Chapter 16: Seeds of Vengeance
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" Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged." - Joseph Joubert
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So, what, exactly was I doing, shuffling my way stealthily towards a large, floating, and boarding merchant's airship in the dead of the night? I honestly couldn't answer that question. But, I was there, and I was on a mission. Sure, it was a very poorly organized mission and I had little to no support...okay, I had -no- support. This was wholly my decision, even if I didn't know my reasons for doing it.
I suppose you could say that Tidus' return had something to do with it. I'm not an attention hog and I wasn't jealous of his happiness with Yuna...but this wasn't, in my eyes, the time to be happy. This was the time to get things done, and since Yuna and her "posse" seemed so inclined to just drop the fact that we were in a conflict that could very well last for years, I decided to take it upon myself to take the reins. And if I had to sneak into an occupied city, I would.
As I neared the docks, I began to actually feel the wind wrapping around and squeezing the energy from me. One bad thing about Besaid's weather was that during the day, you'd melt, and at night, you'd freeze. Thanks to the wind, the freezing factor was doubled, and here I was, wearing an all black get up given to me by none other than Lulu. Claimed she had made it for Chappu years ago. I was inclined to believe her since my wide shoulders had required her to quickly alter the hell out of the outfit's upper half. No, this wasn't a "sneaking suit." This was a thin, tight, and uncomfortable shirt and stocking combo. The only part of this entire outfit that was remotely comfortable was the footwear, which consisted of thin socks and my own combat boots.
Another thing about this mission that totally bummed me: no weapons save a small dagger given to me by Gatta.
"Good luck," he had said upon my leaving his office.
Good luck indeed, asshole. I looked like a "Lost Boy" of Peter Pan fame, complete with knife and stockings! I'd have to procure some clothes upon my arrival in Luca. Stealing them didn't really bother me. What bothered me was choosing the right clothes. The inhabitants would clue me in, but I was still afraid of not being able to blend in. Say I picked some clothes from the Lucan equivalent of a Salvation Army Post and walked around dressed like a clown. That'd be like a kid in Brooklyn dressing in bright pink and donning a sign that read, "Fuck New York!"
Upon reaching the wooden planks of the air ship's dock, I slowly inched along the side of the vessel. My eyes and ears were darting, focusing, refocusing, and flitting. No real guard was viewable, just that same overweight merchant handing one of his subordinates some boxes one at a time. I found some cover behind a stray box and prayed that this wasn't on their list of cargo. The minutes ticked by, my eyes following the movement of box after box being loaded into the ship's hold. Eventually, the merchant walked into the hold himself and I didn't see him again. The box I was behind wasn't needed, but that wouldn't help me. I'd have to make it into the hold without him or any of his workers seeing me.
Gatta had told me that stealth wasn't an issue in this endeavor, but seeing as we hadn't really asked the merchant permission and I had no way of "persuading" him to cooperate, I decided to lay low and out of sight. This also worsened the consequences if I -was- caught on the ship, but even if I had to knock everyone but the pilots out, I'd find a way to keep my cover.
I peeked my head over the box and noticed no one near the hold's bay doors, so I hunched on over and peered in. Not a soul in sight. I found a comfortable spot behind a wall of boxes and waited. It was all over except the waiting...and the eventual infiltration and recon thing. That'd come later, thankfully.
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With a groan, Fagan awoke to an empty bed.
"Not surprising," he thought to himself.
Elaine had not as much as said a word to him lately and he knew exactly why, but he wasn't going to move any ground for in his head, he hadn't done anything wrong. He also knew that Nyka had put some sort of ideas in her head that had upset her even more. Elaine's diehard support for the struggling religion was beautiful, but lately, it was tearing him from the love of his life. A few months ago, this wasn't an issue, for the two had romantically shared their love for each other, and Yevon. Yet, to Elaine, Yevon was everything, and to Fagan, Yevon was the deity he put his trust in. How could she love Fagan if she already loved someone? Yevon owned a larger part of her heart than Fagan did, and he knew that somewhere, somehow, that was wrong, in some form or fashion.
Yevon was dead. This, Fagan knew. Yet he would never let go of the one thing that had always been constant in his life. Yevon had kept him from the deadly hands of Sin, and the deadly hands of ill-devoted life. But then, Elaine had come along, and she became his devotion.
And now, it was crumbling beneath his fingertips and he couldn't stop it. Nyka, he knew, had some hand in it. If there was no Yevon, as most of Spira had come to realize since the defeat of Sin, then who else could be responsible? He'd find out, and tonight.
Fagan slumped out of bed, quickly dressed, and bounded out of the door. His eyes met the temple and never left it as he hurriedly made his way towards the tall, castle-like capital of Bevelle.
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Yeah, so waiting wasn't for me. I admit it. Being stuck in that hold was hell. A utter and complete hell that was worsened by the fact that every thirty or so minutes, that fat merchant would come down and eat some of his cargo.
He was -eating- the stuff he would be selling later today. That makes about as much sense as me in a tutu. I would've knocked the hell out of him...but I wasn't going to risk my cover just to give him one for.
The scene reminded me of one I had witnessed in school. I was volunteering for a fund raiser -my only reason being that the girl I had had a crush on for ages was going to be working on it too- and witnessed the teacher eating the doughnuts we were about to be selling. I even confronted the teacher about it, but was 'voted off' the fundraiser. After that, I decided to skip out on anything school related. I didn't want to be apart of a situation where the shit could hit the fan and the teacher would end up blaming the kids.
School for me was something that I tolerated. I was one of the kids who always sat in the back of class, kept to himself, and was always writing poetry. And I only wrote to release pent up feelings. Didn't really have anyone to release to. I wasn't a dance type either. I guess I never saw the appeal in gathering in a hot, stinky gym in formal wear and standing or shuffling around. Then came college...where I was essentially doing the same thing. The only difference there was I was reporting back to barracks instead of a dorm when I was done with classes.
I yawned and leaned back against the wall behind me. Soon, I found myself slowly drifting to sleep. Not the wisest choice for an infiltrating soldier, but hey, I figured the merchant would be too busy stuffing his face to worry about intruders.
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Fagan made his way up the long steps to the fifth-storey office Nyka inhabited. The stone staircase itself was adorned with thick, red carpeting, and the obligatory vine-like banister decorations. Such a wonderfully rich palace for a humble religion, Fagan thought.
Upon reaching the foyer, two machina-armed guards stopped him and asked his business. Fagan only replied, "To see Nyka."
"Nyka's busy," one stressed.
The other hunched his shoulders forward and shifted his gun, trying to show Fagan that he should back away. This only made Fagan angrier and he said firmly, "I want to see Nyka."
"Look, sir. Nyka's busy. He's not ready to see anyone."
Fagan growled. "Oh, so you have to have an appointment to see a priest now?"
The two men looked to each other and started to advance on Fagan. Thanks to his small frame and quick movements, he squeezed through the men and violently opened the double-doors leading into Nyka's office.
Due to his already angered state, Fagan didn't even see Nyka before yelling, "Nyka, I've got to talk to you."
Hearing no intelligible answer, he yelled again. As his anger calmed to a dull curiosity, he finally focused his eyes on the center of the room. What he saw enraged him, and he immediately dove for the naked, bent form belonging to Nyka. Instead of making contact with the Maester, he hit the floor and startled the woman he had fallen next too. And he knew who the woman was, but his brain and heart failed to recognize her.
Nyka's voice, which was now altered a bit, yelled out for the guards, who immediately came rushing in. They ignored the scene in front of them and looked to Nyka for orders.
A stunned Fagan tried to stand, but, after a nod from Nyka, was hit in the forehead by the butt of one of the guard's rifles. The woman next to him screamed loudly, and with his skull feeling as if it's been cracked, Fagan's brain finally recognized the woman as his wife.
Nyka's tone bit into the air and ruthless orders were given. Fagan couldn't really make out the words, for the ringing in his ears was drowning out all but a little bit of sound. His eyes were riddled with a fuzzy form of double vision. Once again, he tried to push himself up, but only felt a punch connecting with his thigh. The leg was now totally useless, save for causing Fagan an unimaginable amount of pain. A hand reached down to rub the sore spot, only to become covered in a warm liquid. It was then Fagan knew he'd been shot by the machina.
Fagan's other leg tried to curl, it's foot coming flat against the floor, and all the while he grunted and groaned from the effort. Just as the leg started to get a little bit of leverage, another punching sensation hit Fagan just below the knee. Except this sensation was much more painful. The bullet had shattered most of the bone and cartilage that resided in his knee. Fagan growled and lay back, feeling his head hit the floor underneath him.
Somehow, this seemed a fitting end to a botched journey. Fagan had always thought it would be his religion that would kill him. It had all begun with his wife and blossomed into this, his final moments. His vision was slowly blacking out and he could scarcely hear anything. Death was fast approaching as his back became soaked with the blood pouring from his wounds. With a last bit of strength, he grabbed his wife's hand and squeezed. Their eyes met in a gaze of both shock and unending love.
Every single event they had ever been through, from their first meeting in school to their wedding, flashed in their collective view. In this, their final moment, they were sharing messages of everlasting love and eternal life on the Farplane. But, Fagan knew better. The Farplane was a place of torment. That alone was the reason some spirits turned into 'fiends.' Those spirits simply did not want to go to a place where the only solace you are offered is a bird's eye view of a society you can never return to.
Now, Fagan knew why so many desperately avoided the Farplane and instead wandered Spira as unsent beings. He knew the exact reason: unfinished business. Be it saying goodbye to loved ones, or seeking revenge, the reason was still the same. The spirit wasn't finished on Spira, and wouldn't accept their place in the Farplane until they were through. Despite the comforting and loving gaze he was sharing with his wife, he knew that he wouldn't be with her when she arrived in the Farplane.
Fagan, however, wasn't going to just seek revenge. No, Fagan's mission, he determined as he faintly heard Nyka bark the final orders to his guards, was going to be one of vengeance. This was going to be a mission that would avenge every single crime committed by Nyka and his underlings and a mission that would extend beyond the war and beyond the grave.
With a quick turn of his head, Fagan caught a final glimpse of the leader known as 'Nyka.' The aging bearded man was behind his desk, cackling at the scene playing out before him. It was then that Fagan got a glimpse of the 'real' Nyka. Fagan chalked it up to his mind's state, but he secretly knew what he had seen was true. And the fact that no one, not even Nyka's aide, knew of the leader's past solidified his vision. Nyka had appeared shortly after the defeat of Sin as a full supporter of Yevon. Nyka led the movement to start the "New Yevon" group and forwarded money to the Youth Alliance and Young People's Group, concreting the two teen groups' support of the New Yevon faction. Nyka had moved like a plague through Bevelle and quickly climbed the ladder of power. Fagan had always been curious over the leader's history, but at that single glance, he was all knowing on the history of the man known only as 'Nyka,' and it fueled his anger that much more.
Fagan's eyes returned to his wife's and he squeezed her hand for the last time. With a whispered 'I love you,' two loud bangs, and two bright flashes, two young lives were ended by the very same religion they had grown up loving.
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I hadn't a clue what time it was. The hold didn't have any portholes in it; therefore, I couldn't really tell if it was day or night. My hands balled into fists and I rubbed the sleep from my eyes while my brain continued to try to make sense of the disorientation a nap brought on.
Slowly, I stood, hearing my leg and back joints popping like wildfire. I had to have been there for more than just a few minutes. I reached towards the ceiling and yawned. Even after...however long I had been in this hold, I hadn't a clue why exactly I was doing this. This wasn't a war that I -had- to be in. This wasn't a conflict where I was being forced to go somewhere. Luca wasn't Columbia. I didn't have seven other guys looking out for me and I didn't have instant air support. As a matter of fact, I didn't even have any frigging weapons. All I had was a gay little 'dagger' and the black, uncomfortable as hell tights. It wasn't like I was going into a situation where I had the advantage. This 'mission' was more or less a kid sticking his head under a lawnmower. I'd either die trying, or, if I got extremely lucky, make it out alive. But my hopes weren't high. What can one man do against an army? Not much.
I had learned a long time ago that life wasn't like a computer game. There was no continues, no health bars, no endless supply of bullets, and no save points for me to utilize. All I could rely on was my training and stamina. Knowing that made it an even harder mission. Physiologically, I was looking at a real nightmare. Physically, I was looking at pure torture. Emotionally I was looking at...a damn fun time. I wasn't afraid to admit that dangerous situations excited me. That was all apart of being a soldier. If you couldn't crack a joke while bullets were whizzing by your head, you wouldn't make it in -any- military force. Sick, yes, but very plausible and very effective. If you take the fear out of war, you take the fear out of the man, and more bodies are dropped, leading to more ground gained. Desensitization, therefore, is an important tool in training troops.
And there I was, standing behind some cargo, trying to desensitize myself from the boredom of having to wait for the damned ship to make it to Luca. Thankfully, the airship creaked and groaned as it seemed to begin its descent. It was only a few minutes later when people started filling the hold, boxes started moving, and I started to get a tad bit nervous.
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Eimour awoke to the prodding fingers of her son.
"You're gonna be late, mommy," young Gary said.
Eimour slowly sat up in bed and looked towards the clock just above her mirror. Through her newly awoken daze, she could scarcely make out the time. But she did get the gist of what her son had told her. Quickly, she scampered off to her small dresser, pulled out a skirt and blouse, changed and was out of the door with Gary in her arms. She surely didn't want to be late for her first full day of work, but she was having her doubts as she pushed through the double doors and met the dark haze of early morning.
The owner of the pub had told her that working early morning to afternoon would be a better shift to work, as long as she didn't mind tending to the Yevonites. Of course, Eimour would work whenever he told her to. The job was going to pay well and she'd do just about anything to keep it.
Her feet found the sidewalk and she bounded towards the pub. Now, while Eimour usually practiced good common sense and was quite smart, she reflexively tried to open the pub's locked front double doors. She caught on quickly, though, and darted down the alleyway between the inn and pub, finding the kitchen entrance. After a few knocks, the owner of the pub opened the door and greeted them with a smile.
"Morning," Eimour said, returning the older man's smile.
The owner nodded, keeping his smile, and motioned toward Gary. "I'll take him on a tour of the place while you get ready back here."
Eimour smiled and nodded, setting Gary down. The owner took Gary's hand and led him off to the front of the pub. Eimour quickly donned her apron and came around to the front of the bar, watching the old man show her son every nook and cranny of the seating area. She closed her eyes and smiled and dreamt, despite herself, that the owner was her father and he was giving his grandson an important lesson.
The knowledge that Gary would more than likely grow up without any male figurehead in his life ate away at Eimour's soul like a plague. Even with her hatred towards men, she couldn't help but long for one, if only to give Gary the other half of the parenting equation.
Eimour's smile quickly faded at the thought of her son never having a father figure. With a sigh, she pressed herself off of the bar and met the owner and Gary on their way back behind the bar.
"Mighty fine lad you've got here, dear," the owner complimented.
Eimour's smile returned as she took Gary's hand. "Yes he is."
Gary turned a shade of red and urged his mother towards the kitchen.
The owner laughed. "As long as he doesn't drink any of the ale, he can do as he pleases."
With that, Eimour released her son's hand and the young child bounded off for the kitchen to more than likely sample some of what the cook was preparing. The older man nodded to the doors and said, "We're open now. All you have to do is take orders and bring orders. And since most of the morning crowd is soldiers and businessmen, the most common order will be ale and more ale. Some may order some of our famous dumplings; others may order some nuts, while others may just order some water. Either way, this shouldn't be too hard on you. If you're swamped, just call me from my office and I'll come running, ok?"
Eimour nodded and looked to the doors just in time to see the first customers of the day trudge in.
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Tidus shot up in his bed, covers flying off of him as he gasped from breath. Sweat rivulets covered his entire body, his hair clung to his face, and he quickly removed his soaked t-shirt. His mind raced to make sense of the nightmare he had just escaped. Tidus' memory could only recall bits and pieces of the dream, and those bits and pieces were more or less the worst parts. The images of two lovers, lying on the ground, bleeding, with bullet holes in their heads were burnt in his vision and he couldn't shake them away. A deep and lasting sadness came over him as he focused on the scene. It was when he saw their hands intertwined that fear struck him. A fit of trembles hit him as his mind subconsciously placed Yuna and him in the two lovers' place.
For the life of him, Tidus couldn't understand why he was having visions of total strangers. He did seem to get a message out of them though and quietly removed himself from his bed. Hunching forward, he slinked his way onto Besaid's main path, using the merchants' carts for cover. Tidus imagined that if anyone found him sneaking around outside, he'd have a bit of explaining to do. Slowly but surely, he made his way to Besaid Temple's entrance hall. Not a soul was in sight, and that eased Tidus' mind just a tad bit. Silently he tiptoed across the entrance hall's slick floor and soon found himself in front of a thick, wooden door. The only worry crossing his mind as he eased the door open was if he had the correct room or not. His question was answered as he gazed upon Yuna's sleeping form.
Tidus stood in the doorway for quite some time, just staring at the woman he loved as she slept. It was amazing to him how she was always beautiful, even lying in bed, sans makeup. True love had found him, and he was beginning to understand what happened to his mother after his father was gone. He imagined the same thing happened to Yuna, in a way. Of course, she'd never own up to it in front of him. A bit of life had left both of them when they parted, and what made it so bittersweet was the fact that neither of them could be honest enough to tell the other that they had lost hope.
Yuna lay on her back, her face bathed in the iridescent light of a descending moon. Her silken brown hair was a shade or two brighter in the moonlight, and Tidus smiled upon making that observation. He bent forward and softly brushed a few locks from her face with a smile, his lower half softly coming to rest on the empty side of the bed. His eyes gazed at her peaceful countenance as his hand continued to stroke her hair. Tidus' thoughts reverted to his first romantic contact with the former Summoner. Macalania seemed years ago, and in truth it was, but it didn't feel like three to Tidus. To him, it felt close to fifty or more.
After a few minutes, Tidus sighed and eased up, but to his surprise, a soft and tiny hand gripped his elbow.
"Don't go," said Yuna in a surprisingly sober tone.
Tidus turned and met with his lover's gaze. "Er...sorry...didn't know you were awake."
She smiled dreamily at him and lightly scratched along his lower arm. "It's ok. I didn't know that I'd wake up to such a comforting feeling."
Tidus blushed, causing a soft chuckle to escape her.
"May I ask why you don't have a shirt on?" she asked with a slightly mischievous smirk.
Again, he blushed and looked down. "I had a nightmare."
She scooted forward and put her hands on his hips, pulling him down into an embrace. He shifted slightly to get comfortable, on arm going around her shoulders, the other extending so that his hand could grasp one of her own. She squeezed his hand gently.
"I'm sorry."
He cocked a smile and placed a kiss on the bridge of her nose. "Don't be sorry for something you didn't do. It...it just scared me. I had to come here and make sure that you were here. Ya know, that you were real and able to be touched."
She sighed softly. "Your time away must've been horrible."
He put a fingertip to her lips and placed his forehead against her own. "Shh, let's not talk about that. I don't want you worrying over the past. I stood and watched you sleep for a while, Yuna, and while I did, I thought of how the two of us would never tell each other the truth of what we felt while we were separated."
"I'd tell you anything," she affirmed.
He shook is head. "You don't have to tell me, because I already know. And I'd tell you anything too...it's just that I can't admit to you that...I was weak. I...lost...I lost hope over time, Yuna, and it makes me feel so damned ashamed."
One of her palms rose and softly stroked his cheek. "Tidus...don't...The truth is...I lost hope too. I just couldn't convince myself that you'd come back. No matter how much I wanted you to...I just couldn't see it happening."
"I don't know how it happened, but it did, and that's all that matters, right?"
She nodded meekly in response.
He wrapped his arms tight around her shoulders and rested his cheek into her hair. She smiled and nuzzled into the nape of his neck.
"I'm just so glad I have you back," she said as Tidus felt a tear come into contact with his collarbone.
In response, he brought up a hand and gently stroked the back of her head, humming softly to her a tune that had connected them so long ago.
"The Hymn of the Fayth," she recalled aloud. "It's been so long..."
He continued the hum as she listened intently, her cheek resting against his shoulder. Soon, she felt as if she was going to fall asleep. Tidus seemed to sense this and ended his hum. Yuna shifted slightly and lightly kissed his chin.
Tidus smiled and returned the kiss to her forehead. "Yuna?"
"Yes," she replied, her voice thick with content.
"Do you think...possibly...that my coming back may have something to do with what Spira's going through?"
Yuna stayed silent for a moment, as if she was thinking about his question for the very first time. "I honestly...don't know. I've not had that much time to really think about it." She locked her eyes to his own and added with a smile, "It may have something to do with a lonely girl wishing and wishing every day that the love of her life would return."
He returned the smile and planted a feather-like kiss to her lips. "It may have also had something to do with a lonely boy wishing and wishing every day that he could return to the girl of his dreams ASAP."
With that, he planted another kiss to her lips. The two lovers sat in silence a moment, listening to one another's heartbeat as time ticked by. Not a worry was on their minds as they sat on the bed in an infallible embrace. Nothing was going to separate them, ever. Tidus had returned and planned on staying. But something was eating away at him, and he couldn't keep it silent any longer.
"Yuna...?"
She answered with a soft 'mmhmm?' that he felt more in his chest than actually heard.
"Is anyone going to clue me in on all that's happened with this 'war' everyone's talking about?"
As soon as his question had left his throat, Tidus could feel his love sigh silently. After a moment or two she answered.
"I honestly didn't want to worry you about it-"
"Yuna...I already worry about it. If it bothers you, it bothers me."
She nodded, understanding that feeling very well. "Well...I suppose Gatta could fill you in. He's seen the most combat...besides Weston."
"Speaking of Weston...what's his story? I couldn't gather much in the tent yesterday."
Yuna looked ahead as if trying to recall some long lost piece of information. "It's been so long, I've nearly forgotten that he's not from this world..."
Tidus laughed and rubbed his nose against hers. "I could tell that just by looking at him. I mean, has he said much about his past? How he got here?"
Yuna thought for a moment. "Not really...at least not to me. Gatta probably knows more about him than anyone. They seem to be good friends."
"Soldiers in arms together, stick together," Tidus observed. "Looks like Gatta and I are going to be having a long talk today."
Yuna nodded and snuggled into his chest. He wrapped his arms a bit tighter around her waist, planting soft kisses into her hair.
He smirked and said aloud, "Think I should make a habit out of this?"
She let out a laugh and tapped the tip of his nose. "I don't know. You sneaking into my room shirtless will eventually get around the village, and you know how things get blown up in small communities."
He smirked and ruffled her hair. "Actually, I don't. I was the one who lived in Zanarkand, remember?"
With that, he cackled and she lightly punched his stomach in response to the sarcasm.
"You know what I mean," she said after grabbing a pillow and bopping him with it.
"Oh, this means war!" he exclaimed and grabbed one of her other pillows. Soon, the feathers were flying and the two lovers were laughing quite loudly as they chased each other around the room.
Tidus had never thought that happiness could come in the form of such a childish activity, but honestly, he had never been happier in his life. And what really made him look to the future with a smile was that despite the fact that while both of them were three years older, wiser, and more responsible, they could still have a fun time. The one thing Tidus hated was stiff, overly mature young people who thought that the fun things in life stopped after the teen years were gone.
With one last bonk in the head by way of Yuna's pillow, Tidus collapsed on the bed, laughing and gasping for breath. Yuna fell beside her love, doing the very same. And the two lovers stayed there for a little while, letting the giggles run dry and their chests' movements slow. When they had both caught their breath, Tidus turned to Yuna and whispered, "I love you."
With a warm smile, Yuna replied with, "I love you, too."
And they both meant it with all they were worth.
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Running is always fun. Especially when you've got three rather large dockworkers chasing after you through a crowded marketplace. So, yeah, I was discovered. The look on the worker's face that discovered me was rather amusing. When I laughed, I think I caught him off guard, but I wasn't really sure, because I was running shortly after that. Luckily, I was able to find a clothing shop to duck into. Apparently, the shop's owner was out, so I was able to "procure" a gray, hooded cloak and some thin, baggy, and gray pants without any trouble. I emerged a new man. No longer was I a stowaway wearing black tights; I was now a guy in a cloak. Not a big change, but enough to keep those dockworkers off of my tail for a little while.
Sans pursuers, I then took the time to actually look around. The shop was adjacent to a large marketplace that opened up to the docks and the stadium. Yevonite guard posts were probably placed every hundred feet apart from each other. Ridiculous, really, but I could understand the Yevonites' fears. That'd just leave Gatta and I more soldiers to take care of, which we were very capable of doing.
I didn't really see much of a problem for getting Luca back, especially with the backing of the Al Bhed. The only problem I saw was all the civilians...they were sitting ducks. Be it Yevonite or Crusader fire, I knew a few of them were going to go down before it was all said and done.
I wondered if anyone in Yuna's little camp knew just what they were getting into with a 'liberation' mission. As evidenced in the best -and worst- campaigns in military history, civilian deaths become a big issue with many members of society, notably those who are against military action.
The market area soon materialized into a darker, more ancient looking business district. With eateries and general stores lining the streets and guard posts within shouting distance of each other, I could sense that this would be a tough fighting ground. The inns and hotels were probably full of soldiers waiting to snipe some Crusaders.
As I walked along, my mind absorbing anything and everything, I grew aware of an incessant nagging at the back of my throat. While many would just chalk this up to thirst, I immediately thought back to my high school prom, where I had had this exact same nagging.
I was never much of a romantic guy. Not that I couldn't be...romantic. It was just I never saw a need for it, especially in light of all the shitty relationships my fellow classmates were in. And I was never, ever a dance sort of guy. Standing around and watching the couples gyrate to shitty rap and disco songs wasn't my type of entertainment. I was more of the heavy metal guy who'd rather listen to a song that resembled the sounds of a chaotic and bloody war than some white guy with no rhythm talking quickly into a microphone. Seriously, the height of originality in rap music was "Money, hoes, and kickin' whitey's ass" being repeated dozens of times with intermittent grunts and hollers while some over-sampled and over-used beat played in the background. That couldn't possibly be classified as music. Anyone in their right mind would take the aural chaos that was Slayer over some mile-a-minute, monotonous, and bland and over-paid rap group. Yeah, so I was biased. Anyway, to put it bluntly, I was stuck, wearing a penguin suit, in a loud, hot gym. The nagging at the back of my throat then wasn't thirst, but my mild case of 'drink everything in sigh' syndrome. Needless to say, I woke up in a car on the side of the interstate with a killer headache.
My first, and last, binge of alcohol had left me with about as much dignity as given to a guy caught masturbating. But, when I got that nagging, I had to quickly feed that little monster in my throat some form of rotting liquid to keep it down. I wasn't about to get shit faced again, especially on a mission.
I sighted a large, one-storey building with a properly proportioned sign that simply read 'Pub.' A quick stop in there wouldn't jeopardize anything, or so I thought...
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The pub was quite busy, but somehow, Eimour was able to keep up. Most of the tables were taken up. The only empty areas were a couple of booths in the back. The pub was full of idle chatter, most of it coming from the mumbling mouths of Yevonite soldiers. A few "regulars" from the neighborhood had come in and commended on Eimour's friendly and speedy service. The owner of the pub knew each of these "regulars" by name and thanked each of them personally for their comments. The soldiers had been a little less appealing. Eimour couldn't count using her fingers how many times she had been goosed by the half-asleep or half-drunk soldiers. She picked up a trend on the men after about an hour or so of serving then: ale was obviously this army's weakness. For some reason, it was acceptable for the soldiers to drink (for many officers were drinking along side them) and it almost seemed to be the "in" thing to do. Eimour could sense a lot of peer pressure in the group, namely noticing young soldiers hesitating before taking a drink of the heavy liquid.
Eimour didn't really see the appeal of a man who drank. The smell alone could kill any attraction, never mind the drunken stupor most drinking men got into time after time. Social drinking seemed to her more of an addiction than activity. But a job was a job and if Eimour had to endure a few gooses from drunken soldiers, she would. Getting them drunk was more or less keeping them from being sharp and operational in the field.
While Eimour tried not to mind the soldiers, she couldn't help but be uncomfortable around them. Here were men being led by a tyrant hungry on world domination. 'How dense do you have to be to follow a madman,' she asked herself. Of course, Nyka hadn't kept a very strong noose on Luca, but just the idea that he "owned" Luca didn't help make Eimour any more comfortable around the soldiers. These were men who had the consent to kill anyone who opposed Nyka, be they man, woman, or child. These men, outside of their deplorable drinking habits, mercilessly killed many Lucans just for thinking differently. These weren't the men you invited into your home with a smile and a bit of tea. These were the men you cowered in fear from. And why Gary was running around the main room, Eimour didn't know.
Eimour looked on as her son ran around to each table, jumping and hollering at the soldiers. Some of them seemed amused by the young boy's energetic yelping while others seemed very annoyed.
Eimour rushed out to the table Gary was currently at and overheard a soldier belt out a "No." Now officially scared, she grabbed for Gary only to see him run off towards the front doors.
"Gary!" she yelled.
The three and a half foot young boy ran face first into the legs of a tall and wide cloaked individual. Gary was easily dwarfed by this cloaked person, who Eimour quickly surmised was male, or so she hoped.
The man stopped and looked down to Eimour's son. Eimour herself was both worried and fighting her motherly urge to rip the man's head clean off his shoulders. As fast and hyper as he could, Gary yelled, "Are you my daddy? Daddy's a soldier and he's supposed to come back to me and mommy!"
The tall figure only stood there a moment before slowly bending down. Eimour made a move towards the man, ready to pounce, but he only held Gary up high and laughed.
The man's voice was gruff, obviously used to yelling, or smoking, or both. Eimour was slightly taken aback.
"Nope. I'm not your daddy kid. Sorry." The man laughed again and set Gary down, ruffling the young boy's hair.
A still shocked Eimour blinked a few times, her mind utterly confused from the conclusion of what she thought would be a job-ending battle for her son's life. Instead the tall man just stood there, his cloaked head staring directly at her, as if waiting for something.
Finally, after catching her breath, Eimour timidly asked, "May I help you?"
"Do you have any beer," asked the gruff voice.
"Um...excuse me?"
"Beer," the voice repeated.
"I don't think so...We have ale and water...and dumplings."
A sigh escaped the cloak's hood and the man replied, "Water then...that ale stuff is way too heavy for me."
"Please have a seat," she said, motioning towards one of the open booths. Eimour then nodded and left for the bar, leaving him behind to find the seat.
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So there I sat, in a pub filled to the brim with Yevonite soldiers, the nagging in my throat getting even worse. I was hoping the water would curtail my inhuman thirst for at least a little while.
I turned my head and watched the kid from behind the security of my hood. Cute little guy, but I wondered where his mother was. Not a good place for a little bundle of joy to be in, really. Pubs harbor the backbone of underground society: drunkards, criminals, and politicians. But having these soldiers here was even worse. Soldiers under the influence aren't fun guys to be around. I should know...had a nice experience in Columbia with a shit-faced corporal who decided it'd be fun to open fire on a group of spec- ops boys. To this day, they probably haven't found all the pieces of him.
The dark-haired waitress returned with my water and sat it down in front of me. I reached into my newly acquired coat and pulled out a few Gil. She looked at me as if I was either insane, or an idiot. Either way, it wasn't a welcoming look.
"Is there a problem?" I asked as I laid down the money.
"You aren't trying to pay for this are you?" she asked accusingly.
"Water's free here?"
"Of course..." she replied, cocking an eyebrow.
I mumbled a bit and put the Gil away. I then took a sip of the water, and surprisingly, it was cool and refreshing. I wasn't used to clean and cold water that didn't come in some special bottle with a French name.
I started to think aloud. "Water like this costs quite a bit where I'm from."
"Where are you from?" she asked.
I knew I had set myself up for that one. Hurriedly, I cleared my throat and grunted, "Besaid."
"Ah," she said.
I sat there looking at her for the next few moments, trying to tell if she was either trying to recognize me, or trying to burn a hole through me with her laser vision. Then, I took a look behind the bar and saw an aging man looking towards my table. What was I, the star attraction at a zoo?
After a few more moments of awkward silence, I pulled the hood from over my head and cocked an eyebrow.
"Curious no longer?" I asked, trying my best not to sound annoyed or sarcastic.
She seemed to blink out of her little staring trance and looked my face over a few times. This, of course, made me uneasy and my instincts jumped into overdrive.
Finally, I asked in a not so pleasant voice, "This water will do. Thank you."
She got the message and left to tend to another table.
I downed the rest of my water in one quick shot and began to stand up. I stopped however, when my selective hearing picked out something I didn't quite like.
"Someone get this kid away from me. I'm about to shoot the bastard."
My eyes locked to a scene that I had known was coming. Much like during my goal in the Blitzball tournament, my body took over and everything blurred. Soon, the kid was in my arms and my legs were knocking over a Yevonite that had just aimed his rifle at the boy. The waitress came rushing forward and I handed the kid to her. Apparently, she was the mother, for as soon as she got him secure in her arms, she ran off to the back of the pub with the old guy I had noticed earlier. I felt like screaming 'Thanks for the support!'
And my one heroic act of the day left me surrounded by twenty or so pissed off Yevonites. I stood up and brushed myself off. The cloak was half- hanging off of my shoulders, so I just took it off, revealing the very odd- looking stocking-shirt combo. Probably not a good idea, but if I was going to be doing some hand-to-hand, I'd need some mobility.
What had always amused me about movies and video games was how the hero could be wearing a ten-ton jacket or trench coat and not have any limits on his physical ability. This was especially true in those good cop/bad cop movies. Freedom of movement was crucial in winning fights. Of course, that didn't matter much if there was twenty of them, and one of you.
I think I took my blows like a man. I didn't cry or yelp. Just took it like a good little trooper. Of course, my body didn't like me very much for allowing the soldiers to beat the living piss out of me. I remember connecting a few punches, but when the rifle-butts started flying, I was out for the count, if not more.
The last thing I remember before the darkness that is unconsciousness took over my mind was my nose making contact with the concrete sidewalk outside.
--------------------
Tidus walked along the waterfall path slowly, thanks to the red- haired lummox in front of him.
"Mind picking up the pace, Wakka?"
Wakka stopped and turned around. "S'not like that camp is goin' anywhere, bud."
"I know, but I'd like to be able to get back before -lunch-!"
"Hey, now. It's only seven in the mornin', ya?"
Tidus huffed a bit and nodded. "Yeah, yeah."
The two walked in silence for a little while, Wakka slowly leading while Tidus took in the growth of the village and its surrounding jungle. To Tidus, it was all new, as it would be with a newborn child. In away, Tidus thought to himself, he was newborn. He didn't want to label himself 'born-again' for that phrase had caused some trouble a few thousand years ago in Zanarkand. That huge time gap still got to him a little.
Tidus asked rather out of the blue, "What's your take on this war, Wakka?"
Wakka stopped walking, shrugged, and then continued his trek. "I dunno, really. Me an' Lu have been in our on world lately. Ya know how that is, right?"
Tidus laughed. "Of course, Wakka. I understand...what I meant was...how do you feel about it personally?"
Again, Wakka shrugged. "I hate that people are dyin', but if we have to kill to protect peace...I think it has to be done."
Tidus nodded to himself and said no more.
Soon, the two found themselves standing in a cleared out patch of jungle where a long and hastily built one-story building stood along with an obstacle course and what looked to be a training area. Uniformed Crusaders were standing around everywhere. Some looked to be mingling while others were obviously guards.
As they neared the door, Wakka nodded to the guards posted in front of it and they let the two pass. What surprised Tidus was how none of the soldiers seemed to really notice that he was there. Odd, seeing as Tidus had just recently returned from the dead.
Wakka opened the thin wooden door to the complex and entered a small reception area. Tidus followed in suit and looked the uniform area over. It wasn't the lodge he had known a few years ago. This building resembled a stiff doctor's office to Tidus. He shrugged and Wakka tapped on the desk in the center of the room. A receptionist in Crusader uniform came up from under the desk, hands full of some sort of wire material.
"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked.
Wakka nodded and pointed to a door in the back of the room. "Gatta in?"
"Yeah," came the blunt answer.
"Can we see him?"
"Yeah."
Wakka looked at the soldier with his head cocked as if waiting for the young man to do something. That something never came and while Wakka continued to simply stand there, Tidus snuck off into the room in the back. Gatta was standing in the back of the small office looking out of a rather big window. The window's viewing area was of the obstacle course and training ground. Tidus blinked a few times and looked about the room.
Gatta's office was sparsely decorated. The only medal visible was his induction medal presented to him years ago when he joined the Crusaders. There was no sign of rank or seniority. The desk was piled a mile high with paper work and there were balls of crumpled paper everywhere along one side of the room. A few maps could be jutting out from the pile on his desk along with some pin-markers and pencils.
Tidus cleared his throat and Gatta turned around. Yet again, Tidus was surprised at how everyone, including Gatta, took his reappearance as if it were natural.
"Yes," replied a slightly older and weary looking Gatta.
"I've come to talk to you about-"
"The war, yes," Gatta interrupted. He held up a rectangular device that looked slightly out of place. Gatta seemed to notice Tidus' confusion and explained, "A communication device from the Al Bhed. They've given us weaponry and tools to aid us in the conflict. Yuna has her own communication and told me you were coming before hand."
Tidus guessed that the war was so heavy on many people's mind that they didn't have time to think about much else. "Ah. Cool."
Gatta's disinterested nod did nothing to soothe Tidus' worry that this wasn't the same Gatta that he had left three or so years ago.
Gatta continued. "So you want to know about the war? Well, I'd suggest you have a seat. This could go on for a while."
Tidus nodded and did as Gatta had suggested, setting himself down in a small wicker chair in front of the likewise small and cluttered desk. Gatta followed suit and sat down in his own wicker seat on the opposite side of the desk. He folded his hands on a clear spot on the desk and leaned forward.
"Should I start from the beginning?"
"That's usually the best place to start."
Gatta nodded and didn't bother noticing the goofy sarcasm implied by that statement. "Alright. You do know this is only one point of view in millions, right?"
"Yeah, but you've apparently seen all the action."
Gatta's stern look only tightened as he replied curtly, "Not -all-."
Tidus nodded and waited for him to begin.
"You want the military version or the layman's version?"
"Whatever you want," Tidus replied.
Gatta nodded. "After you...'left,' Yuna and the others had to pick up the pieces of a shattered civilization and form some sort of ruling body to keep Spira in peace. As you can imagine, doing that was a task six people really couldn't handle. So, a meeting was held in Bevelle on how exactly Spira should be governed. Many, including Yuna, believed the people should be free to choose their own form of government. Therefore, councils were formed in each city and town, and a senate was to be held every six months. The councils' sizes were based on population, so Luca and Bevelle were to have the largest. The council members were going to be voted on by the people, so a weeding process of candidates had to commence."
Gatta noticed that Tidus trying to pay attention and decided to shorten his story a little.
"Getting this stuff together took a year. Bevelle ended up with the largest council, run by a newcomer in the ranks of the fledgling Yevonite belief system named Nyka. Of course, he's a big mystery because no one really knows where he came from. Some claim he's the messiah while others believe he's a crock. Either way, he snaked his way into office by a landslide. Meanwhile, Yuna's become some sort of celebrity and everyone wants to see her. Including the Young People's Group and Youth Alliance, two teenager religious sects sheltered by the New Yevon movement, which Nyka spearheaded. Before you know it, half of Bevelle is Yevonite...again."
"So Nyka's trying to convert everyone in Spira with military force?" Tidus asked, leaning forward in his chair.
Gatta held up his hand. "Let me finish, damn it."
Tidus nodded and sat back in his chair.
"Enter Post-Sin Year Two. Yuna's trying to get everyone off her back, Rikku's moved back to Bikanel to help rebuild Home and I'm stuck with heading up the Besaid branch of the Crusaders. The Crusaders and I pretty much get rid of all the remaining fiends in the area and news-spheres from all over report that Sinspawn is no longer a threat. The Crusaders sort of become the military police for Spira, with branches in all cities."
Tidus once again leaned forward. "So you mean to tell me that the Crusaders became the world's army?"
Gatta shrugged. "Wasn't an army anymore. It was more or less a peacekeeping force. Not even Bevelle seemed to have a need for an army. Until..."
"Nyka wanted more power," Tidus finished.
"Yup. After begging Yuna for rights to land and nation proposals and getting rejected by Yuna's 'let's be peaceful together,' Nyka finally got fed up enough to form his own army. And how did he do this? He used a perfect opportunity. But I'm getting ahead of myself."
"Weston comes into play, right?"
"Yeah, I've kinda skipped the majority of the second Post Sin year, but there's really not much to tell. Weston pops up, or should I say plops down, and confuses the hell out of us all. He's not even from this -world-. We're talking a totally alien guy here."
Tidus hmmed to himself. "But him being an...'alien' is just you speculating, right? He could be from the past, just like me, couldn't he?"
"Of course, and I'm not ruling that out...but he's just not like anyone I've ever met, even you."
Tidus nodded.
Gatta continued, "Anyway, Weston shows up, and then the fun ensues. He bullies a Bevelle council member. Mousy little guy by the name of Fagan. Then he participates in a blitzball tournament, and ultimately saves Yuna's life."
"Saves her life?" Tidus asked, almost jumping from his chair.
"Yeah. Two 'Crusader' guards tried to kill her. Weston proved that he was a soldier then and there. In two seconds, one of the soldiers had choked to death on his own collapsed windpipe and the other was given a bullet through the head by his own rifle. I've never heard of anything like that, ever. Eventually, word came around that Nyka was going to push his newly formed army on Kilika to sort of scare Yuna into accepting his plans for a Yevonite nation. Of course, before this, most of the Crusader force moved to Besaid in support of Yuna. And by most, I really mean half. A percentage of the other half sided with Nyka while the remaining few just kinda dropped out of sight. But back to Kilika. The Yevonites made their push, but were stopped by our little peace force that we had set up in town upon hearing of their invasion attempt. Weston was there and performed-"
Just then, the door to Gatta's office flew open and the receptionist soldier looked straight to Gatta, not bothering to excuse his actions.
"Sir,"
"Yes, corporal?" Gatta replied, eyes moving to the squirrelly soldier.
"The receiving dock, it's unfinished."
"This I know, Corporal. What do you want?"
The soldier looked to Tidus and then to Gatta. After a moment of decision, the soldier stepped to Gatta's side and whispered into his ear. Tidus couldn't make out what the soldier was saying, but Gatta shouted aloud upon hearing whatever news it was, "Already!?"
Gatta looked to Tidus and quickly said, "We'll finish this later."
Tidus nodded but couldn't help but raise a brow. The soldier and Gatta left the room in a hurry. After a few moments of deliberation, Tidus decided to leave the office as well. He headed out side and could see a pile of Crusaders gathered around what appeared to be an unfinished loading dock. Most of the men were looking up, so Tidus followed suit. What he saw was something that not even his first look at Sin could've lived up to.
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So this is death, Fagan thought. Nothing but empty black space. It was in his final moments that Fagan had realized his destiny. He knew what he was supposed to do. But how could he do it trapped in a pyrefly? Not even the fact that, upon being absorbed by the little ball of light he was now trapped in, he knew that all of Yevon's teachings were bull shocked him. The only thing on his 'mind' was getting out, and getting out fast.
Try as he might, Fagan couldn't move. He couldn't speak. Couldn't even honestly hear anything except for his own thoughts.
So, this is the glorious heaven Yevon spoke of so much. The 'Farplane.' Apparently, all the Farplane really consisted of was a beautiful mountain and valley with a waterfall and stream. Pyreflies, as far as Fagan could gather from the first moments after death, were light- based creatures that were hosts to the 'life-force' or soul of a human being. They sucked you up and were full for the rest of their life, which was essentially eternal. But, Fagan also wandered as to how certain spirits could escape the prison of the Pyrefly. He gathered it had something to do with being unsent.
Fagan tried to think of a loophole, a catch, anything in the texts that could possibly get him out of this hell and back into the real world, ghost or not. He honestly didn't want to be trapped in the pyrefly for ages on end, his anger and lust for vengeance growing with each vision of his slain wife running through his head. It was then he knew what being sent actually did. The dance repelled the pyreflies from Spira and into the Farplane indefinitely. What if Fagan could somehow do an anti-sending on himself in his own mind? Could the solution simply be singing the Hymn backwards? For a few moments, Fagan gathered his thoughts and concentrated on switching the Hymn's notes backwards. After a while, Fagan had it down pat and sang it to himself over and over again. He sang and sang, with every bit of feeling he could muster. Despite his mute hymn falling on deaf ears, a small beam of reddish light appeared and Fagan could once again see.
Slowly, his sense started to rush back to him. He could smell clean freshwater, fragrant flowers, and the rusted smell of dirt. He could hear a beautiful melody playing that mixed a bird's call with the soothing sound of rain hitting leaves. His eyes were filling with color. Shades of blue, white, green, and brown were jumping about in front of him. A tingling filled his limbs and his vision started to sharpen itself. After a few minutes, Fagan knew exactly where he was and exactly what his was going to do. He clenched his fists and stepped through a hazy blue barrier. His footsteps echoed off the cave-like walls as he made his way down the carved- from-stone stairs. Fagan knew that he couldn't go on like this forever, but he had a renewed life and he was going to make the most of it. Even ghosts had purposes, this Fagan now knew. And if Fagan's purpose was to fight another of his kind, then so be it. Vengeance was justice and justice was a virtue, and Fagan was determined to see that justice was served, one way or another.
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A/n: Another few months, another chapter. BUT! This one has been in the works for a while. I just finished it (and had Shad beta it; Thanks love!) yesterday, which was the same day I got back from my Senior Class Trip. We went to Universal Studios Orlando and had a blast! No apologies for this being late. I've been a busy guy. I've recently won a free ride to the college of my choice including books, I've been preparing for the Grad parties and ceremony, getting my first year in college planned with my advisor, and lazing off! So nyah.
This chapter is essentially just more plot movement, save for Fagan's death etc. I was going to do that whole thing differently and have Fagan on Nyka's side, but at the last minute, changed it to a ghostly tale of vengeance. Bwahah. Chapter 17 coming soon! ~No One
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" Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged." - Joseph Joubert
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So, what, exactly was I doing, shuffling my way stealthily towards a large, floating, and boarding merchant's airship in the dead of the night? I honestly couldn't answer that question. But, I was there, and I was on a mission. Sure, it was a very poorly organized mission and I had little to no support...okay, I had -no- support. This was wholly my decision, even if I didn't know my reasons for doing it.
I suppose you could say that Tidus' return had something to do with it. I'm not an attention hog and I wasn't jealous of his happiness with Yuna...but this wasn't, in my eyes, the time to be happy. This was the time to get things done, and since Yuna and her "posse" seemed so inclined to just drop the fact that we were in a conflict that could very well last for years, I decided to take it upon myself to take the reins. And if I had to sneak into an occupied city, I would.
As I neared the docks, I began to actually feel the wind wrapping around and squeezing the energy from me. One bad thing about Besaid's weather was that during the day, you'd melt, and at night, you'd freeze. Thanks to the wind, the freezing factor was doubled, and here I was, wearing an all black get up given to me by none other than Lulu. Claimed she had made it for Chappu years ago. I was inclined to believe her since my wide shoulders had required her to quickly alter the hell out of the outfit's upper half. No, this wasn't a "sneaking suit." This was a thin, tight, and uncomfortable shirt and stocking combo. The only part of this entire outfit that was remotely comfortable was the footwear, which consisted of thin socks and my own combat boots.
Another thing about this mission that totally bummed me: no weapons save a small dagger given to me by Gatta.
"Good luck," he had said upon my leaving his office.
Good luck indeed, asshole. I looked like a "Lost Boy" of Peter Pan fame, complete with knife and stockings! I'd have to procure some clothes upon my arrival in Luca. Stealing them didn't really bother me. What bothered me was choosing the right clothes. The inhabitants would clue me in, but I was still afraid of not being able to blend in. Say I picked some clothes from the Lucan equivalent of a Salvation Army Post and walked around dressed like a clown. That'd be like a kid in Brooklyn dressing in bright pink and donning a sign that read, "Fuck New York!"
Upon reaching the wooden planks of the air ship's dock, I slowly inched along the side of the vessel. My eyes and ears were darting, focusing, refocusing, and flitting. No real guard was viewable, just that same overweight merchant handing one of his subordinates some boxes one at a time. I found some cover behind a stray box and prayed that this wasn't on their list of cargo. The minutes ticked by, my eyes following the movement of box after box being loaded into the ship's hold. Eventually, the merchant walked into the hold himself and I didn't see him again. The box I was behind wasn't needed, but that wouldn't help me. I'd have to make it into the hold without him or any of his workers seeing me.
Gatta had told me that stealth wasn't an issue in this endeavor, but seeing as we hadn't really asked the merchant permission and I had no way of "persuading" him to cooperate, I decided to lay low and out of sight. This also worsened the consequences if I -was- caught on the ship, but even if I had to knock everyone but the pilots out, I'd find a way to keep my cover.
I peeked my head over the box and noticed no one near the hold's bay doors, so I hunched on over and peered in. Not a soul in sight. I found a comfortable spot behind a wall of boxes and waited. It was all over except the waiting...and the eventual infiltration and recon thing. That'd come later, thankfully.
--------------------
With a groan, Fagan awoke to an empty bed.
"Not surprising," he thought to himself.
Elaine had not as much as said a word to him lately and he knew exactly why, but he wasn't going to move any ground for in his head, he hadn't done anything wrong. He also knew that Nyka had put some sort of ideas in her head that had upset her even more. Elaine's diehard support for the struggling religion was beautiful, but lately, it was tearing him from the love of his life. A few months ago, this wasn't an issue, for the two had romantically shared their love for each other, and Yevon. Yet, to Elaine, Yevon was everything, and to Fagan, Yevon was the deity he put his trust in. How could she love Fagan if she already loved someone? Yevon owned a larger part of her heart than Fagan did, and he knew that somewhere, somehow, that was wrong, in some form or fashion.
Yevon was dead. This, Fagan knew. Yet he would never let go of the one thing that had always been constant in his life. Yevon had kept him from the deadly hands of Sin, and the deadly hands of ill-devoted life. But then, Elaine had come along, and she became his devotion.
And now, it was crumbling beneath his fingertips and he couldn't stop it. Nyka, he knew, had some hand in it. If there was no Yevon, as most of Spira had come to realize since the defeat of Sin, then who else could be responsible? He'd find out, and tonight.
Fagan slumped out of bed, quickly dressed, and bounded out of the door. His eyes met the temple and never left it as he hurriedly made his way towards the tall, castle-like capital of Bevelle.
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Yeah, so waiting wasn't for me. I admit it. Being stuck in that hold was hell. A utter and complete hell that was worsened by the fact that every thirty or so minutes, that fat merchant would come down and eat some of his cargo.
He was -eating- the stuff he would be selling later today. That makes about as much sense as me in a tutu. I would've knocked the hell out of him...but I wasn't going to risk my cover just to give him one for.
The scene reminded me of one I had witnessed in school. I was volunteering for a fund raiser -my only reason being that the girl I had had a crush on for ages was going to be working on it too- and witnessed the teacher eating the doughnuts we were about to be selling. I even confronted the teacher about it, but was 'voted off' the fundraiser. After that, I decided to skip out on anything school related. I didn't want to be apart of a situation where the shit could hit the fan and the teacher would end up blaming the kids.
School for me was something that I tolerated. I was one of the kids who always sat in the back of class, kept to himself, and was always writing poetry. And I only wrote to release pent up feelings. Didn't really have anyone to release to. I wasn't a dance type either. I guess I never saw the appeal in gathering in a hot, stinky gym in formal wear and standing or shuffling around. Then came college...where I was essentially doing the same thing. The only difference there was I was reporting back to barracks instead of a dorm when I was done with classes.
I yawned and leaned back against the wall behind me. Soon, I found myself slowly drifting to sleep. Not the wisest choice for an infiltrating soldier, but hey, I figured the merchant would be too busy stuffing his face to worry about intruders.
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Fagan made his way up the long steps to the fifth-storey office Nyka inhabited. The stone staircase itself was adorned with thick, red carpeting, and the obligatory vine-like banister decorations. Such a wonderfully rich palace for a humble religion, Fagan thought.
Upon reaching the foyer, two machina-armed guards stopped him and asked his business. Fagan only replied, "To see Nyka."
"Nyka's busy," one stressed.
The other hunched his shoulders forward and shifted his gun, trying to show Fagan that he should back away. This only made Fagan angrier and he said firmly, "I want to see Nyka."
"Look, sir. Nyka's busy. He's not ready to see anyone."
Fagan growled. "Oh, so you have to have an appointment to see a priest now?"
The two men looked to each other and started to advance on Fagan. Thanks to his small frame and quick movements, he squeezed through the men and violently opened the double-doors leading into Nyka's office.
Due to his already angered state, Fagan didn't even see Nyka before yelling, "Nyka, I've got to talk to you."
Hearing no intelligible answer, he yelled again. As his anger calmed to a dull curiosity, he finally focused his eyes on the center of the room. What he saw enraged him, and he immediately dove for the naked, bent form belonging to Nyka. Instead of making contact with the Maester, he hit the floor and startled the woman he had fallen next too. And he knew who the woman was, but his brain and heart failed to recognize her.
Nyka's voice, which was now altered a bit, yelled out for the guards, who immediately came rushing in. They ignored the scene in front of them and looked to Nyka for orders.
A stunned Fagan tried to stand, but, after a nod from Nyka, was hit in the forehead by the butt of one of the guard's rifles. The woman next to him screamed loudly, and with his skull feeling as if it's been cracked, Fagan's brain finally recognized the woman as his wife.
Nyka's tone bit into the air and ruthless orders were given. Fagan couldn't really make out the words, for the ringing in his ears was drowning out all but a little bit of sound. His eyes were riddled with a fuzzy form of double vision. Once again, he tried to push himself up, but only felt a punch connecting with his thigh. The leg was now totally useless, save for causing Fagan an unimaginable amount of pain. A hand reached down to rub the sore spot, only to become covered in a warm liquid. It was then Fagan knew he'd been shot by the machina.
Fagan's other leg tried to curl, it's foot coming flat against the floor, and all the while he grunted and groaned from the effort. Just as the leg started to get a little bit of leverage, another punching sensation hit Fagan just below the knee. Except this sensation was much more painful. The bullet had shattered most of the bone and cartilage that resided in his knee. Fagan growled and lay back, feeling his head hit the floor underneath him.
Somehow, this seemed a fitting end to a botched journey. Fagan had always thought it would be his religion that would kill him. It had all begun with his wife and blossomed into this, his final moments. His vision was slowly blacking out and he could scarcely hear anything. Death was fast approaching as his back became soaked with the blood pouring from his wounds. With a last bit of strength, he grabbed his wife's hand and squeezed. Their eyes met in a gaze of both shock and unending love.
Every single event they had ever been through, from their first meeting in school to their wedding, flashed in their collective view. In this, their final moment, they were sharing messages of everlasting love and eternal life on the Farplane. But, Fagan knew better. The Farplane was a place of torment. That alone was the reason some spirits turned into 'fiends.' Those spirits simply did not want to go to a place where the only solace you are offered is a bird's eye view of a society you can never return to.
Now, Fagan knew why so many desperately avoided the Farplane and instead wandered Spira as unsent beings. He knew the exact reason: unfinished business. Be it saying goodbye to loved ones, or seeking revenge, the reason was still the same. The spirit wasn't finished on Spira, and wouldn't accept their place in the Farplane until they were through. Despite the comforting and loving gaze he was sharing with his wife, he knew that he wouldn't be with her when she arrived in the Farplane.
Fagan, however, wasn't going to just seek revenge. No, Fagan's mission, he determined as he faintly heard Nyka bark the final orders to his guards, was going to be one of vengeance. This was going to be a mission that would avenge every single crime committed by Nyka and his underlings and a mission that would extend beyond the war and beyond the grave.
With a quick turn of his head, Fagan caught a final glimpse of the leader known as 'Nyka.' The aging bearded man was behind his desk, cackling at the scene playing out before him. It was then that Fagan got a glimpse of the 'real' Nyka. Fagan chalked it up to his mind's state, but he secretly knew what he had seen was true. And the fact that no one, not even Nyka's aide, knew of the leader's past solidified his vision. Nyka had appeared shortly after the defeat of Sin as a full supporter of Yevon. Nyka led the movement to start the "New Yevon" group and forwarded money to the Youth Alliance and Young People's Group, concreting the two teen groups' support of the New Yevon faction. Nyka had moved like a plague through Bevelle and quickly climbed the ladder of power. Fagan had always been curious over the leader's history, but at that single glance, he was all knowing on the history of the man known only as 'Nyka,' and it fueled his anger that much more.
Fagan's eyes returned to his wife's and he squeezed her hand for the last time. With a whispered 'I love you,' two loud bangs, and two bright flashes, two young lives were ended by the very same religion they had grown up loving.
--------------------
I hadn't a clue what time it was. The hold didn't have any portholes in it; therefore, I couldn't really tell if it was day or night. My hands balled into fists and I rubbed the sleep from my eyes while my brain continued to try to make sense of the disorientation a nap brought on.
Slowly, I stood, hearing my leg and back joints popping like wildfire. I had to have been there for more than just a few minutes. I reached towards the ceiling and yawned. Even after...however long I had been in this hold, I hadn't a clue why exactly I was doing this. This wasn't a war that I -had- to be in. This wasn't a conflict where I was being forced to go somewhere. Luca wasn't Columbia. I didn't have seven other guys looking out for me and I didn't have instant air support. As a matter of fact, I didn't even have any frigging weapons. All I had was a gay little 'dagger' and the black, uncomfortable as hell tights. It wasn't like I was going into a situation where I had the advantage. This 'mission' was more or less a kid sticking his head under a lawnmower. I'd either die trying, or, if I got extremely lucky, make it out alive. But my hopes weren't high. What can one man do against an army? Not much.
I had learned a long time ago that life wasn't like a computer game. There was no continues, no health bars, no endless supply of bullets, and no save points for me to utilize. All I could rely on was my training and stamina. Knowing that made it an even harder mission. Physiologically, I was looking at a real nightmare. Physically, I was looking at pure torture. Emotionally I was looking at...a damn fun time. I wasn't afraid to admit that dangerous situations excited me. That was all apart of being a soldier. If you couldn't crack a joke while bullets were whizzing by your head, you wouldn't make it in -any- military force. Sick, yes, but very plausible and very effective. If you take the fear out of war, you take the fear out of the man, and more bodies are dropped, leading to more ground gained. Desensitization, therefore, is an important tool in training troops.
And there I was, standing behind some cargo, trying to desensitize myself from the boredom of having to wait for the damned ship to make it to Luca. Thankfully, the airship creaked and groaned as it seemed to begin its descent. It was only a few minutes later when people started filling the hold, boxes started moving, and I started to get a tad bit nervous.
--------------------
Eimour awoke to the prodding fingers of her son.
"You're gonna be late, mommy," young Gary said.
Eimour slowly sat up in bed and looked towards the clock just above her mirror. Through her newly awoken daze, she could scarcely make out the time. But she did get the gist of what her son had told her. Quickly, she scampered off to her small dresser, pulled out a skirt and blouse, changed and was out of the door with Gary in her arms. She surely didn't want to be late for her first full day of work, but she was having her doubts as she pushed through the double doors and met the dark haze of early morning.
The owner of the pub had told her that working early morning to afternoon would be a better shift to work, as long as she didn't mind tending to the Yevonites. Of course, Eimour would work whenever he told her to. The job was going to pay well and she'd do just about anything to keep it.
Her feet found the sidewalk and she bounded towards the pub. Now, while Eimour usually practiced good common sense and was quite smart, she reflexively tried to open the pub's locked front double doors. She caught on quickly, though, and darted down the alleyway between the inn and pub, finding the kitchen entrance. After a few knocks, the owner of the pub opened the door and greeted them with a smile.
"Morning," Eimour said, returning the older man's smile.
The owner nodded, keeping his smile, and motioned toward Gary. "I'll take him on a tour of the place while you get ready back here."
Eimour smiled and nodded, setting Gary down. The owner took Gary's hand and led him off to the front of the pub. Eimour quickly donned her apron and came around to the front of the bar, watching the old man show her son every nook and cranny of the seating area. She closed her eyes and smiled and dreamt, despite herself, that the owner was her father and he was giving his grandson an important lesson.
The knowledge that Gary would more than likely grow up without any male figurehead in his life ate away at Eimour's soul like a plague. Even with her hatred towards men, she couldn't help but long for one, if only to give Gary the other half of the parenting equation.
Eimour's smile quickly faded at the thought of her son never having a father figure. With a sigh, she pressed herself off of the bar and met the owner and Gary on their way back behind the bar.
"Mighty fine lad you've got here, dear," the owner complimented.
Eimour's smile returned as she took Gary's hand. "Yes he is."
Gary turned a shade of red and urged his mother towards the kitchen.
The owner laughed. "As long as he doesn't drink any of the ale, he can do as he pleases."
With that, Eimour released her son's hand and the young child bounded off for the kitchen to more than likely sample some of what the cook was preparing. The older man nodded to the doors and said, "We're open now. All you have to do is take orders and bring orders. And since most of the morning crowd is soldiers and businessmen, the most common order will be ale and more ale. Some may order some of our famous dumplings; others may order some nuts, while others may just order some water. Either way, this shouldn't be too hard on you. If you're swamped, just call me from my office and I'll come running, ok?"
Eimour nodded and looked to the doors just in time to see the first customers of the day trudge in.
--------------------
Tidus shot up in his bed, covers flying off of him as he gasped from breath. Sweat rivulets covered his entire body, his hair clung to his face, and he quickly removed his soaked t-shirt. His mind raced to make sense of the nightmare he had just escaped. Tidus' memory could only recall bits and pieces of the dream, and those bits and pieces were more or less the worst parts. The images of two lovers, lying on the ground, bleeding, with bullet holes in their heads were burnt in his vision and he couldn't shake them away. A deep and lasting sadness came over him as he focused on the scene. It was when he saw their hands intertwined that fear struck him. A fit of trembles hit him as his mind subconsciously placed Yuna and him in the two lovers' place.
For the life of him, Tidus couldn't understand why he was having visions of total strangers. He did seem to get a message out of them though and quietly removed himself from his bed. Hunching forward, he slinked his way onto Besaid's main path, using the merchants' carts for cover. Tidus imagined that if anyone found him sneaking around outside, he'd have a bit of explaining to do. Slowly but surely, he made his way to Besaid Temple's entrance hall. Not a soul was in sight, and that eased Tidus' mind just a tad bit. Silently he tiptoed across the entrance hall's slick floor and soon found himself in front of a thick, wooden door. The only worry crossing his mind as he eased the door open was if he had the correct room or not. His question was answered as he gazed upon Yuna's sleeping form.
Tidus stood in the doorway for quite some time, just staring at the woman he loved as she slept. It was amazing to him how she was always beautiful, even lying in bed, sans makeup. True love had found him, and he was beginning to understand what happened to his mother after his father was gone. He imagined the same thing happened to Yuna, in a way. Of course, she'd never own up to it in front of him. A bit of life had left both of them when they parted, and what made it so bittersweet was the fact that neither of them could be honest enough to tell the other that they had lost hope.
Yuna lay on her back, her face bathed in the iridescent light of a descending moon. Her silken brown hair was a shade or two brighter in the moonlight, and Tidus smiled upon making that observation. He bent forward and softly brushed a few locks from her face with a smile, his lower half softly coming to rest on the empty side of the bed. His eyes gazed at her peaceful countenance as his hand continued to stroke her hair. Tidus' thoughts reverted to his first romantic contact with the former Summoner. Macalania seemed years ago, and in truth it was, but it didn't feel like three to Tidus. To him, it felt close to fifty or more.
After a few minutes, Tidus sighed and eased up, but to his surprise, a soft and tiny hand gripped his elbow.
"Don't go," said Yuna in a surprisingly sober tone.
Tidus turned and met with his lover's gaze. "Er...sorry...didn't know you were awake."
She smiled dreamily at him and lightly scratched along his lower arm. "It's ok. I didn't know that I'd wake up to such a comforting feeling."
Tidus blushed, causing a soft chuckle to escape her.
"May I ask why you don't have a shirt on?" she asked with a slightly mischievous smirk.
Again, he blushed and looked down. "I had a nightmare."
She scooted forward and put her hands on his hips, pulling him down into an embrace. He shifted slightly to get comfortable, on arm going around her shoulders, the other extending so that his hand could grasp one of her own. She squeezed his hand gently.
"I'm sorry."
He cocked a smile and placed a kiss on the bridge of her nose. "Don't be sorry for something you didn't do. It...it just scared me. I had to come here and make sure that you were here. Ya know, that you were real and able to be touched."
She sighed softly. "Your time away must've been horrible."
He put a fingertip to her lips and placed his forehead against her own. "Shh, let's not talk about that. I don't want you worrying over the past. I stood and watched you sleep for a while, Yuna, and while I did, I thought of how the two of us would never tell each other the truth of what we felt while we were separated."
"I'd tell you anything," she affirmed.
He shook is head. "You don't have to tell me, because I already know. And I'd tell you anything too...it's just that I can't admit to you that...I was weak. I...lost...I lost hope over time, Yuna, and it makes me feel so damned ashamed."
One of her palms rose and softly stroked his cheek. "Tidus...don't...The truth is...I lost hope too. I just couldn't convince myself that you'd come back. No matter how much I wanted you to...I just couldn't see it happening."
"I don't know how it happened, but it did, and that's all that matters, right?"
She nodded meekly in response.
He wrapped his arms tight around her shoulders and rested his cheek into her hair. She smiled and nuzzled into the nape of his neck.
"I'm just so glad I have you back," she said as Tidus felt a tear come into contact with his collarbone.
In response, he brought up a hand and gently stroked the back of her head, humming softly to her a tune that had connected them so long ago.
"The Hymn of the Fayth," she recalled aloud. "It's been so long..."
He continued the hum as she listened intently, her cheek resting against his shoulder. Soon, she felt as if she was going to fall asleep. Tidus seemed to sense this and ended his hum. Yuna shifted slightly and lightly kissed his chin.
Tidus smiled and returned the kiss to her forehead. "Yuna?"
"Yes," she replied, her voice thick with content.
"Do you think...possibly...that my coming back may have something to do with what Spira's going through?"
Yuna stayed silent for a moment, as if she was thinking about his question for the very first time. "I honestly...don't know. I've not had that much time to really think about it." She locked her eyes to his own and added with a smile, "It may have something to do with a lonely girl wishing and wishing every day that the love of her life would return."
He returned the smile and planted a feather-like kiss to her lips. "It may have also had something to do with a lonely boy wishing and wishing every day that he could return to the girl of his dreams ASAP."
With that, he planted another kiss to her lips. The two lovers sat in silence a moment, listening to one another's heartbeat as time ticked by. Not a worry was on their minds as they sat on the bed in an infallible embrace. Nothing was going to separate them, ever. Tidus had returned and planned on staying. But something was eating away at him, and he couldn't keep it silent any longer.
"Yuna...?"
She answered with a soft 'mmhmm?' that he felt more in his chest than actually heard.
"Is anyone going to clue me in on all that's happened with this 'war' everyone's talking about?"
As soon as his question had left his throat, Tidus could feel his love sigh silently. After a moment or two she answered.
"I honestly didn't want to worry you about it-"
"Yuna...I already worry about it. If it bothers you, it bothers me."
She nodded, understanding that feeling very well. "Well...I suppose Gatta could fill you in. He's seen the most combat...besides Weston."
"Speaking of Weston...what's his story? I couldn't gather much in the tent yesterday."
Yuna looked ahead as if trying to recall some long lost piece of information. "It's been so long, I've nearly forgotten that he's not from this world..."
Tidus laughed and rubbed his nose against hers. "I could tell that just by looking at him. I mean, has he said much about his past? How he got here?"
Yuna thought for a moment. "Not really...at least not to me. Gatta probably knows more about him than anyone. They seem to be good friends."
"Soldiers in arms together, stick together," Tidus observed. "Looks like Gatta and I are going to be having a long talk today."
Yuna nodded and snuggled into his chest. He wrapped his arms a bit tighter around her waist, planting soft kisses into her hair.
He smirked and said aloud, "Think I should make a habit out of this?"
She let out a laugh and tapped the tip of his nose. "I don't know. You sneaking into my room shirtless will eventually get around the village, and you know how things get blown up in small communities."
He smirked and ruffled her hair. "Actually, I don't. I was the one who lived in Zanarkand, remember?"
With that, he cackled and she lightly punched his stomach in response to the sarcasm.
"You know what I mean," she said after grabbing a pillow and bopping him with it.
"Oh, this means war!" he exclaimed and grabbed one of her other pillows. Soon, the feathers were flying and the two lovers were laughing quite loudly as they chased each other around the room.
Tidus had never thought that happiness could come in the form of such a childish activity, but honestly, he had never been happier in his life. And what really made him look to the future with a smile was that despite the fact that while both of them were three years older, wiser, and more responsible, they could still have a fun time. The one thing Tidus hated was stiff, overly mature young people who thought that the fun things in life stopped after the teen years were gone.
With one last bonk in the head by way of Yuna's pillow, Tidus collapsed on the bed, laughing and gasping for breath. Yuna fell beside her love, doing the very same. And the two lovers stayed there for a little while, letting the giggles run dry and their chests' movements slow. When they had both caught their breath, Tidus turned to Yuna and whispered, "I love you."
With a warm smile, Yuna replied with, "I love you, too."
And they both meant it with all they were worth.
--------------------
Running is always fun. Especially when you've got three rather large dockworkers chasing after you through a crowded marketplace. So, yeah, I was discovered. The look on the worker's face that discovered me was rather amusing. When I laughed, I think I caught him off guard, but I wasn't really sure, because I was running shortly after that. Luckily, I was able to find a clothing shop to duck into. Apparently, the shop's owner was out, so I was able to "procure" a gray, hooded cloak and some thin, baggy, and gray pants without any trouble. I emerged a new man. No longer was I a stowaway wearing black tights; I was now a guy in a cloak. Not a big change, but enough to keep those dockworkers off of my tail for a little while.
Sans pursuers, I then took the time to actually look around. The shop was adjacent to a large marketplace that opened up to the docks and the stadium. Yevonite guard posts were probably placed every hundred feet apart from each other. Ridiculous, really, but I could understand the Yevonites' fears. That'd just leave Gatta and I more soldiers to take care of, which we were very capable of doing.
I didn't really see much of a problem for getting Luca back, especially with the backing of the Al Bhed. The only problem I saw was all the civilians...they were sitting ducks. Be it Yevonite or Crusader fire, I knew a few of them were going to go down before it was all said and done.
I wondered if anyone in Yuna's little camp knew just what they were getting into with a 'liberation' mission. As evidenced in the best -and worst- campaigns in military history, civilian deaths become a big issue with many members of society, notably those who are against military action.
The market area soon materialized into a darker, more ancient looking business district. With eateries and general stores lining the streets and guard posts within shouting distance of each other, I could sense that this would be a tough fighting ground. The inns and hotels were probably full of soldiers waiting to snipe some Crusaders.
As I walked along, my mind absorbing anything and everything, I grew aware of an incessant nagging at the back of my throat. While many would just chalk this up to thirst, I immediately thought back to my high school prom, where I had had this exact same nagging.
I was never much of a romantic guy. Not that I couldn't be...romantic. It was just I never saw a need for it, especially in light of all the shitty relationships my fellow classmates were in. And I was never, ever a dance sort of guy. Standing around and watching the couples gyrate to shitty rap and disco songs wasn't my type of entertainment. I was more of the heavy metal guy who'd rather listen to a song that resembled the sounds of a chaotic and bloody war than some white guy with no rhythm talking quickly into a microphone. Seriously, the height of originality in rap music was "Money, hoes, and kickin' whitey's ass" being repeated dozens of times with intermittent grunts and hollers while some over-sampled and over-used beat played in the background. That couldn't possibly be classified as music. Anyone in their right mind would take the aural chaos that was Slayer over some mile-a-minute, monotonous, and bland and over-paid rap group. Yeah, so I was biased. Anyway, to put it bluntly, I was stuck, wearing a penguin suit, in a loud, hot gym. The nagging at the back of my throat then wasn't thirst, but my mild case of 'drink everything in sigh' syndrome. Needless to say, I woke up in a car on the side of the interstate with a killer headache.
My first, and last, binge of alcohol had left me with about as much dignity as given to a guy caught masturbating. But, when I got that nagging, I had to quickly feed that little monster in my throat some form of rotting liquid to keep it down. I wasn't about to get shit faced again, especially on a mission.
I sighted a large, one-storey building with a properly proportioned sign that simply read 'Pub.' A quick stop in there wouldn't jeopardize anything, or so I thought...
--------------------
The pub was quite busy, but somehow, Eimour was able to keep up. Most of the tables were taken up. The only empty areas were a couple of booths in the back. The pub was full of idle chatter, most of it coming from the mumbling mouths of Yevonite soldiers. A few "regulars" from the neighborhood had come in and commended on Eimour's friendly and speedy service. The owner of the pub knew each of these "regulars" by name and thanked each of them personally for their comments. The soldiers had been a little less appealing. Eimour couldn't count using her fingers how many times she had been goosed by the half-asleep or half-drunk soldiers. She picked up a trend on the men after about an hour or so of serving then: ale was obviously this army's weakness. For some reason, it was acceptable for the soldiers to drink (for many officers were drinking along side them) and it almost seemed to be the "in" thing to do. Eimour could sense a lot of peer pressure in the group, namely noticing young soldiers hesitating before taking a drink of the heavy liquid.
Eimour didn't really see the appeal of a man who drank. The smell alone could kill any attraction, never mind the drunken stupor most drinking men got into time after time. Social drinking seemed to her more of an addiction than activity. But a job was a job and if Eimour had to endure a few gooses from drunken soldiers, she would. Getting them drunk was more or less keeping them from being sharp and operational in the field.
While Eimour tried not to mind the soldiers, she couldn't help but be uncomfortable around them. Here were men being led by a tyrant hungry on world domination. 'How dense do you have to be to follow a madman,' she asked herself. Of course, Nyka hadn't kept a very strong noose on Luca, but just the idea that he "owned" Luca didn't help make Eimour any more comfortable around the soldiers. These were men who had the consent to kill anyone who opposed Nyka, be they man, woman, or child. These men, outside of their deplorable drinking habits, mercilessly killed many Lucans just for thinking differently. These weren't the men you invited into your home with a smile and a bit of tea. These were the men you cowered in fear from. And why Gary was running around the main room, Eimour didn't know.
Eimour looked on as her son ran around to each table, jumping and hollering at the soldiers. Some of them seemed amused by the young boy's energetic yelping while others seemed very annoyed.
Eimour rushed out to the table Gary was currently at and overheard a soldier belt out a "No." Now officially scared, she grabbed for Gary only to see him run off towards the front doors.
"Gary!" she yelled.
The three and a half foot young boy ran face first into the legs of a tall and wide cloaked individual. Gary was easily dwarfed by this cloaked person, who Eimour quickly surmised was male, or so she hoped.
The man stopped and looked down to Eimour's son. Eimour herself was both worried and fighting her motherly urge to rip the man's head clean off his shoulders. As fast and hyper as he could, Gary yelled, "Are you my daddy? Daddy's a soldier and he's supposed to come back to me and mommy!"
The tall figure only stood there a moment before slowly bending down. Eimour made a move towards the man, ready to pounce, but he only held Gary up high and laughed.
The man's voice was gruff, obviously used to yelling, or smoking, or both. Eimour was slightly taken aback.
"Nope. I'm not your daddy kid. Sorry." The man laughed again and set Gary down, ruffling the young boy's hair.
A still shocked Eimour blinked a few times, her mind utterly confused from the conclusion of what she thought would be a job-ending battle for her son's life. Instead the tall man just stood there, his cloaked head staring directly at her, as if waiting for something.
Finally, after catching her breath, Eimour timidly asked, "May I help you?"
"Do you have any beer," asked the gruff voice.
"Um...excuse me?"
"Beer," the voice repeated.
"I don't think so...We have ale and water...and dumplings."
A sigh escaped the cloak's hood and the man replied, "Water then...that ale stuff is way too heavy for me."
"Please have a seat," she said, motioning towards one of the open booths. Eimour then nodded and left for the bar, leaving him behind to find the seat.
--------------------
So there I sat, in a pub filled to the brim with Yevonite soldiers, the nagging in my throat getting even worse. I was hoping the water would curtail my inhuman thirst for at least a little while.
I turned my head and watched the kid from behind the security of my hood. Cute little guy, but I wondered where his mother was. Not a good place for a little bundle of joy to be in, really. Pubs harbor the backbone of underground society: drunkards, criminals, and politicians. But having these soldiers here was even worse. Soldiers under the influence aren't fun guys to be around. I should know...had a nice experience in Columbia with a shit-faced corporal who decided it'd be fun to open fire on a group of spec- ops boys. To this day, they probably haven't found all the pieces of him.
The dark-haired waitress returned with my water and sat it down in front of me. I reached into my newly acquired coat and pulled out a few Gil. She looked at me as if I was either insane, or an idiot. Either way, it wasn't a welcoming look.
"Is there a problem?" I asked as I laid down the money.
"You aren't trying to pay for this are you?" she asked accusingly.
"Water's free here?"
"Of course..." she replied, cocking an eyebrow.
I mumbled a bit and put the Gil away. I then took a sip of the water, and surprisingly, it was cool and refreshing. I wasn't used to clean and cold water that didn't come in some special bottle with a French name.
I started to think aloud. "Water like this costs quite a bit where I'm from."
"Where are you from?" she asked.
I knew I had set myself up for that one. Hurriedly, I cleared my throat and grunted, "Besaid."
"Ah," she said.
I sat there looking at her for the next few moments, trying to tell if she was either trying to recognize me, or trying to burn a hole through me with her laser vision. Then, I took a look behind the bar and saw an aging man looking towards my table. What was I, the star attraction at a zoo?
After a few more moments of awkward silence, I pulled the hood from over my head and cocked an eyebrow.
"Curious no longer?" I asked, trying my best not to sound annoyed or sarcastic.
She seemed to blink out of her little staring trance and looked my face over a few times. This, of course, made me uneasy and my instincts jumped into overdrive.
Finally, I asked in a not so pleasant voice, "This water will do. Thank you."
She got the message and left to tend to another table.
I downed the rest of my water in one quick shot and began to stand up. I stopped however, when my selective hearing picked out something I didn't quite like.
"Someone get this kid away from me. I'm about to shoot the bastard."
My eyes locked to a scene that I had known was coming. Much like during my goal in the Blitzball tournament, my body took over and everything blurred. Soon, the kid was in my arms and my legs were knocking over a Yevonite that had just aimed his rifle at the boy. The waitress came rushing forward and I handed the kid to her. Apparently, she was the mother, for as soon as she got him secure in her arms, she ran off to the back of the pub with the old guy I had noticed earlier. I felt like screaming 'Thanks for the support!'
And my one heroic act of the day left me surrounded by twenty or so pissed off Yevonites. I stood up and brushed myself off. The cloak was half- hanging off of my shoulders, so I just took it off, revealing the very odd- looking stocking-shirt combo. Probably not a good idea, but if I was going to be doing some hand-to-hand, I'd need some mobility.
What had always amused me about movies and video games was how the hero could be wearing a ten-ton jacket or trench coat and not have any limits on his physical ability. This was especially true in those good cop/bad cop movies. Freedom of movement was crucial in winning fights. Of course, that didn't matter much if there was twenty of them, and one of you.
I think I took my blows like a man. I didn't cry or yelp. Just took it like a good little trooper. Of course, my body didn't like me very much for allowing the soldiers to beat the living piss out of me. I remember connecting a few punches, but when the rifle-butts started flying, I was out for the count, if not more.
The last thing I remember before the darkness that is unconsciousness took over my mind was my nose making contact with the concrete sidewalk outside.
--------------------
Tidus walked along the waterfall path slowly, thanks to the red- haired lummox in front of him.
"Mind picking up the pace, Wakka?"
Wakka stopped and turned around. "S'not like that camp is goin' anywhere, bud."
"I know, but I'd like to be able to get back before -lunch-!"
"Hey, now. It's only seven in the mornin', ya?"
Tidus huffed a bit and nodded. "Yeah, yeah."
The two walked in silence for a little while, Wakka slowly leading while Tidus took in the growth of the village and its surrounding jungle. To Tidus, it was all new, as it would be with a newborn child. In away, Tidus thought to himself, he was newborn. He didn't want to label himself 'born-again' for that phrase had caused some trouble a few thousand years ago in Zanarkand. That huge time gap still got to him a little.
Tidus asked rather out of the blue, "What's your take on this war, Wakka?"
Wakka stopped walking, shrugged, and then continued his trek. "I dunno, really. Me an' Lu have been in our on world lately. Ya know how that is, right?"
Tidus laughed. "Of course, Wakka. I understand...what I meant was...how do you feel about it personally?"
Again, Wakka shrugged. "I hate that people are dyin', but if we have to kill to protect peace...I think it has to be done."
Tidus nodded to himself and said no more.
Soon, the two found themselves standing in a cleared out patch of jungle where a long and hastily built one-story building stood along with an obstacle course and what looked to be a training area. Uniformed Crusaders were standing around everywhere. Some looked to be mingling while others were obviously guards.
As they neared the door, Wakka nodded to the guards posted in front of it and they let the two pass. What surprised Tidus was how none of the soldiers seemed to really notice that he was there. Odd, seeing as Tidus had just recently returned from the dead.
Wakka opened the thin wooden door to the complex and entered a small reception area. Tidus followed in suit and looked the uniform area over. It wasn't the lodge he had known a few years ago. This building resembled a stiff doctor's office to Tidus. He shrugged and Wakka tapped on the desk in the center of the room. A receptionist in Crusader uniform came up from under the desk, hands full of some sort of wire material.
"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked.
Wakka nodded and pointed to a door in the back of the room. "Gatta in?"
"Yeah," came the blunt answer.
"Can we see him?"
"Yeah."
Wakka looked at the soldier with his head cocked as if waiting for the young man to do something. That something never came and while Wakka continued to simply stand there, Tidus snuck off into the room in the back. Gatta was standing in the back of the small office looking out of a rather big window. The window's viewing area was of the obstacle course and training ground. Tidus blinked a few times and looked about the room.
Gatta's office was sparsely decorated. The only medal visible was his induction medal presented to him years ago when he joined the Crusaders. There was no sign of rank or seniority. The desk was piled a mile high with paper work and there were balls of crumpled paper everywhere along one side of the room. A few maps could be jutting out from the pile on his desk along with some pin-markers and pencils.
Tidus cleared his throat and Gatta turned around. Yet again, Tidus was surprised at how everyone, including Gatta, took his reappearance as if it were natural.
"Yes," replied a slightly older and weary looking Gatta.
"I've come to talk to you about-"
"The war, yes," Gatta interrupted. He held up a rectangular device that looked slightly out of place. Gatta seemed to notice Tidus' confusion and explained, "A communication device from the Al Bhed. They've given us weaponry and tools to aid us in the conflict. Yuna has her own communication and told me you were coming before hand."
Tidus guessed that the war was so heavy on many people's mind that they didn't have time to think about much else. "Ah. Cool."
Gatta's disinterested nod did nothing to soothe Tidus' worry that this wasn't the same Gatta that he had left three or so years ago.
Gatta continued. "So you want to know about the war? Well, I'd suggest you have a seat. This could go on for a while."
Tidus nodded and did as Gatta had suggested, setting himself down in a small wicker chair in front of the likewise small and cluttered desk. Gatta followed suit and sat down in his own wicker seat on the opposite side of the desk. He folded his hands on a clear spot on the desk and leaned forward.
"Should I start from the beginning?"
"That's usually the best place to start."
Gatta nodded and didn't bother noticing the goofy sarcasm implied by that statement. "Alright. You do know this is only one point of view in millions, right?"
"Yeah, but you've apparently seen all the action."
Gatta's stern look only tightened as he replied curtly, "Not -all-."
Tidus nodded and waited for him to begin.
"You want the military version or the layman's version?"
"Whatever you want," Tidus replied.
Gatta nodded. "After you...'left,' Yuna and the others had to pick up the pieces of a shattered civilization and form some sort of ruling body to keep Spira in peace. As you can imagine, doing that was a task six people really couldn't handle. So, a meeting was held in Bevelle on how exactly Spira should be governed. Many, including Yuna, believed the people should be free to choose their own form of government. Therefore, councils were formed in each city and town, and a senate was to be held every six months. The councils' sizes were based on population, so Luca and Bevelle were to have the largest. The council members were going to be voted on by the people, so a weeding process of candidates had to commence."
Gatta noticed that Tidus trying to pay attention and decided to shorten his story a little.
"Getting this stuff together took a year. Bevelle ended up with the largest council, run by a newcomer in the ranks of the fledgling Yevonite belief system named Nyka. Of course, he's a big mystery because no one really knows where he came from. Some claim he's the messiah while others believe he's a crock. Either way, he snaked his way into office by a landslide. Meanwhile, Yuna's become some sort of celebrity and everyone wants to see her. Including the Young People's Group and Youth Alliance, two teenager religious sects sheltered by the New Yevon movement, which Nyka spearheaded. Before you know it, half of Bevelle is Yevonite...again."
"So Nyka's trying to convert everyone in Spira with military force?" Tidus asked, leaning forward in his chair.
Gatta held up his hand. "Let me finish, damn it."
Tidus nodded and sat back in his chair.
"Enter Post-Sin Year Two. Yuna's trying to get everyone off her back, Rikku's moved back to Bikanel to help rebuild Home and I'm stuck with heading up the Besaid branch of the Crusaders. The Crusaders and I pretty much get rid of all the remaining fiends in the area and news-spheres from all over report that Sinspawn is no longer a threat. The Crusaders sort of become the military police for Spira, with branches in all cities."
Tidus once again leaned forward. "So you mean to tell me that the Crusaders became the world's army?"
Gatta shrugged. "Wasn't an army anymore. It was more or less a peacekeeping force. Not even Bevelle seemed to have a need for an army. Until..."
"Nyka wanted more power," Tidus finished.
"Yup. After begging Yuna for rights to land and nation proposals and getting rejected by Yuna's 'let's be peaceful together,' Nyka finally got fed up enough to form his own army. And how did he do this? He used a perfect opportunity. But I'm getting ahead of myself."
"Weston comes into play, right?"
"Yeah, I've kinda skipped the majority of the second Post Sin year, but there's really not much to tell. Weston pops up, or should I say plops down, and confuses the hell out of us all. He's not even from this -world-. We're talking a totally alien guy here."
Tidus hmmed to himself. "But him being an...'alien' is just you speculating, right? He could be from the past, just like me, couldn't he?"
"Of course, and I'm not ruling that out...but he's just not like anyone I've ever met, even you."
Tidus nodded.
Gatta continued, "Anyway, Weston shows up, and then the fun ensues. He bullies a Bevelle council member. Mousy little guy by the name of Fagan. Then he participates in a blitzball tournament, and ultimately saves Yuna's life."
"Saves her life?" Tidus asked, almost jumping from his chair.
"Yeah. Two 'Crusader' guards tried to kill her. Weston proved that he was a soldier then and there. In two seconds, one of the soldiers had choked to death on his own collapsed windpipe and the other was given a bullet through the head by his own rifle. I've never heard of anything like that, ever. Eventually, word came around that Nyka was going to push his newly formed army on Kilika to sort of scare Yuna into accepting his plans for a Yevonite nation. Of course, before this, most of the Crusader force moved to Besaid in support of Yuna. And by most, I really mean half. A percentage of the other half sided with Nyka while the remaining few just kinda dropped out of sight. But back to Kilika. The Yevonites made their push, but were stopped by our little peace force that we had set up in town upon hearing of their invasion attempt. Weston was there and performed-"
Just then, the door to Gatta's office flew open and the receptionist soldier looked straight to Gatta, not bothering to excuse his actions.
"Sir,"
"Yes, corporal?" Gatta replied, eyes moving to the squirrelly soldier.
"The receiving dock, it's unfinished."
"This I know, Corporal. What do you want?"
The soldier looked to Tidus and then to Gatta. After a moment of decision, the soldier stepped to Gatta's side and whispered into his ear. Tidus couldn't make out what the soldier was saying, but Gatta shouted aloud upon hearing whatever news it was, "Already!?"
Gatta looked to Tidus and quickly said, "We'll finish this later."
Tidus nodded but couldn't help but raise a brow. The soldier and Gatta left the room in a hurry. After a few moments of deliberation, Tidus decided to leave the office as well. He headed out side and could see a pile of Crusaders gathered around what appeared to be an unfinished loading dock. Most of the men were looking up, so Tidus followed suit. What he saw was something that not even his first look at Sin could've lived up to.
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So this is death, Fagan thought. Nothing but empty black space. It was in his final moments that Fagan had realized his destiny. He knew what he was supposed to do. But how could he do it trapped in a pyrefly? Not even the fact that, upon being absorbed by the little ball of light he was now trapped in, he knew that all of Yevon's teachings were bull shocked him. The only thing on his 'mind' was getting out, and getting out fast.
Try as he might, Fagan couldn't move. He couldn't speak. Couldn't even honestly hear anything except for his own thoughts.
So, this is the glorious heaven Yevon spoke of so much. The 'Farplane.' Apparently, all the Farplane really consisted of was a beautiful mountain and valley with a waterfall and stream. Pyreflies, as far as Fagan could gather from the first moments after death, were light- based creatures that were hosts to the 'life-force' or soul of a human being. They sucked you up and were full for the rest of their life, which was essentially eternal. But, Fagan also wandered as to how certain spirits could escape the prison of the Pyrefly. He gathered it had something to do with being unsent.
Fagan tried to think of a loophole, a catch, anything in the texts that could possibly get him out of this hell and back into the real world, ghost or not. He honestly didn't want to be trapped in the pyrefly for ages on end, his anger and lust for vengeance growing with each vision of his slain wife running through his head. It was then he knew what being sent actually did. The dance repelled the pyreflies from Spira and into the Farplane indefinitely. What if Fagan could somehow do an anti-sending on himself in his own mind? Could the solution simply be singing the Hymn backwards? For a few moments, Fagan gathered his thoughts and concentrated on switching the Hymn's notes backwards. After a while, Fagan had it down pat and sang it to himself over and over again. He sang and sang, with every bit of feeling he could muster. Despite his mute hymn falling on deaf ears, a small beam of reddish light appeared and Fagan could once again see.
Slowly, his sense started to rush back to him. He could smell clean freshwater, fragrant flowers, and the rusted smell of dirt. He could hear a beautiful melody playing that mixed a bird's call with the soothing sound of rain hitting leaves. His eyes were filling with color. Shades of blue, white, green, and brown were jumping about in front of him. A tingling filled his limbs and his vision started to sharpen itself. After a few minutes, Fagan knew exactly where he was and exactly what his was going to do. He clenched his fists and stepped through a hazy blue barrier. His footsteps echoed off the cave-like walls as he made his way down the carved- from-stone stairs. Fagan knew that he couldn't go on like this forever, but he had a renewed life and he was going to make the most of it. Even ghosts had purposes, this Fagan now knew. And if Fagan's purpose was to fight another of his kind, then so be it. Vengeance was justice and justice was a virtue, and Fagan was determined to see that justice was served, one way or another.
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A/n: Another few months, another chapter. BUT! This one has been in the works for a while. I just finished it (and had Shad beta it; Thanks love!) yesterday, which was the same day I got back from my Senior Class Trip. We went to Universal Studios Orlando and had a blast! No apologies for this being late. I've been a busy guy. I've recently won a free ride to the college of my choice including books, I've been preparing for the Grad parties and ceremony, getting my first year in college planned with my advisor, and lazing off! So nyah.
This chapter is essentially just more plot movement, save for Fagan's death etc. I was going to do that whole thing differently and have Fagan on Nyka's side, but at the last minute, changed it to a ghostly tale of vengeance. Bwahah. Chapter 17 coming soon! ~No One