The disclaimer from the first chapter applies throughout.
*Some ocean, shortly afterwards
Jane removed her hood and cape and gently wrapped it around her shivering, sleeping daughter. She sat back into the boat and stared at little Sarah's face for a while. Then she looked around to see only ocean, miles and miles of endless sea. The little boat had been badly damaged in the storm, so she could not control where it drifted, and they had no food and very little water. She looked down at the little girl again as she remembered the horrific events of only several hours past. She shuddered to think of what may have happened to her friends, her parents, her husband… She smiled, however, at Sarah, who groggily was sitting up.
"Mama, I'm thuwsky," complained the four-year-old girl. Jane had already made up her mind. No matter what happened to her, she would make certain that Sarah would survive. She passed the single canteen to the chubby, rosy hands.
"Don't spill," she reminded, "and don't drink very much…we need to save it."
"Alwight." The girl daintily took three sips from the canteen and returned it to her mother. "Theywe, see? I did it."
"Very good, honey," Jane took back the canteen and stowed it in a safe place, ignoring the dryness in her own throat.
"Mama?"
"Yes?"
"The big eye wasn't an eiwdillon. What was it?" Jane did not want to discuss it with her daughter.
"What makes you think it wasn't an eidolon? Silly," she ruffled the dark hair that matched her own.
"'Cause it was scawy," the child answered. "Eiwedillons ahwe fweindly. Theywe nice."
"Not all eidolons are friendly. Many are fierce."
"The eye was scawy," the child persisted. "It was a big, angwy red eye. Why did it buwun the viwadge, Mama? Mama, why?"
"I don't know, sweetheart," she rubbed her head. "I just don't know. I don't think it will be back." Jane was starting to feel afraid.
"Weally? Weally, Mama?" the little girl hugged her.
"I think so, Sarah. Mama's tired. Why don't we sleep?"
"I'm not tiwed, Mama," the girl said, hiding a yawn.
"Hehe, yes you are…" Jane started humming the song before Sarah could object. And before Jane had even made it through once, the little girl was sleeping peacefully in her arms. But the peace stayed only in her arms; Jane was afraid for little Sarah, afraid that she could not keep her alive. And she had not even begun to live…
*Meanwhile, Daines-horse Basin
The boy opened his eyes slowly to find himself staring up a large nose. He was brought fully to his senses when the mouth connected to the nose blew rancid dog breath on his face. He quickly rolled over and started to bolt, when the creature savagely grabbed him by his left arm. He just as savagely kicked the beast in the throat. Its tongue popped out, releasing his arm. He got slightly clear and looked back. Three large, ugly wolf-like things were growling at him and moving now to surround him.
"Back off, you monsters!" He yelled at them, backing off himself. One of them leaped at him, but he jump-kicked it in the face. Another one came at him from the side, but he dodged it, only to be tackled by the third. Quickly, although he did not know how it occurred to him, he grabbed each of the forelegs and split them apart, collapsing its chest. It gave a half-yelp and went limp. The boy quickly got up to face the other two, only to see them running off towards a forest. He turned his attention to his arm, grimacing at the pain he had managed not to feel until then. He carefully touched some of the torn skin, pushing it all back into place. Blood seeped out of the bite marks to trickle down his arm, but the wound itself did not seem very deep. He tore the mangled sleeve off of his shirt and wrapped it firmly but gently around his forearm. Then he looked around. He could see a river not very far off, so he made his way over to it. The atmosphere was enveloping, silencing; the Mist was damp. The clammy wetness of it clung to the boy's skin and clothing, as he made his way down the riverbank. Wearily, he dropped his face into the flowing water. This woke him up.
"Yeeeaaaaaaa!" he jolted upright, frantically shaking the water from his head. "Woooohaaaaah! That is cold !" The air seemed to swallow his words, leaving him feeling rather uneasy. Gently, he unwrapped his arm and bathed it in the clean, icy water. Then he took the torn sleeve and wiped his face, arm, and hair dry. He then tore off his other sleeve and tore it into strips. After carefully bandaging his arm with the strips of clothing, he sat for a while to collect his thoughts. This is weird, he thought. Okay, I know a lot of stuff, and I even know why, but who am I? He stared at the moving water, wishing he could see his reflection in it. Oh yeah! My name is Zidane Tribal. That's who I am. All right, now where am I? He thought about this for a while. The answer never came. Okay, I have no clue where I am. That's no good, because how can I find a civilization if I don't know where to look? Are there any civilizations? There must be. How else can I be here…How did I get here? What's going on? What's wrong with me?!
Zidane sat for a while feeling very alone and very afraid. By and by, he calmed down and tried collecting his thoughts again. It was no use; he could not remember a thing, save his name. He closed his eyes and sighed, completely confused. Maybe I'm sick? No, not likely. I'm not hungry or anything… He went back to the water and lowered his face to it, taking a few sips. It was almost too cold to drink; it made his forehead hurt with the chill. When it finally wore off, he tried thinking again, again to no avail. In utter frustration, Zidane threw his head back and screamed at the sky. The sky swallowed the scream, as if to challenge him to try again. The genome almost took it up on that challenge, but then he heard a noise that sounded like the roar of an ancient engine. He looked into the distanced sky and saw that it was indeed an engine…the engine of a flying boat. Well, that's a good sign. He watched it as it flew overhead and then broke into a run to chase after it. It moved quickly, high above the ground, and he soon feared he might loose it. He quickened his pace, paying no mind to the ache in his legs. He continued to chase it across the plains, ignoring his surroundings, the burn in his throat, and the misty chill on his skin. He followed it until he came upon a forest that had a cliff looming out of it. Panting for breath, he sorrowfully watched the airship sail over the high plateau.
Now what? Zidane was not willing to give up just yet. He went around the forest, watching the trees for more wolf things, but also watching the way the cliff seemed to rise above the Mist. Could there be a civilization up there? he wondered. His question was quickly answered, because now he could see the base of the mountain. And at the base, he saw a large door. Excitedly, he ran over to it, but only to find it locked.
"Hello?" he called out loudly, banging on the door with all his strength as he did so. No reply. "HEL-LOOOOO?!" he yelled as loud as his sore throat would permit and banged even harder with his fist. Again no one answered, and now his hand hurt. Angrily, he kicked the door so hard that some of it splintered. But there was no response from within. He sat down, sore and panting and cold. After he caught his breath, he looked back up at the cliff, his little eyebrows furrowed with determination. Fine, ignore me. I'm not giving up. He went over to the rocks next to the door and looked up far as he could see. The Mist shielded his vision from the top, so he had no clue how high it might be. Without a second thought, he loosened up his upper body and then began to scale the rock face. His left arm was sore from the beast's teeth, his right from the door pounding, and his legs from the prolonged running, yet he did not care. He continued to climb. And as the night began to settle around the mountain, chilling his already cold limbs, he still continued to climb, although not out of strength, he had long since spent that, but out of sheer willpower.
However, it was getting hard for him to see his way, and already he was sore, hungry, thirsty, and most importantly tired. Deciding it would not be wise to continue, he began to scan the rock face for a place to rest for the night. The darkness of the sun setting did not scare him, however, for some reason it was strange. He did not think about it for long though, because his body was begging him to break from his ascension. He climbed a little further and he found a horizontal cleft in between the rocks that was more than big enough for his purposes. He slid into the space to find instant relief from the chilling wind. He lay on his side, curled up with his back to the wind as exhaustion consumed him. Although he shivered and ached, Zidane fell into sleep long before he could even think.
*The Invincible: above the Forgotten Continent, the next morning
Kuja awoke to glance at the time portrayed on the display in his quarters, and he glanced to find that he had slept a whole hour and a half more than he usually would. He smiled to himself. So it's true. Knock out the competition, and you'll feel better already . He stretched his legs out of the bed, followed by his back, neck, and arms When he was standing up, he turned to fancy himself in the mirror. I am now the only angel of death, and I'm looking like it today . He made his way to the bridge to look outside. The daylight that streamed though was fresh, and though it was not real, only a projection of the real, it made Kuja feel as fresh as the new day.
A new day indeed, in which my long wait for vengeance begins to show a sprout. I do believe, Garland, that you went so far as to call him the Perfect Life-form, your ultimate work of perfection? See for yourself how easily I have defeated him! If a defect like myself can do that…what makes you so certain that you too will not pay for what you have done to me? What makes you so certain that I shall not make you feel every backhanded blow you landed on my cheek, every disgusted kick to my ribs? I shall not waste time with the repayment of your words…that would be the repetition of my lifetime. Today, Garland, I'll make a bid for my freedom…I'll begin to take back everything you have taken from me…and you cannot do a thing about it. My master, it is your turn to be helpless. As if on cue, the telecommunicator called out across the deck of the airship. He considered leaving the thing to ring; one of the first things Zidane had done once they had control over the Invincible was make it so that only they had control over the Invincible. It had been Kuja's idea, but, strangely enough, the little one needed no further prodding than the idea. The "perfect" one's sudden willingness to disobey had caught him off guard, but had emboldened Kuja to begin his plans of revenge. His thoughts were interrupted by words of rage.
Kuja! I know you are there, so answer NOW! Right, what are you going to do, strike me? Kuja turned on the telecommunicator to find Garland's angry face glaring at him.
"Here I am, see?" he bowed slightly.
"What did you do with Zidane?! He would never just leave the telecommunicator off like that! What are you hiding, you worthless defect?!" Garland demanded at the top of his lungs.
"Pardon?"
"There will be no pardons, Kuja! You had better answer me! WHERE IS ZIDANE?!" Garland's normally pallid skin was now a lovely shade of purple.
"I haven't a clue," Kuja replied after a moment.
"Haven't a clue?! Is he not on the ship with you?!"
"He is not here, nor…anywhere else on the Invincible ." Garland may have been screaming in his face, but Kuja was thoroughly enjoying himself. Even if he could be beaten for it, he would never regret it.
"What?! Where is he?! Did you not carry out my orders?!"
"We destroyed Madain Sari, Master Garland," again Kuja bowed, "and did so quite handily at that."
"So where is Zidane?!"
"I haven't a clue…except that he's not here."
"What did you do?!" Garland's veins began to stick out.
"Oh, nothing much," Kuja shrugged. "I only dropped him onto the planet, that's all. He could be anywhere. He could be dead. I haven't heard from him since last night, so I don't know." After a moment of senseless sputtering, Garland finally managed to get a word out.
"WHAT?!!"
"What do you mean, 'what?'? That was all quite plain to me."
"You dropped him onto Gaia? He's not ready to face the planet on his own! He's just a child!"
"Oh, yes…I seemed to have overlooked that."
"Overlooked it?!" Garland was obviously not fooled by Kuja's toying, but he was far too angry to toy back. And with his anger a world away…Kuja was quite pleased.
"Ah, well," he waved an acquiescent hand. "Easy come, easy go they say. It's not as if I need his help or anything…I can-"
"Easy come, easy go?! That's all you can say!! It took me five years to perfect his being, you useless idiot!"
"What? You can't just replace him?" Garland did not answer; he only stared his rage and frustration over the monitor. Was he really the best you could do? Was he really some miraculous accident you simply stumbled upon? The thought, combined with Garland's reaction or lack thereof, was simply too much for Kuja. He broke down from his calm, innocent demeanor and burst out in roaring laughter. Garland's expression rapidly darkened as Kuja struggled to gain control of himself. "Do you-hahaha-mean…to tell-hehehehaha…me…that he was… irreplaceable? Haha…a genome…irreplaceable?"
"Kuja, you had better get back here this instant."
"Hahahahaha…the little rat…was honestly-hehehaha…the best you could do?!"
"Kuja, I am warning you…" This is so rich! Incredible, really…I had no clue that he was so important to you! Oh, don't thank me with this emotional gratitude, Garland, it was a pleasure, really, a pleasure!
"I'm sorry, Garland," Kuja managed to suppress a last chuckle. "I had no idea."
"You are not sorry at all, you-you mistake! I order you to come back here at once!" A sudden little voice, a five-year-old voice, echoed through Kuja's head.
"'Make me,'" he simply quoted. A pause ensued. "Or have you realized that you can't?" Garland understood what he meant, obviously, for he said nothing for a moment.
"What," he finally started, "do you intend to do on a planet that is destined to be assimilated?"
"Exactly what you sent me here to do. I can handle this planet well on my own; I don't need the help of your precious, little piece of artwork."
"You are woefully mistaken, Kuja," Garland sneered.
"No, Garland, it is you that is woefully mistaken," Kuja challenged passionately. "And I intend to show you just how mistaken; just watch me."
"What are you trying to prove, my obnoxious little defect?"
"You'll know when it is proven," Kuja cut the transmission. "My fallen maker." It begins now. First I take back my position, now I complete the purpose that was taken from me. Next, Garland…I intend to take back my soul. I want you to call me defect when you are sprawled at my feet like the writhing snake you are. My revenge will be complete. I will not settle for less, you that I hate. Kuja returned to his view at the main screen. Worthless planet, you are not worthy of my skills. But in fact, Kuja knew that if he were going to defeat Garland, he would have to start now. It would take time…but time was something he was willing to give. He stood awhile in thought concerning the matter… those eidolons…
A/N: the next part is almost finished, so check back soon!
