Notes: Dialogue of the "sphere recording" is lifted from the FFX US release. Minor changes were made. Because of the formality of my Auron characterization, I switched a couple of words from contractions to full words. Other than that, it's verbatim.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Braska's Journey
The Moonflow – Chapter One - Vows
The sun beat down through a cloudless sky. The still blue water of the Moonflow acted like a mirror, reflecting the light and intensifying its rays. In other circumstances, it might have been a lovely crossing. However, these were not other circumstances.
Auron was seething with checked rage. Every time his temper threatened to get the better of him, he put more energy into his task. That task was rowing.
For two hours now Auron had been rowing. Before that, he had been sitting on Jecht to stop the drunken idiot from attacking a defenseless shoopuf. The blitzer, full of himself and alcohol, had insisted on using his sword to fight fiends as they traveled the road from Guadosalam. He had generally made a fool of himself, flailing the red and silver hooked blade at everything that appeared in the path and doing little or no damage in the process. It was sheer luck that the trio managed to get to the launch at all.
When they reached the Moonflow and Jecht saw the shoopuf walking toward the loading dock, he launched into action. Sword out, he leapt at the poor beast - startling both it and the driver. When the incident drew to a close, animal had two huge gashes in its right rear leg, the lift had been crushed, and several bystanders were injured. In spite of Braska's healing spells, the beast would still require at least a week of recovery time. Not only had Braska depleting his magical energy healing the animal and the injured people but he used his only sleeping potion to stop Jecht's struggles before giving the shoopuf handler every last gil he had in reparation. The episode left them next to penniless and stranded them on the wrong side of the water – along with a couple dozen other travelers; all of whom were quite vocal in their displeasure. A couple of young men muttered something about "teaching that jerk a lesson" and neither Braska nor Auron thought it prudent to wait around.
Auron left Braska and Jecht at the launch and went in search of another form of transport. His venture turned up a rickety fishing boat once capable of seating four half submerged in water near a small footbridge. As Jecht slept on, Auron and Braska flipped the vessel upside down and used some of the silica mud along the shoreline to patch the leaks in the hull. Once the exterior of the boat was completely covered in muck, Braska cast a low-level fire spell to heat the stuff, creating a glasslike coating. A test float of the boat found only a few small leaks remaining. Braska then assisted Auron in loading Jecht and their packs into the small craft. It was well past noon when they set off for the opposite shore.
Only able to find one oar, Auron sat on the frontmost bench and rowed. The mindless monotony of the task left plenty of time for him to think about other things. Things like Jecht and how irresponsible, reckless, thoughtless, selfish, and useless the blitzer was.
//The man is nothing more than trouble on two legs! Two strokes right, switch sides. If I "accidentally" strike Jecht while attacking a fiend, will Braska know? Two strokes left, switch sides. Two strokes right, switch sides. Of course he will know. Two strokes left, switch sides.//
"Auron?"
"Yes, Braska."
"Would you like me to row for a while?" Braska had asked this question several times in the last two hours. Auron noted that the Summoner did so when he seemed the most irritated. He surmised that the Call was telling Braska exactly how angry he was and that his friend was attempting to play mediator.
The response was curt. "No."
Auron had not said a word about Jecht's behavior. It was pointless to do so. Braska was not going to listen to his advice regarding Jecht so, instead, he simply seethed and put his back into rowing.
The day was unseasonably warm for the time of year. Auron had long since abandoned the top of his robe and left it to hang from his weapons belt. The hot sun practically cooked him – trapped as he was inside the heavy boiled leather of his breastplate - as he propelled the craft over the water toward the opposite shore. Sweat trickled slowly down his back causing an irritating need to scratch.
He wanted nothing more than the day to come to a swift end.
------------------------
Jecht's body refused to allow the potion to work any longer. The large amount of ale he'd had wasn't sitting well and the situation was compounded by the fact that the sun was frying him. Auron's tackle had sent him careening into a tent support before he had been pinned to the dusty ground. The result wasn't pretty no matter how you viewed it.
He groaned and shifted. The left side of his face was wet. When he lifted his aching head slightly and opened his eyes, he found the source; a puddle water leaking inside the bottom of a boat.
"Jecht?"
Braska's voice pounded in his head. The swaying motion of the boat increased.
"Yeah."
The dark red of the bottom row of petals on Braska's robe moved closer to Jecht's nose. A boot tip peeked out from under the fabric.
"Are you all right?"
The boat lurched. Jecht groaned and his stomach flipped.
"No. I think I'm gonna be sick."
It took less than four seconds for Jecht to heave. He hardly had time to hang his head over the side of the small craft. Retching up the contents of his stomach – which was precious little aside from alcohol – Jecht felt like he might die. Part of him wished he would. He could remember more than usual about how stupid he'd been. He clearly recalled flailing his sword around and making an ass of himself. There were vivid memories of Auron's frowning face as he held the weapon like a bat and swatted playfully at the wasps.
Then there was that shoopuf.
"Braska," Jecht mumbled between heaves, "I'm sorry."
Braska sighed and shifted slightly on his bench. A comforting hand reached out and patted Jecht lightly on his sunburned back.
"I know."
-----------
After Jecht vomited the contents of his stomach into the Moonflow, he promptly passed out. Auron was, quite frankly, thankful. Between the sound of the man's retching and the effusive apologies, Auron thought his own stomach might turn.
Upon reaching the opposite shore Auron hopped out of the craft, wading in the water up to his knees, and drug it up on the bank. Braska handed the packs over the side. Finally, when there was nothing left in the boat but Jecht, Auron unceremoniously flipped thing over – depositing the man in a sodden clump of moon lilies and long grass.
Jecht let out little more than a grunt and slept on.
"Auron, do you have to be so unkind to the man?"
Auron ignored Braska's admonishment and returned to the boat. "I will take the boat down to the other launch area. I am sure there are plenty of stranded people there as well."
Braska frowned. "At some point we are going to have to discuss this."
Auron was already knee deep in water and pulling the craft along behind him. He finally lost his temper. "Then take it up with him! I should think the solution to be quite simple. Leave him at a temple or insist he stop drinking!"
Braska settled next to the packs and sighed. Rubbing his face with his hands, he tried to chase away the headache that had developed since leaving the opposite shore. The pain in his head was a direct result of continuing to remain awake when his body required rest. He had overextended himself and no longer had any ether or stim tablets to give him a boost. What he needed was a full night of rest – one he was not likely to get now that they had spent half the day crossing the water. It was still a long way to Djose temple. If they pushed through the night they might make it by morning, but Braska knew he was far too tired to attempt such a thing.
A hand moved absently to a pack and fished within. Several items were pulled from the bag before Braska found what he sought. The skin of a green apple snapped between his teeth while he stared at Jecht's sleeping form.
**Auron is right. I have to do something.**
The question was how to talk to Jecht. The man was clearly miserable and Braska's heart went out to him.
**Would I be so different in his place? Would Auron?**
Braska considered the incident with the shoopuf to be at least partly his fault. Jecht had been confronted with plenty of dangerous creatures since coming to Spira. How could the man have known the thing was harmless? As he nibbled at the apple, Braska admonished himself for spending so little time with Jecht in Guadosalam – for upsetting him and for not explaining that the shoopuf was a means of transport. If they had stayed another night instead of moving on after going to the Farplane the entire situation might have been avoided.
Finished with his snack, Braska abandoned the apple core to the tall grass. He looked, one final time, through Auron's travel pack in hope of finding something he might take for his headache and came up wanting. He stood up and walked down toward the waterline.
The sun was nearly set and the pyreflies would soon be out in force. It had been many years since Braska had traveled here in the company of his parents – picking moonberries and hunting for mushrooms – but in some ways it felt like yesterday. A pang of sorrow filled his heart and he wondered where their Journey had ended.
**How many Aeons did mother gather before she died? Was father with her at the end?**
The crunch of boots on gravel announced Auron's return. The warrior walked over to the packs and sullenly began stuffing the items Braska removed back in the bag. "I suggest we pack up and get as far as we can before full dark. When the next group of people arrives from the other shore, they are sure to mention that Jecht is the reason the shoopuf is injured."
"I was hoping to stay a little while longer – to watch the pyreflies," Braska said wistfully. "It's been so many years."
Auron looked over at his friend standing by the water. Braska's gaze was focused off into the distance. Even if the Call had not made it clear how tired and sad he was, Auron would have known. The set of Braska's shoulders was enough of a giveaway.
The sunset gave way to dim twilight and the keening lights began to gather on the water, casting their unearthly glow. Auron absently hefted a recording sphere in his hand. It was among the many items that had been taken from the bag. When he glanced down at it, he noticed the small ready light was glowing. On impulse, he lifted it slightly and then turned it to the right to capture Braska looking out over the Moonflow.
In moments like this, when he would watch his friend in silent contemplation, Auron always felt a strange sense of awe. There was something so different about Braska – regal and kind. It had been there that first night on the Highbridge when Auron had found the man in the company of Al Bhed all those years ago. There was an almost magnetic quality about Braska's personality – a thing that Auron simply couldn't describe in words. He was often reminded of the Maester Umaro in those moments. His mind flashed back to the day of his mother's sending and the vision of Umaro spinning gracefully on a tower of water as the sun fell into Bevelle harbor. He had had that same feeling then.
Jecht grunted and moved.
The spell lifted. Auron turned to look at the man lying in the grass and frowned. The sphere moved with him. He abruptly switched the thing off.
"He will be awake soon." Braska spoke without turning.
Auron walked over and stood close to Jecht. He could feel his anger welling as he looked at the man. But, as he stood there looking, he also felt something he never had before. He felt pity. He turned the sphere back on.
Jecht's eyes opened. "What are you shooting me for?"
"So you do not do anything stupid again." Auron didn't try to hide his irritation. "I cannot believe you attacked that shoopuf. Lord Braska had to pay the handler for damages from his own travel money!"
"I said I was sorry." Jecht continued to lie on the damp ground. He looked like hell. "It's never gonna happen again. I promise."
"Oh. A Promise?" Auron couldn't help his sarcasm. He'd heard Jecht apologize to Braska before and it certainly hadn't stopped the man from getting drunk again the next day. "One which you will forget come tomorrow."
"Auron, please. He did apologize." Braska tried to put a stop to the conversation before it got out of hand. The last thing he needed now was his Guardians to fight. "He knows he was wrong."
Jecht scowled and jumped to his feet. "That's it. The only thing I drink from now on is shoopuf milk!"
Auron couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was about to say so when Braska spoke up. Surprised, both Auron and the sphere moved.
"We're on a Journey to fight Sin and save Spira, right?" Jecht planted his feet firmly apart in an effort to keep the world from spinning. "If I keep screwin' up and makin' a fool of myself…my wife and kid are never gonna forgive me."
Jecht's final words were full of remorse and self-recrimination. Once again, someone else was paying for his mistakes. In Zanarkand it had been his wife and son. Now it was Braska. Bowing his head, he shut his eyes against the tears he felt welling. There was no way he was going to let Auron see him cry.
~~All the trouble I cause. Why does he keep me around? If it had been me, I'd have left me in a cell to rot.~~
Auron fumbled awkwardly at the sphere, unsure what to do. The Call fed him a flood of satisfaction from Braska – a feeling of pride. He could see the shame on Jecht's face and realized how truly contrite the man was. The whole situation felt wrong now.
"That's on the record." Auron said it as though the fact he'd recorded the moment made a difference, but he knew that it didn't. Though he didn't know if he trusted the word of a lying drunk, he knew a vow when he heard one.
He shut off the sphere.
Jecht dug in his pocket and extended his hand. A silver, a brass, and a few coppers comprised the lot. The expression on his face was earnest. "I still got a few of those coins left. It ain't much, Braska, but here."
Braska smiled softly. "No, Jecht. You keep it. I gave it to you to do with as you wished."
"If you truly want to be of help, Jecht, you would use those coins to get an ether," Auron interjected.
"Auron, really. I am fine. All I need is some rest."
"Ok. One ether, commin' right up!" Jecht went over and picked up two of the packs, grateful to have the distraction of a purpose. He started back toward the launch area and then stopped. "Uh, Auron. How much should I pay? I mean, you always talk people down and I…"
Auron picked up the other pack. "We will go together. There is a man named O'aka. His daughter was a Summoner and he sometimes gives discounts."
Braska followed along behind.
-----------------
After haggling with O'aka, the group started down the road. Little more than a well-worn footpath, it wound its way through lush green forests, rolling hills of long grass, and small clusters of farm fields. The south bank of the Moonflow was the breadbasket of the Djose continent and produced more than seventy percent of the agricultural production in Spira. As a result, Monks and Crusaders stationed at the Djose Garrison always heavily patrolled the South Bank road to ensure the safety of the farmers, their crops, and their livestock. Auron, commander of that garrison for almost two years, was confident they would encounter little trouble.
They camped close to the road. Auron picked a location often used by the troops. He built a fire in the ring of stones and made sure to hail and greet the patrols that passed. Many of them knew Auron from his days at the garrison and were excited to see him.
Braska used the light from the fire to his advantage. Picking around in the trees and long grass near the campsite he returned with mushrooms, tubers, and a few herbs. Added to rice and water in a pot they soon became soup. While Jecht had eaten less rustic fare, there was something comforting about the broth. When asked about it, Braska smiled and said that he'd added a few "special" ingredients he knew would sooth an upset stomach.
It wasn't long before Auron brought up watch. Braska insisted on taking first shift and it elicited a frown from the warrior.
"Lord, you should take the ether and rest. I can manage."
"I would rather take first watch, Auron. You are tired from rowing and, if I take the ether now, I may not wake for a later shift. This way, you and Jecht may rest and I will be able to sleep uninterrupted."
Jecht wondered for a moment if it would turn into another argument, but Auron simply nodded his agreement and moved to the far side of the fire. In a matter of moments, he was covered in his blanket and settling down to sleep.
"Braska, I'm not really that tired. My head doesn't feel so great, but I did sleep most of the day." Jecht sounded apologetic. "How about I take second watch? Let Auron sleep."
"I am sure he will appreciate that." Braska refilled his bowl, put a lid back on the remains of the soup, and placed the pot back on the hot coals.
The blitzer frowned slightly. He felt a need to talk but wasn't sure where to start. He could count on two hands the number of times he'd ever really apologized to someone when he was sober. If you only counted the times he'd really meant what he said, you could have used only one. Jecht just wasn't that kind of guy. He wasn't one of those people that made a lot of promises or knew the right things to say. Sure, he could fast talk himself out of a jam, into a woman's bed, or trash talk the opposing team with the best of them but when it came to really expressing honest emotion, Jecht was rather at a loss.
He fished around in his pack, needing something to do with his hands. When nervous, or bored, he fidgeted – and right now he was nervous. As he went through the pack, his frown deepened a bit. "Hey, Braska, I'm missin' a couple of spheres."
"Oh? Perhaps they are in one of the other packs." Braska took another sip from the small lacquer bowl in his hands. "We will look for them once we get to the temple."
Jecht stuffed items in and out of the small travel bag. Finally, he spoke. "Look, Braska, I really am sorry. I didn't know…"
"Jecht, please. I accept your apologies but consider the fault my own. You certainly cannot be held entirely responsible for the situation. It is likely my fault that you are here and not home with your family. I upset you. I should have noticed your…state before we left Guadosalam. I should have told you about the shoopuf." Braska sighed deeply. "I cannot imagine how I would feel if our situations were reversed and I certainly do not blame you for your reaction."
Shaking his head, Jecht looked down at the bag in his lap. "I'm not gonna say I understand all this Yevon stuff. But I gotta tell ya, Braska, your God wouldn't pick somebody like me."
"Why do you say that?" Braska leaned forward slightly.
"I'm no hero. I'm just a blitz player. Sure, they call me the greatest to ever play the game – and I'm not gonna say I'm not. I am. But that's about all I'm good for. My wife, I don't know how she puts up with me. My kid hates me…"
"Oh Jecht, surely you exaggerate."
"Tidus hates me. Can't say I blame him. I'm never home. When I am his mom and I are either fighting or making up." Jecht shrugged. "Fact is that things haven't been going so well with my game either. It's been years since I had a really great season."
"Well, I understand that happens in the sport. While I haven't played in years, I still follow my favorite team. Injuries and changes on the roster have an effect on everyone…"
Jecht rubbed at the back of his neck, searching for words. "I'm trying to say that this drinkin' thing – it's nothing new."
"Oh."
"I got a problem, Braska. Even my kid knows I got a problem. The press says I'm washed up, that I aughta retire. I'm just a drunk and past my prime. My coach would probably bench me if I didn't own the team."
Braska wasn't quite sure what to say. "Jecht, you don't have to explain yourself to me."
"Yes I do." Jecht looked up across the fire. "I may not know much about this place, but I can tell you went out on a limb for me. If the funny looks you get when you introduce me aren't enough," he pointed a finger at Auron's sleeping back, "then the look on his face says it all."
"Auron is simply protective of me, that is all."
"Well, he should be. He's right. I'm a no good drunk."
Jecht fell quiet. Braska put down his soup bowl and folded his hands together in his lap, thinking. The fire popped and crackled, its flames casting a strange reddish glow that made the blitzer's eyes seem sunken and haunted.
"I meant what I said, Braska. I don't wanna drink anymore. It's not just the shoopuf – it's a lot of things. I saw how Yuna looked at you. Proud. I want Tidus to look at me like that. I want him to know his old man is worth somethin' – that I did somethin' more with my life than drink and showboat and kick a ball. Will you help me?"
Braska stood up and moved around the fire. He stood in front of Jecht, looking down on the man. Jecht's face was lit with earnest intent. "We all need a little help sometimes, Jecht. It takes a wise man to admit it." He extended his right hand down and smiled softly. "We will help one another. You will help me to obtain the Final Aeon and I will help you to get home to your son."
Jecht reached up and clasped Braska's hand in his own. He flashed a grin. "I dunno if that's a fair trade. Seems to me you'd be a richer man without me along. Auron sure would be happier."
"I suppose." Braska chuckled. "But I think I am right about you, Jecht. I think you are exactly the sort of man my God would send."
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~