LIGHTNING

I'm trying to sleep now, and I can't. My body hurts in ways that, when I think I'm about to sleep, I snap to, finding Benjamin or Gilgamesh holding me, telling me I've been screaming and flailing. Gods, I don't know why. I don't cry on Gilgamesh's shoulder when he holds me, no, that's just the pain making my tear ducts irate, that's all. I don't feel sad any longer, or afraid. I just feel pain and anger.

We're nearly to The Sacred Nebula now. The Cids tried to persuade me to stay, first, tried to apologize, to talk to me. I punched Kramer so hard his nose bled. Then they didn't say anything at all. Oh, Gods, why am I even here? I just need to think for a minute. But I don't want to think about all this. So what DO I think about? I'll try and remember my motivation, my hope, my goal. That'll give me some drive, right?

You know what? I don't want to do this right now. I don't know how I feel about The Scholar any more. I mean, he was like a father to me, the man in the cloak who instructed me every step of the way. He helped me through the darkness. Long before Kain and I had hit our rut, he helped me over come weakness. And because of him, and his guidance, here I am, mightier than any other.

Proof of Omega was no object. No, but the sword itself is the proof. Now no one can lay claim to it but I. It's power is active, and I wield it. I wield it with the wisdom The Scholar taught me. He was the light which, not by burning force, but by soft glow, lead me through the dark times. And when She took him away from me, I woke up.

Cid Previa and I have met face to face so very few times. Was it just once? Raem's ravages on my memories have left this fact a bit fuzzy. But The Scholar helped me step by step. His instructions from afar exposed the rank and decay in Heaven to me. He opened my eyes, and showed me the sins of The Gods. He taught me, also, my own inner might. He gave me Omega, and put destiny in my hands. I owe him nothing but my thanks.

The man has done more for me in my death, than any other angel, spirit, demon or God. He was beyond reproach to me. Just thinking of him sent happiness run through me. He comforted me in a moment of absolute despair, and gave me that one light that can never be extinguished: Hope. He taught me to spread it, from person to person, until all could hope for a better tomorrow.

When I began, that was the goal. Free The Scholar and give hope to all those who I encountered. I was going to be the greatest hero Heaven had ever known. Even when The Day of Cid occurred, my goals remained unaltered. Obsidian had given me the resources to begin my quest, and Cosmos had provided the catalyst. All I needed was this. This was that to which I aspired. This was the beginning of my journey. In the end, I had yearned for these days.

After a while, I began to research this man, and I discovered that this man, to whom I was protégé, was a myth and legend in Heaven and Hell. An elite who could go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Not even The Highest bothered with him. His charisma impelled him always forward, from God to God, and his track record was nearly perfect as a planner of Dissidiae. No one could touch him. Many had sent after him after being defeated by the perfect wars he planned. Not a one succeeded. I became awed by this man no one could manipulate, use, or push around. He was free of fear, and The Gods couldn't order him to do anything he didn't want to.

I craved that. I lusted for it. I needed it. I needed to be that. I sought in the beginning to emulate him, to follow his teachings. I suppose I was a bit naïve, but my enthusiasm won the respect of Obsidian, and I quickly surpassed the others he called upon to fulfill little missions here and there for him. I was a star in the organization, and I used my prowess to cultivate chances of rising higher in his sights. His favor was my drive, my reason, my need.

I was having a torrid affair with the entire concept of Obsidian, loving every moment of it, and reveling more than just a little in doing things I wasn't supposed to. It filled my chest with a fire beyond description, the knowledge that I was subverting this or that vile scheme of The Gods, who hoped to prey on their defenseless, powerless angelic subjects. I was a hero. I was the good guy. It felt wonderful.

None of that matters now, though. No, now it isn't worth the spit of a cactuar in a rainfall. Because I've lost my motivation for action. I've thrown away the justifications, dreams, and moralizations. I have forgotten the rationalization, and the reason. Logic I have surrendered to my one remaining urge, my singular protective feature.

No more do I dream of a better Heaven and an end to Hell. I don't care about usurping the tyranny of The Gods, and I don't have the time to think anything through. Maybe I'm just running away from the thoughts that would otherwise weaken me, but I have one, and one purpose left me now.

To destroy. I will put this to an end. I will stop this all. When I am done, there will be peace. The wars will come crashing down, and at last, whatever remains, will be forced to lay down its arms and submit to peace. I will burn down every city, overturn every castle, slaughter every angel and mangle every God who stands between me and Cid Lufaine. I will set right what He has let go wrong. And at long last, justice will be given.

Do I care what befalls everyone else? Not really. They never cared what would befall me. So I will bring down Cid and Cosmos' world, and I will do it with the most glorious and magnificent crash I can. I used to care. I can't deny that. For whatever reason, I believed The Scholar, let him sweep me off my feet and carry me this far. That I must have felt something akin to "love" for him I don't refute. Love being a memory to me, merely something which my mind recalls, but, if asked to, I could never explain to you. I doubt I'm capable of feeling it any longer.

Ha! Listen to this tripe. Waah, I can't feel love. Seriously? What crap. This is why Heaven hunts me. Even I can't stand how abhorrently pathetic I get when I start thinking. Thinking is for the weak. It allows for too much doubt, and in the end, that undoes us all. So I don't care about love, hate, or anything in between. I'm no poet, dammit, and I never have been. I'm a killer, that's all I ever was to them. Among The Cids, only The Scholar ever saw me as more. Since he's left they've had me as their hitwoman, offing this and that enemy in their way.

Well fuck that. If they want to take over, let them, but the minute they come near me, I will rip them apart. I will never forgive what they did to Firion and Terra. Not that I knew or liked either of them, but Terra's concern for her children has left me . . . unnerved. It reminds me of how I felt when I held Benjamin that night. It reminds me of what Gilgamesh said the night he told me he was the traitor. I, I don't know. Gilgamesh tried to warn me that The Cids would betray me, but I don't know about them, either. I'm sure I've overreacted, but I don't much care at this point.

So let's talk then, huh? Men, for me, have been nothing but failures one after another. Far as I can recall, no man has ever done me right. And I'm not particularly interested in women, so yeah. And that's even beyond sex. Outside my sister and a select few others, can't say I know any woman I really liked. Hell, come to think of it, this universe has been needing to end for far too long. Maybe I'm just willfully ignoring the good in others, though. Who, then. Who have I ever met that was beyond my ability to reproach? And I don't honestly give a damn if I've the right to judge or not. I'm me. I'll judge all Heaven if I want.

Come to think of it, there is one man. One whose name I can almost recall. His face stands clear before me. Blond hair, dark eyes, pale skin, smiling mouth. Who is he? So vague, and yet . . . he was someone who sacrificed himself . . . that others might live. Yet his sacrifice, I feel as though I failed it. A man who gave his everlasting life that others might keep their own. Who, who is this man? He flits in and out at the edges of my consciousness. So pure, and kind, but our meeting was so brief. I felt as though I'd known him all eternity, and yet . . . something bars me from remembering more. I can almost see him clearly, standing against a background of pure, unadulterated light, and then the light consumes him.

I feel so close to him, but I know he can't be any one more than an acquaintance at best. Someone I've met, and yet I don't know intimately. And yet, despite this close relationship, I feel as though he and I have shared something very, very important . . . how, well, odd . . . I can't shake the feeling that something awful befell him.

I can see it clearer, now. The man, he isn't standing in light, he's standing in fire. And he's telling me to save his people, the ones he's dying for now. And a monster is above him, breathing the flames down as people scream and cry. And the one, true, good man is vaporized by the beast, and there isn't anything I can do to help him.

And then I'm in Benjamin's arms, crying. I've been screaming again, and my body is covered in a cold sweat. Benjamin holds me with a strength that seems to secure the world. I don't know how I wound up here, in his arms, don't know at all. My face is hot and wet, but the rest of my body is clammy, and I can't help but feel that I'm missing my strength.

Eventually my body stops convulsing, and Benjamin lays me back down on the ground. My breathing goes back to normal, and he walks off a distance. I can hear him muttering something to the others. I have to listen with all my mind to hear what they're saying.

"That's the fourth time tonight," Arazlam says, "I'm beginning to worry about her."

"I don't like this. She's been bad since Memoria, but Journey's End has done a number on her," Benjamin whispers, "I'm scared."

"Ha! She's stronger than you think," Cuore says, "She's just having trouble adjusting to The Proof of Omega, that's all. You saw how the power made her flip out on The Cids. She normally wouldn't ever do that. The Cids assured us of that, didn't they?"

"Ah, yes," Gilgamesh says, "That stuff they said while she was fighting Omega?"

"Yeah. They explained this all to us. She'll sort out by the time we reach The Sacred Nebula."

"Do you put so much faith in them?" Gilgamesh asks, "She certainly didn't seem to when she was done."

"That was just Proof of Omega talking," Arazlam cuts in, "The Cids have been her benefactors, caretakers, and fathers since the beginning. She'd never betray them. I mean, why come this far, continuing toward freeing The Scholar, if she were to renounce her ties to them?"

"Unless, of course, she's abandoned reason, and Omega's might has driven her to continue its directive," Gilgamesh says.

"No," Benjamin says, "I don't believe that. Sure, Omega chose her form for its final form, but I don't believe that she's been driven mad by Omega. Somewhere in there, she's better than all this. Everybody says that light casts shadows, but no one ever remembers that the shadows never fully consume the stars."

"Aww, waxing poetic? Benny, honey, this is the real world, things aren't so simple here. The bad guys win more often than not."

"There is the possibility that Omega has broken her psyche. In which case we must be prepared for the worst."

"Talking about betraying her, Arazlam?" Gilgamesh asks.

"No, not at all. We must prepare for the worst now, not when it is come too late. We need to be careful of her psyche at all costs. One false move could send her over. We need take care of her, not prepare to slaughter her. Honestly, Gilgamesh, I'm appalled that you would think-"

"Okay, okay, I get you. But something's still wrong here. The whole situation seems sketchy to me. We're heading to The Sacred Nebula. Chaos' army and The Judges and Confessors are still locked in war there, and The Cids say the big man Himself'll be there. I don't like it. We should just cut our losses and run."

"You WOULD say that, wouldn't you?" Cuore snorts, "I'm no coward. If she wants to see this through, I'm with her. High time someone stuck it to Cosmos' ass, if you ask me."

"We're doing this to free Heaven for everyone," Benjamin says, his voice wavering slightly, "That has been the goal the whole time. That was The Scholar's vision. That's Final Heaven."

"Ah, so you have been paying attention, huh, kid?"

"Yes, I have."

"You know, then?"

"No, but I understand more than you."

"Speaking of this cryptic shit," Cuore interrupts, "what did Terra mean when she asked you that. And what the HELL are you talking about Benjamin?"

"Terra? Oh, she wanted to know if I knew what Lightning looked like naked. Not yet, but someday. What do you mean, Benjamin?"

"You mean what did he mean when he asked me, right, or are you so quickly distracted?"

"Fine, explain this then, Gilgamesh."

"Same thing Terra asked. Kid doesn't know what the hot-ass looks like in the buff either, but apparently he thinks he's seen more than me. Interesting."

"I find this hard to believe," Arazlam chimes in. "I rather suspect one of you at the least is talking in code."

They go on and on like this for awhile, but eventually I can't maintain focus any longer, and I find myself sinking back within myself once more. Not much choice, right? I feel at once so powerful and so weak. Like I'm a bubble, just waiting to burst and destroy. How . . . odd. And I hate having to observe things about myself. I'm sick of feeling, but I cling to it for some stupid reason beyond my ability to understand, rather than simply succumbing to the numbing embrace of Omega's urge.

I wish, before fully submitting myself to the dim depths of sleep, that things could have been different. I shouldn't have gone off on the Cids like that. I shouldn't reject Gilgamesh's advances so much. I shouldn't have ever signed up for this quest. I shouldn't have abandoned the blonde man's people to the flames. I shouldn't have overreacted about Kain's outburst. I should never have left my husband. I shouldn't have this or that.

But you know what? I'll burn everything to the ground, and at last I realize why. My last thought before passing out completely etches itself into my mind so perfectly that the reason, solution, and answer is all I will ever need to justify my actions. There is only one word which describes why I'm doing this. One concept that accurately explains my feelings about what will come next. Only one person to whom I can attribute my coming success. One reason, and one alone rules my final thoughts tonight:

ROSA.