Tidus had said good-bye to Auron and had hugged his mother. They hadn't spent much time together, and that was something that Tidus did regret. There was always something more to do, it seemed. Then again, he hadn't known he was going to be permitted to be have a shot at going back to living after eight months. He hadn't talked to his father, but he couldn't wait any longer, so he headed for the back part of town. There weren't many people around here, but there was a large black gate, designed with elegant patterns that were beautiful but eerie. Tipped with spires, the fence stood a shadow of what Spira had been. Dark, but living and full of life.

Standing in front of the gates was Jecht. He was leaning on them, a little carelessly. He looked almost the same as he always had. He didn't seem to care much. That was what Tidus thought until he saw the tears. Jecht hugged him for a while without a word.

"Are you really going to miss me, dad?" Tidus said, a little choked up himself. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to be the strong one for once.

"I was kind of okay with you having to come to the Farplane. It was really selfish of me, because I wanted you and I to get along, you know? I wanted to be the father I never was. . ."

Tidus couldn't hold it any longer, either. He began to cry openly. But he didn't get teased or chastised for it. He just got held.

"Don't worry, dad. I'll be back sooner or later."

"Try to make it later, Tidus. I don't want to see you for a long time. And remember, when you go back to living, remember to live." They hugged one more time, and the gate opened. Tidus took a deep breath and ran onto the darkened path.

"I'll live, dad. I'll live."

* * * * *

"So this is it, huh?" he thought to himself. He tried to keep running, heeding the warning about time's unsteady course on the path between the Farplane and Spira. He tried not to think about the upcoming challenges. What if his strength had withered? What if his wit had left him? And what if he didn't have enough character?

The path was different than any place he had been. The sky was black, but the path his feet was hitting was white, almost glowing. There were no stars in the sky, but electric red clouds. It was a creepy place. Bright white trees loomed on either side of him, and there was no mistaking where he was going. There were no turns in the wide path No rocks, nothing but white dust and black sky, and purple fruits hanging from the trees.

It was eerie, like a memory that had been so worn out that even the colors were messed up. This was a place very few people had been, and that no one would choose to belong to.

His breathing became labored, like the dark sky was pressing in on his lungs. 'Time must move very slowly here. . .' he thought. But then again, it could be moving so fast that he had to push to keep going. He pushed through the patch of heavy air, as though he was trying to push his way through a wall of concrete. It seemed so slow, but he had to keep pushing. He couldn't give it up.

With every step the air seemed heavier, and his hope was trying to wane. He knew it wasn't possible to hear Yuna's cries here, but he thought of all those things he wished he could have said. All the things she needed. He trudged stronger, still, determined to get back to her. His lungs felt as though they were going to collapse, and he was gasping for air.

The world around him was beginning to go black, blacker than it already was, his head pounded to the rhythm of his heart. The red clouds were spinning, and he felt like it was a lost cause. But he kept walking. His pace was slow. His legs ached with the effort, and he pounded on the air in front of him in a vain effort to keep moving. He wished to be back in Spira, already, with his heart pounding painfully.

The air became heavier, still, like he was trying to move forward as an enormous tidal wave was trying to pull him back. His eyes were closed in pain, and his head was pounding constantly, and the ground was spinning fast around him. He felt as though he was dying all over again, only this time it hurt. Everything was black, but his last determined thought was 'I have to move. . . forward. . .'

He groaned with the effort and finally, the world fell still.