Chapter Nine
Don't Know Why

Part One
Maybe it was all just a nightmare. Maybe soon, she'd wake up, far away from this place, in a warm and loving bed, encircled by the warm and loving arms of a man whose face was permanently etched on her heart.

Today was not that day. Today was just another miserable day in her downward-spiraling life. Today she woke up and cringed when she looked to her left and saw him lying there, sleeping, beside her.

Memories of the previous week played over and over again in her mind – the only memories that she had any more. And they were terrifying.

He found her, huddling in the front foyer closet, hugging her old brown jacket and that Yevon-forsaken note close to her heart, and he snapped. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and practically threw her into the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded in a harsh tone.

"I – I'm sorry. I just – I was trying to remember, and I saw this jacket. It – it's mine!" she stammered.

"What exactly are you trying to remember?" he sneered.

"I – I don't know!" she cried. "Something. Anything."

"What I tell you isn't enough? You don't believe me? Is that it?"

She shook her head. "No – that's not what I meant!" Tears were threatening her now, and she knew she wouldn't be able to fight them for long. "I – believe you, Seymour. I do. But I would like my mind to form recognition of you and this place on it's own."

"Well, looking at this note won't help," Seymour said, and snatched it roughly from her hand. "It's from your kidnapper. That bastard LaGuard. He tried to entice you with gifts, and when you wouldn't be swayed, he just took you."

Rikku bit her lower lip. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I really didn't know."

"Did you wonder if he was perhaps a lover of yours?" Seymour sneered.

Rikku shook her head, vehemently denying the accusation, even though it had been one that had been playing in the back of her head the whole time.

Seymour saw what was behind her swirling Al Bhed eyes and the rage in his own oculars was clear. "Don't lie to me, pedlr," he swore in Rikku's native language.

She knew it instinctively and bristled.

"I see that you remember your roots," Seymour said unkindly. "Just remember, pedlr, that you are damn lucky to be here. Your people are the most hated in Spira, because your kind brings destruction."

Grabbing her by the arm, he led her roughly down the hall and back into the bedroom. She was sobbing by the time they got there, and he had had enough.

"Stop sniveling, you ungrateful little whelp." Seymour punctuated his sentence with a swift slap across the girl's face. When this only made her cry more, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "Why don't I just give you something to cry about?"

And with that, he shoved her down onto the bed and forced himself upon her, cruelly and maliciously. When he finished with her, she rolled over and curled into a ball, in pain and on fire, and she wept silently into her pillow, until, out of sheer exhaustion, she fell asleep.

The cycle continued for days and days, until Rikku just stopped feeling altogether. Seymour was hardly ever around, and when he was, she tried to ignore him. She knew he didn't like it, and she knew it only fueled his rage, but at this point, she didn't care. She allowed him to hit her, allowed him to rape her – there was nothing left inside her any way. He had taken it all. Piece by bloody piece.

She didn't know where she was, and she didn't know who she was. But she was more certain than ever – every time she looked in the mirror and saw her once pretty, vibrant face marred by ugly black marks – that she was in the wrong place.

Part Two
"Oh, this is pointless!" Yuna lamented one evening while poring over a medical book at her kitchen table. "Without seeing her or talking to her, there is no way for us to figure out what is wrong with her. And if we don't know what's wrong with her ..."

"There's no way to fix it," Lulu finished.

"And that's only if there's something to fix, ya?" Wakka put in.

Yuna narrowed her eyes. "Are you suggesting that my cousin married the maniac of her own free will?" she said evenly.

Wakka's eyes widened a little at Yuna's sudden resolve. "Well, no, a' course not, Yuna. But what if he threatened to kill her or somethin'?"

Yuna's eyes widened. "Oh, Gods," she murmured. "Do you think that could be it, Lulu?"

Lulu looked sympathetically at the young doctor. "I don't know, Yuna. I would think that if Rikku were in that sort of situation, she would have found a way to get word to us somehow. She's bright, and very technologically savvy." She looked at Wakka apologetically. "Sorry, Wakka, but I think that our best bet is that Seymour has done something to her. We know he's big into creating drugs. His father did run that pharmaceutical company." She shrugged. "He could have easily created some kind of neurotoxin."

"Neurotoxin?" Tidus asked, blue eyes wide and, Lulu thought, slightly uncomprehending.

Lulu sighed. "There are a lot of chemicals out there, that when mixed correctly and administered correctly, have a sort of amnesia-like effect on people," she explained.

"But amnesia wears off, right?" Tidus asked, crumpling up a piece of paper and shooting it into the wastebasket.

"Not always," Yuna said. "And not if it's administered by someone. I mean, he could be re-dosing her as she sleeps." At the thought, Yuna's eyes filled with tears. "And she's with him, so she's going to believe what he tells her ..."

"Well, but if it's a drug, shouldn't there be some kind of antidote?" Tidus was still going strong.

"You can't create an antidote for something when you don't know the components," Yuna said gently.

Just then, they heard the door to Yuna's apartment open and then slam shut. "Please, Gods, tell me that somebody has come up with something." Auron's rough voice preceded him into the kitchen.

Yuna forced a tiny half-smile when he entered. He looked positively wretched. He was pale, and had bags under his eyes, and he hadn't shaved in a few days. "Without knowing what we're working with, there's nothing that I can do," she said apologetically.

Auron just shook his head. "What about leads on the whereabouts of Seymour?" he asked Lulu.

"We've got people from every police department scouring every inch of Spira even as we speak. If they find something, then they will let Wakka and I know," Lulu said, trying to keep an even tone. "Look, I know that it's hard. It's hard on all of us. But there's nothing we can do right now, but wait. We know that Seymour is after you. He won't stay hidden for long."

"Right!" Yuna said, trying to sound light. "I mean, if she gets sick or something, I'm sure he'll take her to a hospital, if only to alert you."

Tidus looked confused again. "So, now we want Rikku to get sick?" he asked.

Lulu shook her head in exasperation. "I swear ..." she muttered to herself. "He's all yours, Yuna." She turned to Wakka. "Could you go back to the office and see if we've gotten any faxes?"

"Sure thing, Lu," Wakka said. "Where are you goin'?"

Lulu sighed. "Home. I haven't slept more than three hours at a time for the past month." She turned to Auron. "Will you be all right?"

Auron nodded. "I'll be fine."

She smiled slightly. "Okay. Yuna, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Let me know if you hear anything."

Yuna nodded. "Of course."

One by one, everyone left the apartment, until only Tidus and Yuna remained. "Well, I guess I should get going too," Tidus said reluctantly. He always hated this part of the night, when they said goodbye, and he left her there alone. But she wasn't ready to take the next step with him, not yet, anyway, and he respected her enough to wait. She was worth waiting for.

"Wait," Yuna said, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to her. "Stay."

Tidus looked at her, eyes full of questions. "Yuna? Are you sure?"

Yuna nodded. "This whole – thing – has made me realize that life is too short and too precious to waste. Because you could be here one day, and the next – you could be gone." She pulled him to her until their lips met. "I want to cherish every moment that I have with you. So stay."

"Well, then," Tidus said. He took her delicate face in his hands and looked her deeply in the eyes. "Cherish me, Yuna. And I'll cherish you."

Part Three
Tromell was tired of it. He had worked for Seymour's father, Jyscal before That Which Is Not Spoken Of happened. Jyscal Guado had been a good, fair man, but he had never been the same since the accident that killed his wife.

Tromell supposed that that was when things started changing. Seymour had been a good son, and he had loved his mother deeply. When his parents were in the accident, and his mother had died, Seymour had blamed Jyscal. Seymour had been only nine at the time, but he had carried that heavy resentment for his father for a long time.

That resentment eventually turned into full-blown hatred, until one day, only a few years ago, that Seymour did the unthinkable.

That Which Is Not Spoken Of.

Afterwards, he had forced Tromell to stay and work for him. Well, more like threatened Tromell. And Tromell, having seen what Seymour was capable of, had stayed.

And now he felt like a coward and a failure. He had failed Jyscal, who had been his dearest friend. And he had failed Emmeline, Seymour's mother, for he had sworn to look after her son.

And now, there was this girl. This dainty, pretty little thing who he had seen looking so vibrant and full of life before. Now when he saw her, his heart nearly broke. She was merely a shell of the girl she had been. A bruised, battered, bloody shell.

She, too, had learned that it was futile to try and fight Seymour. And the things he did to her – Tromell could not even begin to understand. It made what he had done to his father look benign.

Tromell knew he had to stop it, somehow, but he was completely powerless against the madman. He sat and prayed every night for the strength to stop Seymour.

And one night, the idea came to him. It was so simple, and he could remain completely blameless. Seymour would never have to know who had given him away.

And Rikku would be safe and home. And maybe Auron LaGuard could stop Seymour once and for all.

These were Tromell's thoughts as he sat at his desk late one night and composed his letter ...

A/N: Well, fear not, my beloved readers. It may seem as though this is rolling to a close -- but it's not. It's very very very far from over. The muse is definitely with me right now and I have a lot of things I still want to do with this -- I haven't decided how to end it yet. I am a big fan of happy endings, but I also like angsty endings too. But the end isn't near, so I have a lot of time to work it out in my head. R&R please! XD