Chapter Two: Concern

A/N: It's been so long since I wrote the first chapter that I can quite honestly say I don't remember what it is that Yuna's lying about. Guess this calls for writer's improvisation!

There were a surplus of empty guest rooms in the stone palace, all of which always went unused. In fact, Seymour much preferred to share his mother's room. Anima well knew that strong young men would sleep in their own beds apart from the warm, coddling embrace of their mothers, but she couldn't fight the fact that he was a deprived child anyway, and that somehow she'd be failing him to let him go with some want unmet. Besides, they were never going to escape this island, and Seymour wouldn't need to be strong. So she riddled herself with this controversy in her head, wanting to see the world through the innocent, naïve eyes of her baby boy instead of the worrisome, pessimistic eyes of her own. And so they lived on the island all alone together. She so wished that her son could have just one playmate--a friend, not just to lessen the workload of motherhood, but to help him socialize and break away from his infantile need of his mommy to hold his hand. He was 8 years old. She so dreamed of the strong, independent man he'd one day become if he just had company… To be wise and self sufficient like his father, always so charming and polite under all circumstances. Soft spoken, but with a will of steel. She prayed that one day he'd find himself a nice young woman to counsel with and care for, just like Anima had for Jyscal before it all went downhill that day. Such thoughts, she told herself, were so romantic and utterly farfetched in this cold, morbid, lonely world they lived in, but still-- they were such nice, glorious intuitions of hope…

She'd have gladly prayed to Sin than Yevon just to see them fulfilled.

…Perish the thought. They'd remain on this island until ultimately, one of them died, followed by the other by heartbreak and loneliness… (Anima secretly, for this reason, hoped Seymour died first--oh, dread the thought-- but it broke her heart to think of… what he might do to himself should she be the first to depart to the farplane.) The cute little visions of some spirited child arriving for playful afternoons with her son would never happen.

Or so the both of them would have thought.

Seymour stood outside the door, gazing in at his mother attentively wrapping the limp but breathing body of the little girl that had floated ashore. Tucking her in, checking her temperature, doing all things that she had been precision trained to do during the times Seymour had been sick when he was younger. Loneliness is a driving force behind not screwing up as a parent. He couldn't help but glare a little. After all, he had just recently come to rejoice in the idea that no one could ever take his mother away from him, and that they'd go on living together all along forever--much as a little boy would in his situation. And now, suddenly, there was someone else, and Anima had completely abandoned their game of hide-and-seek for this new stranger. He couldn't quite hate her however, because he'd only heard of other people existing in stories, and as much as he liked to believe that no one else existed, and there was nothing beyond the fog… Well, little children are just vast expanses of imagination, and the idea of something you've never seen before is always interesting and sparks the flame of adventure and exploration. Still, he was jealous.

"Mother," he asked loudly, then whispering after Anima hushed him.

"She's asleep, Seymour. Quiet," she said as she shut the door behind her.

"But mother, what IS she?"

"Not what is she," she replied again, "Who is she." Seymour wasn't used to being corrected for his manners-- after all, to whom must he have had manners but his mother?

"Well, then, who is she?" They began to walk. Anima was intent on getting dinner ready so she could try to concoct some sort of medicine for the ailing body in the back room.

"She," she put emphasis on, "is an Al Bhed."

"An Al Bhed? Doesn't Yevon hate them? She looks so harmless and stupid." Anima rapped him on the wrist.

"Don't talk about other people like that, Seymour." It even felt strange for her to have to say that. She hadn't realized that she'd never taught him about respect to others before. A whole slew of social lessons he'd have to learn crash-course style. And she knew it'd be hard for him. He scowled at her reply. "Yevon doesn't hate them," she said with a sigh. "Simply, they break his laws. They use machina," she said like a teacher of sorts.

"Machina. You mean those mechanical weapons?"

"Not just weapons. Machina are things that we used to build before Sin was born. They did all of our work. They were bad, and we forgot how it was to take care of ourselves. Remember?"

Seymour looked pensive. "And then Sin came and destroyed all the machina, right?"

"Yes, but the Al Bhed still make them. We shouldn't be mean to them, though. And I really don't think that girl could have made any machina, she seems too young, and I'm sure--" Anima sort of began to blurt and speed her speech up, as if she thought she needed a hurried explanation to pacify any resentment her son might have had, but he interrupted her.

"Mother, why haven't we ever seen Sin before?" She stopped walking.

"I suppose… Because we're only us. Sin likes a lot of company, and there isn't anyone here gathered to attract Sin."

"Will that Al Bhed girl bring Sin with her?"

"Oh, heavens, Seymour. Enough questions for the night. Go along and get ready for supper."

"I should certainly hope not…"

--

She pulled her hood against her face. This was a stressful decision. Or, perhaps, on a different plane of importance, it wasn't at all. On a cosmic level, it was the difference between one tiny miniscule creature's taking 2 steps forward, 2 steps back, or none at all. Neither really affected where Spira would be 5 years from now. But on a personal level… It was the difference between ignorance and courage. Courage to face the facts and see for yourself what you really know to be true… Or ignorance to keep telling yourself that it couldn't be. Ignorance is bliss, right? Then again, just to see their face… even if it was just pyreflies responding to distant memories…

Maybe she should have gone to a site of a great killing… Or the moonflow. The pyreflies THERE could respond to distant memories. No, that's a complete cop-out. She had to do it. She had to. And ironically enough, the only thing that made her take that first step was the hope that maybe he wouldn't appear. Maybe none of them would.

So she walked into the farplane for the very first time. She was all alone; no one else was here at this time. She closed her eyes and held her breath and walked to the center of the platform where tourists are safely allowed. She squinted, exhaled, and forced her eyes to open. To her horror and dismay, each and every one of them appeared.

And he was standing. Right. In front of her.

--

Yuna walked out to the shore. The scenery in Besaid always made her feel so peaceful and welcome, and always filled her with memories of good friends and kindness. She'd made up her mind that the wedding HAD to be in Besaid temple, where she'd first become a summoner… the same temple she used to stare at every night and think about her father and his triumphs. Even though there was no more Fayth here, it still felt like Valefor was going to be there, a fast friend watching over her and her groom.

There was yet something sad and unsettling about this, however. She couldn't get that day in Bevelle out of her head. That kiss. That devious smile, the chilling words to defy everything she stood for. She'd searched for Tidus so long… She never gave up that he'd come back… And he did, though it is said that none return from the farplane.

In fact, she'd also been to the farplane herself, though not only in spirit, and seen before her very eyes proof that there are souls in there and not just fragmented pyreflies. She'd seen them, felt them, heard them speak and known it to be true.

She'd watched Jyscal try to escape. Certainly he wasn't a memory, but a soul with a purpose.

The scene haunted her. Was it possible? No. No, it was just a nightmare. She mustn't let such things bother her.