Disclaimer: The characters contained in this story are the sole property of Squaresoft. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm only "borrowing" them for the purpose of storytelling.
Epitaph
"Reading the epitaphs,
our only salvation
lies in resurrecting the dead
and burying the living."
-Paul Eldridge
He remembered the fall. Crash, bang. The wind against his face. Flailing limbs.
He remembered many times when falling was a thing he'd loathed so much. A thing he'd
give anything to forget. The things he loved, it seemed, tended to fall out of his grasp. His
mothers necklace had fallen from his hands into the street, shattering into a million pieces; She
too, had fallen and broken her legs, though Locke had known, even then, who had done the
pushing; The girl with the dark chocolate hair, the one he had loved, had fallen off the bridge,
right out of his hands; and the Esper girl had fallen through the floor of the cave. He remembered
her battered body lying there so clearly. The last, of course, that shock of pale blond hair as she
had fallen fast away from him. He could only pray that the landing had been ....., well you know
the thing about landings.
His own had been very, well, not so gentle.
Then blackness, darkness. Fading fast.
Will be alright, my son.
...You think so, mum?
Have faith, my love. Patience...
But will you come with me?
I'm afraid I've had my fair share of treasure hunting, son.
But where will I go? I don't know anywhere, mum.
I'll show you where to go. Look for me, dear. I'll be there.
How will I know where to find you ?
In the dusty road, Locke. In the cloudy sky.
And where will you go now, mum?
I'm afraid my epitaph's already been written, son.
When Locke had awoken from the cold, tragic state that had been his dream he prayed
that it had all been a nightmare. All of it, he wished it gone. No Empire; no airship; no death; no
falling......no treasure hunting. He even went so far as to wish for no Rachel. He wished that he
had not heard about the Returners or even left his home in the middle of the night some 15 years
ago. He jumped to his feat through shattered pieces of wood and dust, violently lashing out and
tossing these things from himself towards the rugged walls. Screaming bloody murder at nobody
at all. Yelling at the empty walls and struggling against the weight of the rocks that held his foot
tight to the ground. Having dislodged this, he slammed himself into the dusty soot-covered wall of
the mine shaft and bawled yet more nonsense. His whole life, it seemed, had begun to cave in.
Nothing made sense anymore and what small shred of hope and dignity he still held was severely
questionable. Emotionally and physically exhausted, he lay amongst the cold rocks and absorbed
his pain. Blood oozed from the deep wounds that he had accumulated from the fall and through
his frenzied struggle. He bit his lip in pain until he could taste the warm metallic liquid there too.
Soon the pain seized him and the world blissfully faded to white. He rested.
Don't fight the epitaph, son. It's already been written....
The sun was setting, purple-red. Locke stood stoically facing the sea. The wind on his face
felt good after the staleness, the air of the mines. The salt of the ocean had stung his wounds, but
healing required it to do so. He now felt renewed, somewhat, having washed and tended to his
wounds. Bloody stomach was still empty, though. Despite some pain and heartache, he was ready
to trudge onward. After all, what was one more loss? One more hand to let go? No, he wouldn't
linger in his pain. Onward towards new horizons was where his feet would take him, as always.
Wherever that may be.
Then there was the matter of Rachel and the fiery bird. The rebirth. Was it even worth
searching for anymore? His path thus far had been a long and weary one to travel by and he was
nearly ready to succumb to his need for rest. But no, there was no way he could ever give up
hope, if indeed there was any. That was all he had now. All he ever would have.
He picked up a stone, skipped it across the violet sea. Splash, crash, and drown. It sung
across the cold waters. Would he ever reach his destination, or simply descend beneath the waves
like this pebble? Laughingly, he turned from the ocean's reflection and scolded himself for his
metaphorical thoughts. Silly bastard. Or maybe just needing to get out of here?
Either way, he began his journey along the coastline.
And in the air, the eerie voices followed him. Traveling, wandering, looking for a home.
But like the voice of any man whose path he crossed, like the world's own warning, he never
stopped to heed them. Onward, onward.
Locke, Locke...... Where are you?
He's with me now, child.
And that would be where, exactly?
On the road to the epitaph.
Epitaph? Oh, please say it's isn't...
Epitaph leading to the sea.... the wide open blue.
I don't believe in it. I can't believe...
You cannot fight it.
I will not give in to this. Please...
Why do you hold on?
I have to. Tell me.... Where is he...
In the morning sunrise. The epitaph.
You're crazy..... you're....
His Mother. Girl, he's coming home... Home.
So he has left me, then. Long gone. Eternally.
You have my eyes, child. The sadness.
There's nothing left here for me to live for.
Darling girl, there never was.
Impetuous in nature, he had always walked alone; unafraid. Now, with nothing left to
travel towards he knew once more the finality of his wandering curse. If only there would be a
home to one day return to. Walking blindly for so long, he had grown weary of the struggle. His
never-ending journey. But even more determined now to find some possible reason for going on.
Something. But why was he running?
Locke stood atop a lonely outcrop of rocks overlooking the valley, dark. Something about
the beating pulse of night, the quiet, awakened him. Led him onward. For the first time since he
had awakened his thoughts turned to the girl. The other. The one with the soft pale hair and the
cold blue eyes. Like ice. And for a time he thought of her. Then with the struggles of the day
before him, he turned away. Away from any more pain. As if the hole left there were not so. He
laughed. Laughed until he was sick. Now he was the one numb to the feeling. For all the world,
just frozen. Ice cold.
Carry me with you, son.
Carry them all.
Lovely girl you know, I saw her. She spoke to me.
Told me she wanted a home more than anything there was.
She was a beautiful, clever girl. The saddest eyes.
Cold, cold blue.
She went on in search of Epitaph too.
The road is dusty, long.
It will bring you home.
There, for one moment, he realized where he was really headed and for once wanted to
accept it. Forget the fairy tales that had kept him going for this long. Then he thought of his
Grandmother's soft voice urgently trying to convince him of the truth in the tales she had spun for
him in front of the fireplace. And they had come true, had they not? Yes, but where was Nanna
now? Were there any tales left to hope towards? Or any left for him to even fear?
Locke stood there in darkness, black, and realized where he would go now. Where his
Mother had gone. The moon looked down above and lit his face. He saw the path stretching
beyond him. In the dusty road. The cloudy sky. Epitaph.
He was going home.
"A man travels the world over in search
of what he needs and returns home
to find it."
-George Moore
Author's Note: Locke, Locke, Locke..... how many fanfics will you star in before you retire? While I do believe that there are almost too many fanfics about Locke out there (Wait! I said "almost"!) I honestly think that there are many things that nobody has tackled yet. Locke's my favorite (male) character by far (sorry but Celes is the champion, my friends).
This story digs into Locke's past and what he was faced with upon awakening in the world of ruin. The whole psychedelic mother thing was something I feel could have likely been going through his grief-stricken mind (let's face it, the guy was going through hell here!) Also, I've never read a fanfic where any mention of his mother was given. This is something I know is obscure but I feel he had a close relationship with her in the past, which lends itself to his relationships with the female characters in the game. Also, the game gives several references to his grandmother but I haven't seen her mention in a fanfic either. His father, of whom I give a subtle reference (the one doing the pushing) , I believe wasn't a very loving person. This fact shows itself in Locke's character. I believe I've seen at least one other fanfic which shares this view.
Of course, Locke is not the type of character to speak of his past in this way, so this story brings out the things that Locke keeps hidden within himself. Anyway, that's one of my takes on Locke. Feel free to comment.
