your own bath and decent food to eat."

He shook his head. The thought nearly made him shiver. "Yes, and I would be the curiosity of the village, and everyone would want to know my business, No, this will be fine. I prefer to recuperate here."

He could see she was lost in her own thoughts.

"Braska and Jecht , those were the names you called out in your sleep. Even an idiot could have put two and two together." She dropped her head in her hands, her hair falling softly about her face. Then she lifted her head and swept her hair back behind her ears.

"Who is Tidus?"

"He is Sir Jecht's son. I promised to take care of him and I should be out looking for him now." He sighed, his task returning to his thoughts and weighing heavily on his mind.

"I wasn't even aware that Sir Jecht had a wife," she said, shaking her head, "But as to finding his son, it will have to wait a few days. You're still not strong enough. You know, Sir Auron, there's been no word of you for at least ten years. A lot of people said you were dead. Where have you been?"

He just looked at her, considering. She would never believe him, never understand, it was something he had to carry alone, and his expression remained blank and closed. It was always the best answer to that question. He was thankful she didn't pursue it further and left it alone. He suspected she understood his tactic well enough. He watched the movement of her back as she returned to preparing the food.

"Ok, your turn," he said. "What's your name?"
"I'm called Syan, and that's all I'll say for now. It would be best if you knew as little about me as possible."

"That's good. It looks like you have your appetite back." She ate her own breakfast and rose to her feet.

"Now I'm going to get some water. It would seem someone needs a bath."

"Who?" He wolfed down the last of his meal, not paying much attention to what she said.

"You," and she flashed him a quick smile.

"Wait just a minute!" but she was disappearing out of sight. He shifted nervously, drawing his red coat tightly around him. He could handle any fighting situation you could throw at him but this was something else again. For a brief second the thought of running crossed his mind, yet he couldn't deny he was curious at the same time.

She returned with fresh water, carrying it in some large, crude buckets that she had made from old driftwood. He had to admit she was resourceful.

"Look, I'm not comfortable with this."

"Well, you're covered with salt from the sea, and stains from your leather vest. If you don't wash it off soon, it will irritate your skin." She shifted impatiently,

"Relax, will you, I'm not planning on being your nurse maid. I think you're strong enough to do this yourself." She dropped the cloth, towel, and bucket of water down at his feet,

"Here, knock yourself out." She turned and left. As he watched her go he heaved a huge sigh of relief, and proceeded to wash to the best of his ability. Syan was busy gathering things together, when he emerged into the sunlight, looking ashen and worn, the deep red of his coat contrasting with the paleness of his skin. She directed him to a place where he could sit and rest his back up against something. He sat, looking a little forlorn, clearly not happy about his present situation.

"Cheer up," she said, " you really had a nasty knock to the head, and on top of that you were ill and exhausted. It'll take time to gain back all your strength." She walked over to him and placed her hands on his forehead, and tried again to use her healing. He closed his eyes and let the warmth travel through him, enjoying her gentle touch. She pulled away, shaking her head. She had let all the energy she could afford drain from her.

"What's wrong with me?" When she looked at him he was watching with confusion.

"My apologies." She turned her gaze abruptly away from him, not wanting him to see her frustration.

"Your injuries are almost gone. It should be a simple case of healing you, but it's like I'm playing hide and seek when I try to cure you. I cannot reach the centre of your pain. Trying to explain just frustrated her further. She knew she had strong enough healing magic, but right now it seemed to have abandoned her.

"I have to admit it must be my inexperience."

He gazed blankly at her for a second.

"No need to apologize." He looked away from her, and let the air escape resignedly from his lungs "I definitely feel stronger each time you try."

She wondered by his reaction if he had experienced this result before. She placed her hand on his forehead again.

"Well, there is no fever anymore. You will recover soon." She brushed his hair back from his eyes. "Hmmm."

Syan jumped up and carried what was left of the water over to him.

"Lean your head back."

She walked behind him, draping his hair over the back of the seat. She undid the green tie in his ponytail, and carefully poured water over his head. Rubbing soap in her hands, she worked it into a lather, and drew it through his hair. He winced slightly when she touched his brow, so she very gently massaged his scalp and rubbed the soap through his hair. She enjoyed the feel of the thick strands gliding through her fingers.

She began to smile as she watched him relax and close his eye. He was a bit of a lone wolf, but she couldn't help but notice he enjoyed the little acts of tender care she imparted on him. He let his head fall back, his features unstrained and calm as the refreshing coolness of the water poured over him, rinsing all the salt and sweat away. She gently squeezed the water out, wrapped his hair in a dry cloth and then carefully she combed the length of it. It was quite long, silky black, with only wisps of white betraying his age. She retied it in place. All the while she said nothing, just the gentle rhythm of her breathing broke the silence.

He was totally relaxed, his muscles at ease and his hands open and resting on his lap, She considered, he probably didn't have many moments like this as a warrior.

"Thank you," he said

Auron watched as a wry smile played across her lips,

"Thank me later. Look what I have next." With that she whipped out a sharp razor and held it out in front of her. "I had a tough time finding this thing." He held up his hand to stop her, his eye shifting nervously.

"Have you ever shaved a man before,"

.

"No, but there's always a first time."

"Not on me." He took the razor from her. "I'm not letting some fool woman slice up my face."

Syan stood with her hands firmly on her hips

"Oh, don't be such a baby!" she folded her arms and waited. He scowled at her, obviously not accustomed to being compared to a child.

He soaped his face; his hands shaking weakly from all the exertion he had already gone through. With the first stroke he managed to nick himself. Dabbing the blood with the towel he glanced sideways at Syan who was standing and watching him. He gritted his teeth and then, resigning himself, he handed her the razor.

She immediately dropped to her knees in front of him; the expression on her face became focused and serious. He watched uneasily as she moved within a few inches of his face. She said nothing, her mind solely on the task at hand. She applied more soap, and placed her fingers under his chin. Barely speaking above a whisper, she uttered the words, "Trust me," and raised his chin. Strangely it sent a shiver through him and he allowed his head to go back, exposing his throat.

'Shick.', the razor glided briefly over his skin. She rinsed the soap off the blade, ready for the next stroke. 'Shick.', again it glided smoothly across his neck. She let her fingers trail softly behind the razor, gently exploring the surface of his face, to feel if the shave was close enough. As the razor continued to glide, her fingers followed, and the rhythm of it continued like a slow dance between the two of them.

When his neck was done, he swallowed and lowered his head. She moved in closer, almost at eye level. He could see the curve of her long, dark lashes as she shaved one cheek, then the other, his head tilting automatically in response to the gentle pressure of her fingers on his face. He closed his eyes, momentarily enjoying the surprising pleasure of her touch.

The scrape of the razor echoed in his ear, followed by the swish of the water as she cleaned the blade, the flow only interrupted occasionally by the exhale of her breathing. His anticipation grew as he awaited the next delicate caress of her fingers. As if her hands were his own, he contorted the skin across his chin to make it easier to shave. Her hands were quick and confident as she brought the sharp edge of the blade across the contours around his mouth. Her fingers trailed over his chin, lightly touching his lower lip and sending an electric pulse through him, causing him to catch his breath.

He watched her eyes as they danced over the surface of his face; she was lost in the ritual, not even aware of the effect it had on him. He could just catch her fragrance as she moved closer, a gentle breeze blowing wisps of her hair across his cheek. She would stop every so often to tuck it back behind her ear. Her mouth was only inches away.

"Stretch your upper lip," she hardly made a sound. She was so close he could feel the pressure of every word. She held her finger under his nose and drew the razor above his upper lip. He felt the warmth of her breath over his mouth as she concentrated on the final strokes, her fingers gliding after the razor and brushing his lip with a soft touch. He closed his eye, and, letting his lips part, he exhaled. She was done.

He hesitated to open his eye and look at her, waiting in silence until he had control of his thoughts again. The heavy blow of a towel thrown across his face brought him abruptly back to reality. He pulled the towel off in time to see her walking away with her fishing pole in hand. He smiled in spite of himself, shook his head and inhaled a deep breath. That was probably the most thrilling shave he had ever had.