I'm dead.
Only two little words, so why are they so hard to say? Maybe because I look into her eyes and see trust, love and hope. Maybe because I feel that if I tell her this most secret of secrets her eyes will become dull and her feelings for me disintegrate into nothingness, mere pyreflies on the winds of time. I underestimate her I know, underestimate the bond we once shared, the bond I hope that still lingers on deep within her. Her initial anger has shown she still cares, but is it love or mere relief? I am no longer the man I was, for who could love me as I am now? Older, more rugged and physically scarred with the memory of my death. It will never allow me to forget. I never want to forget, it keeps me sane.
I admit my reasons for accompanying the young summoner on her pilgrimage were purely selfish. The small chance that I might see my only reason for still walking the lands of Spira was lure enough to ensure my Guardianship. Despite the news of her death, for some reason my hope still remained. I journeyed under the pretence of promise. I fought for her. Perhaps I felt that I owed some duty to my wife for leaving her so selfishly and so that is why I protect her family. I realise now that it is not the case. I protect our family. Back at my rightful place at her side my heart sings, the barriers I spent a decade building and reinforcing around my breaking heart quickly broken by small gestures. A light touch, a loving word reduces me to puerile glee. The boy from Zanarkand is amused and I do not have the will to care.
Her verdant stare purposely avoids my own russet gaze when I question her about the past; it seems she too has secrets she wishes to keep clandestine. She keeps the questions at bay with the smile that could lull wild beasts into submission; its effect on me, one already intoxicated by her very presence, is even more impressive. I bow to her will without dispute or struggle. The legendary Guardian is no match for the wiles of his woman. Jecht would laugh at me now if he weren't trapped as the harbinger. For all my younger colleagues believe I willing lead the summoner to her death, the truth is I shall not stand idly by and watch more lives be destroyed. Sin will fall, but not at the cost of the summoner. We will find another way.
I cannot help but feel the sharp stab of jealousy as I watch her interact with Wakka and the others. I do not dispute the love she holds for me, but still the insecurity remains, bred of lifetime of hardship. Can they give her something I cannot? I doubt I can provide her with the children we both desire, all I can offer to her is my heart, my love, my protection for a lifetime and beyond. Is that enough? I am fearful my inadequacies will drive her from my arms into those of another. But what is love and life without imperfections? They are what make us unique, individual in a sea of faces. This is my only comfort.
I have to laugh as I look back, lest the tears begin to fall freely. The day I do not allow her eyes to sway my decision, the day my decisiveness stands by me is the day she breaks. The day she tells me the secrets that have been haunting her. My heart stops beating and the blood rushing through my veins stills and turns to ice. Two words and I understand. Two words and I sympathise with the plight that has blighted her existence for years. Two words and I despise myself more than I had thought possible.
I'm dead.
Doesn't she know I was meant to be the one with the shocking revelations? Doesn't she know she is meant to be alive and well? Doesn't she know I weep for the path she chose? It was not meant to be this way. I would have done anything, given my life if necessary to dissuade her from the path of the summoner. But I did give my life and it was that decision that contributed to her demise. I listen to how she died and feel the chilled fingertips of déjà vu stroke gently up my spine. Yunalesca. The revenge I plotted as a young man is nothing compared to the fiery inferno of ire that fuels me now. I will avenge us all, my love. For all the lives she has destroyed, all the futures and dreams the witch has snatched devoid of mercy she shall pay.
Although my horror must have been clear to her, she is admirably calm as I trade my secret for hers. She doesn't flinch as I explain to her my condition mirrors her own, my death years before hers also by the hand of Yunalesca. Perhaps because she has spent the last ten years believing I was dead, the notion that I am unsent is not too far a leap for her rational mind to comprehend. I on the other hand had always imagined her remarried with children. Not unsent and living a life of solitude. She was always too vibrant, too alive for that. Though life may have deserted us, we have not deserted life. The spark, the sheer pleasure of being still remains.
She looks up at me through a veil of tears, the anguish clear and plain to see, even to one as clueless as I. I dread to ask the question, fearful of the answer should I allow her pain to surface. Despite my hesitation I press on and am rewarded with a disclosure that makes me sink to my knees. While I protected her father and died in vain she carried my child. My son. I have a son. I am a father. I repeat these words to myself, unable to keep the childish joy from my face. So enraptured am I with the news I do not notice as she begins to keen, her body shaking from the great, wracking sobs. When the first flush of exultation wears off I turn to her, a frown creasing my brow. I wonder to myself what can possibly be wrong when everything is so right with the world? We are a family and despite death we can raise our child together.
He's dead.
Fate is cruel. To learn you have an heir only to have him snatched back mere moments later is sadistic in the extreme. I shake my head, reeling; unable to believe that what had been so perfect but minutes before has been crushed underfoot by the ruin that is destiny. To numb the pain we find solace in each other's embrace, a touch infinitely more comforting than words. The touch that says I'm sorry. The caress that tells you it wasn't your fault. The kiss that screams I love you. The lovemaking that whispers I'm here. I adore you. We'll never be parted again. Promises of skin made good by the hearts of lovers, of soul mates.
We don't need words. Our actions speak for us. Together we can conquer armies and move mountains. Without her I am lost. Death cannot separate us. Love brings us together. As I lie by her side, lost in her eyes, one thought prevails. No matter what, I won't fail you again. You have my word.
A/N: Bit shorter than last time, but I hope is still ok. Leave me a review! Is my birthday! Yay!