Standard Disclaimer. I do not own FFX or the characters in it. They are owned by Square-Enix. I do own this story, and my original characters. The song "Over My Head" was written by Christine McVie, performed by Fleetwood Mac, "You Have to Hurt" was written by Frank Musker and Dominic King, performed by Carly Simon, and "Diamonds and Rust" was written and performed by Joan Baez, and I don't own them, either.

Between Yuna's announcement, and Rikku's whining, no one wanted to camp on the Thunder Plains, so they pushed on to reach the edge of the Macalania Woods, camping for the night just inside. The transition areas made good campgrounds, the fiends were less numerous, and it was possible to camp with only one guard per shift in the night. As usual the guard shifts are arranged so that Auron and Kimahri had the second and third shifts, as they were less affected by the broken night's sleep than the others. After two nights without sleep, even Auron was weary. He rested against a tree, not even intending to close his eye, but slept deeply during the first watch of the night. His own watch was uneventful, and he woke Kimahri for the third shift, to report that it had been a quiet night. He laid down in his bedroll after Kimahri took up the watch, but the earlier rest and some hours of guard duty had left him too alert for easy slumber. Lying awake, staring at the canopy of trees, he knew that he no longer needed the excuse of the drink to lower the barrier to his memories, that he was now willing to face the pain at the end, if it meant he could relive the sweetness of the journey.

…Zanarkand…Five years ago

In memory, Auron thought that those might have been some of the longest days he had ever endured, not helped by the fact that he was conscious for most of the time. Sleep eluded him, and when he did catch it, he dreamed of her. Awake, he alternately berated himself for even considering any further involvement, and counting down the time until he saw her again. What could I possibly have to offer this woman? I am no longer even alive. She is so very alive. So beautiful. So desirable. I want her. I want to pursue this, to pursue her. I should not. How long is it until…

The night before Mercy's next performance, he finally fell into a deep sleep, and had a very unusual dream, if it truly was a dream. In the dream, he heard a familiar voice, but one he couldn't quite recognize. The same voice he had heard the night he had met her. The voice spoke out of the darkness, telling him, "Guardian, in five years, her 'world' will be destroyed by Sin, and many of the people in it will die, possibly including your lady. Guardian, will your status matter in the face of so much destruction? Let the lady choose."

Auron woke with his heart pounding. I know that voice. Who is it? Damn! More awake, he considered the words instead of the origin. The speaker is right. In five years, Sin will return. Jecht will be back to take the boy to Spira. Take me, too, to keep the boy safe a while longer. Jecht's next visit will wreck havoc on this Zanarkand, killing many. It did not have to, but I know it will. Jecht will need to reach Tidus inside the city. And, by then, he will no longer have enough control to prevent Sin from ruining the city and killing many of its citizens in the process. I know the voice was right about Mercy, too. This isn't about a lifetime; this is about five years, no more, whatever I might wish for, for her. Life as she knows it will end when Sin comes, even if she survives the destruction. I could walk away from her, now, and never know if it was a better choice for her, or if she spent the next five years alone, and then didn't survive. Or, if she would meet someone else tomorrow, if I walked away now. But my gut burns at the thought of either road. I can't decide which is worse. Regret walks down either path. Better to continue to see her, be with her. It's what I want, in any case. But then I will have to find a way to tell her everything, and let her choose. He saw the clock on the wall. Four in the morning. I might as well get a little more sleep. I will see her tonight. To hell with everything else.

Her week wasn't any better, or any faster. She was busy, but it didn't keep her from thinking about Auron, wondering what was happening to her. What was happening between them. Secondnight, as usual, she went to Daf's place so they could practice their music. He wanted to know what happened when she and Auron left the club together. She told her brother the abridged version of events, but he could see that she was keyed up, alive again. He thought that it was good for her, even if she might get hurt in the end. But he hoped that things might work out for her this time. Although Dafydd was not happy to discover that Auron left her outside the building that night. He thought that if the man was really interested he should take better care of her than that.Her brother would just have to make sure of it.

After their usual pre-concert dinner and wrangle about a play list, she and Daf got to the club and signed up for a slot, one that should have them onstage around half past nine. Mercy had to change in a curtained booth in the Green Room and get a stage-face on. At a little after eight, she came out to look over the audience. Yes! Auron, as seemed usual, had found a second row table. She grinned impishly at him. His lips quirked up slightly in response, as though he were suppressing a smirk. She decided to duck back inside the Green Room before she made a complete ass of herself.

She and Daf were onstage at a little after half past nine. The opening song was 'Over my head'. As she sang, "I'm over my head, but it sure feels nice," he thought, well, that's only fair. I don't have much experience at this, whatever this is turning out to be. Casual encounters, yes. This, no. We are both in over our heads, it seems.

The second number was about an older woman resisting the impulse to give advice about love to a younger one, but the chorus meant something more when he heard her sing it:

You have to hurt - to understand
You have to get by the best you can
Until you hurt - until you cry
You won't know about love
And the reason why
You have to hurt

She'd been hurt, he could see it on her face, hear it in her voice as she sang the words, and it was clear that she understood just how much life could hurt, not just love. But she seemed to be opening herself be hurt again. He felt a sense of connection, that here was a woman who might understand some of what he had experienced, the loss, the pain. Maybe it is time.

She was trying to tell him something, in the music. It was why she had chosen those particular songs for tonight. She was in over her head, and she knew it. It would be safer to back away now. But safe didn't set your heart on fire, did it?

One last time, she sang for the specters of her own past.

I'll be damned, here comes your ghost again
But that's not unusual
It's just that the moon is full
And you decided to call

She let the memory come; walking into Tomas' apartment to surprise him one afternoon six years ago, and discovering herself in the midst of a cliché, her lover in the arms of another woman. She had walked away, and never looked back. And hadn't bothered to look at another man, until Auron walked into that coffeehouse five nights ago.

And if you're offering me diamonds and rust, I've already paid
But we both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust
Yes we both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust

Mercy looked at Auron now and thought, but like the song said, I've already paid. I know this man might break my heart. It's a risk. But…maybe it's time for me to take it.

There were two more songs to go now. She saw Auron write something on a napkin, then he walked up and handed it to her. She held it between her fingers and waited for a Dafydd's guitar solo to read it. "Please sing Seven Wonders, Auron," was written on the scrap. I'd better get an explanation later, she thought. She picked up the end of the song, showed Daf the paper while he adjusted the tuning on his guitar for the last number. He shrugged, looked over at the machine that did the back up instrumentals and nodded. They could do the song if she wanted. She nodded back, and moved to center stage and announced, "We'll close with Seven Wonders." Auron mouthed the words "Thank you" to her silently, as she stuck the paper into a tiny pocket in her waistband. I'm going to keep the damn thing, I just know it.

After they finished the song, they said goodnight to the audience and left the stage. She went straight to Auron's table. The extra chair was out and the water was waiting. As soon as she had taken some of the water, he asked her "Do you want to leave?"
"Yes, please. Just let me get my stuff." She was as eager to get out of there as he was.
This time, while she scrubbed her face, Dafydd stepped out into the hall to confront the larger man. He started in on Auron with no preamble. "Don't you dare leave her outside the building this time, do you hear? Take her to her own door from now on." Properly chastised by the man's obvious care for his sister, Auron replied, "It won't happen again."
Mercy stepped out into something that looked like it was about to get ugly. "Excuse me, do you two even know each other?" she began, standing braced, with her hands on her hips, intending to either start, or stop, a fight.
Dafydd, now somewhat sheepish, responded, "I don't believe we've been introduced, now that you mention it," which allowed the air to clear.
Mercy made the introductions, and the two men shook hands with something more like respect than challenge. At least it's progress, she thought. "Daf," she started to say.
"I know, I know, take your stuff home with me and bring it to dinner next time. Sure, Sis, no problem."
"Thanks, Daf."
To Auron, Dafydd made one last shot, "Remember what you said."
"Yes," Auron replied respectfully.

Mercy naturally fell in on Auron's right as they walked away. Just as naturally, he laced his fingers with hers. "What was that all about?" she queried.
"Your brother was reminding me that I was remiss in not seeing you to your own door the other night. He was correct. I apologize."
She smiled up at him. "Then see to it that it doesn't happen again."
His grin back had a wicked gleam that sent her heart racing. " I assure you, my lady, it will never happen again." He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, causing flickers of heat to shoot up her arm.

They went to a neighborhood place she knew, on a direct line from the stadium club to her apartment. She needed the liquid on her parched throat, but the place was a little too crowded for any serious conversation. She did not want to ask any of the questions that were troubling her mind in this very public place. There were just too many potential listeners.

Auron was in a quandary; he wanted to tell her more about himself, but how? His Spira didn't quite match her Zanarkand, and she would catch that, quicker than most, and sooner rather than later if he said too much. He was not a good liar in any case. The best he could do was lie by omission, or misdirection. Going too far down either path would cause trouble later.

Until they finished their drinks, they settled for discussing their current lives, a safe topic for this place. It made them blend in with the crowd, in fact, as most people were talking about their jobs. "You implied that teaching was a lot different from what you thought it would be, or did I misunderstand?"

He was thoughtful, trying to put his feelings into words. "It is…different. I have been training since I was…very young. It came easily to me. I had sometimes trained others, but always others like myself. I had never taught classes before, especially large classes of ten or twenty students, nor have I ever taught reluctant students, or…children. It requires a great deal of…patience…something I sadly lack."

"Which are the easiest to teach?"

"The adult students, like yourself. The ones who are there because they are truly interested, who really want to learn what I have to give them. Also, the classes where the parents attend and learn with their children, where the parent provides a great deal of the discipline, and I need only teach the skills, if the child, and the parent, are both willing to learn. And if the child turns out to be ill suited to the training, the parent is already aware. Few explanations are required. If the child is suited, it can be a pleasure to train them, or at least not a burden.

"Which are the most difficult?"

He smiled ruefully. "The little ones are the hardest. And, unfortunately, they are the largest classes as well. They are sent by their parents, whether the child wishes to be there or not. Some are interested, or become interested, but most are not, and do not. And many of them are too immature for even the most basic of the lessons, or are discipline problems for other reasons." He stopped talking for several moments. Mercy put her hand over his, encouraging him to continue. "I find the little ones hard to discipline." He removed his dark glasses, laid them on the table. "They find me frightening…But I must always have some of these classes to provide students for the more advanced classes, and because they are the most popular, and…I need to pay the rent. At least, when the eighteen year olds need to be disciplined, I do not feel guilty if I intimidate them…with those, sometimes, it is the only weapon I have." He looked down at the table, a sad expression on his face. She brought her hand up, smoothed a stray hair away, touched his cheek. He turned his face towards hers, as she brushed her thumb against the corner of his mouth. He smiled at her now, unable to resist the warmth of her caress.

Enough of this, he thought. "What about your 'day job'?" he asked.

"Ick," was her first response, basically a rude noise. "One of life's little ironies. Now that I have the position I always wanted, or close to it, I don't actually get to do any of the things that caused me to go into the Archives in the first place. I wanted to do historic research, and I wanted to help other people with their research. I really enjoy working with the documents people give us, you know, when somebody finds their family papers locked away and they give us the diary or we make a copy so that anyone who wants can read it and see what life was really like two hundred years ago or find out that their great-great-grandfather knew Lord So-and-So or led the first expedition to such and such because there's this old sphere we have in the archives that I or someone like me cataloged. I love all of that. It's what I was trained to do." She looked up suddenly, her eyes bright with excitement. "I love to research in those old diaries and journals and spheres and pictures and trace patterns of how things used to be and how that influences how things are now. But I don't get to do any of that any more unless it's on my own time, pretty much. Now I spend my time in meetings, talking about how other people do those things, or don't do those things, or how we can make it easier for other people to do those things. Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong." She stopped, embarrassed at having said too much. It was her turn to look at the table. "Sorry. Not your problem." He tilted her face up to meet his. "It is if you want to share it," he said quietly.

Her eyes looked into his for a frozen moment, seeming to assess the sincerity of his offer. Then, her eyes closed briefly, and her face softened. She opened her eyes again to look back into his. "Let's get out of here, please?" She took them to one of the towers that rose high above the city, one not much out of the way. Mid-sennight, they would be alone at this hour. As they walked, hands linked, she asked, "Why did you leave Luca?"
"It was my duty to leave and…seek my fortune elsewhere."
"Do you always do your duty?"
"Yes." She looked up into his face; saw the seriousness of his answer written there. She had caught the slight hesitation, but sensed it didn't conceal anything important. She was sure that she had found the central core of the man with the impromptu question. It would make what she wanted to ask a little easier, she hoped.

They had to climb the stairs the last two stories to the top balcony of the tower. People clearly weren't supposed to be up here at night. She took the stairs in front of him, so he could catch her if she stumbled. He was delighted to watch the sway of her hips as she climbed, delighted, and aroused.

At the top, he asked, "Why are we up here?"
"I like the view," she replied, as she leaned her forearms on the safety rail, with her hands clasped together in front of her. He leaned on the rail next to her, clasping his own hands together in the same manner. He made sure to take a position close to hers, so close that his right shoulder was pressed into her left. He could feel the coiled tension in her, just from that one point of contact.
"I also wanted to ask you something, or a couple of somethings, and where we were was way too crowded," she continued.
"Go on."
"Why 'Seven Wonders'?"
He stared down at his clasped hands, either trying to find the words, or the courage to say them. Finally he looked at her, and began. "On my journey, with my friends, we did see the seven wonders, and we did make the path to the rainbow's end, or something close enough, I think." He paused. "I thought that journey was my perfect moment, and that it would never come again for me. Then I heard you, saw you, heard that song, and I didn't know anymore. You captured it so perfectly. How did you know what I felt?" The sudden anguish in his voice, on his face, was too much for her to bear, and yet she wanted to share it. What is it he doesn't know? She turned and buried her face in his shoulder, overwhelmed by the depth of the emotion in him. Auron unclasped his hands, and cupped the back of her head to press it against his shoulder, anchoring her against him. I don't know anymore if that perfect moment was then, or now, he thought.

She felt raw, exposed. She had gotten more than she bargained on. Way more. She shook her head a little, so Auron released her. She looked up. "Let's step back a bit. We're not supposed to be up here, after all." As they drew back into the shadows of the support column, she shivered with cold. Her jacket was too light to be up this high. Auron stood behind her, blocking the wind, and wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her back against his chest. She immediately settled in to the warmth of his body, her right hand clasped over his. She was enveloped by his scent, slightly spicy, exotic. Her head was resting on something that was not natural. I could learn to hate that leather breastplate pretty quick. It had been a long time since she'd been this close to a man. She'd forgotten how good it felt. No, on second thought, it never felt this good. Her eyes closed, drinking in the sensations of warmth, heat, fire. "Mmmm," escaped her lips. She was aware of every inch where their bodies touched, and of her own reactions, especially the damp heat between her legs. Hell, it feels as though my entire body is turning to liquid in his arms. It was clearly having the opposite effect on him.

His lips were near her ear. "What else did you want to ask me?" His warm breath on her skin made her wonder what it would be like to feel his mouth on hers. Mentally shaking herself out of her reverie, she remembered her other question. She wasn't sure she wanted to see his face; she knew that sometimes it was easier to bare your soul if you could forget someone was listening.

"This is an important question, or, at least, I think it is. Give me a minute to explain. The other night you asked why I sing, and I told you that it's what my soul needs to make me whole. I enjoy my day job, well, I used to, anyway, and it certainly provides the creature comforts, but music feeds my soul. Auron, have you ever asked yourself what you need?"

Her grip on his arms had tightened. He knew this was important to her, but he didn't know why, or he only saw it dimly, at best. "I have always done my duty," and only he knew what it had, and would, cost him. "I have never had the luxury of worrying overmuch about what I wanted."

There was a chill in his voice she didn't care for, but she pressed on. If I can't make him understand, then he doesn't have a soul worth bothering with, even if he does have a body to die for. "Auron, I didn't say want, I said need. We're both adults, only children think they can have whatever they want. Grown ups know you can't have everything you want. Hell, some days, you can't have anything you want. I need my music. I'd be less of a person without it. The fact that I don't make money performing doesn't matter. I believe that if an adult doesn't know what they truly need to make themselves complete, something festers inside and turns sour. That's what regrets are made of. Sometimes, you can't have what you need because you find out too late, or you try your best and fail, or you have a duty that takes precedence, but if you don't do so knowingly, it means nothing but grief. But if you can figure out what you truly need, usually, if you try hard enough, you can find a way. Now do you understand?"

Auron thought, not of himself, but of Jecht, and Braska. Jecht had been from this world, this Zanarkand. On their journey, Jecht had talked, it had often seemed the man had done nothing but talk. His son was much like him in that respect. Jecht had thought he needed to be a star, that he needed the adulation of the crowds that lined the Blitzball stadium. He had seen that his glory was fading, as such glory always did. In desperation, Jecht had turned to alcohol to dull the pain of losing what he thought he needed most, instead of finding what it was about playing the game that he had truly needed, as Mercy had said. If it had been the love of the game itself, Jecht could have had that his life long, and passed on that love to others, through coaching, or in some other manner. There would have been a way. Instead, he let it fester, and tried to find his answers in a bottle. And lost his son.

Braska had needed Jenni. He had loved his Al Bhed so much he had given up everything to marry her, and when she died, his soul had gone with hers to the Farplane. Becoming a summoner, undertaking the pilgrimage, had begun as an honorable way to follow his wife to the Farplane, no matter how much he had spoken of revenge against Sin or duty to Spira. Braska had loved his daughter, but he needed his wife. Jenni had been his life, his soul. He had found a new purpose in bringing the Calm, but only because it led to his death.

As for himself, he had been promised to the warrior monks as a boy. He had been told it was his duty, and it had been drummed into him from his earliest days that he must always do his duty. He had shown an early aptitude at martial arts training, so the path his duty had led him to had not initially been an onerous one. But his own needs or desires had never been a consideration.

Auron nodded, then realized Mercy couldn't see it. "I understand. But I have never thought about it before." I have an answer for my friends, but not for myself, he thought. Then he looked down at the woman in his arms and was suddenly afraid that he did have an answer.

She leaned back into him, where she had been tense a moment before. Briefly, she let his strength support her. It was not an indulgence she often allowed herself. She hadn't had anyone to lean on in a long time, physically or any other way, except her brother, of course, but it just wasn't the same. After a few peaceful minutes she said, "Auron, it's late. Walk me home, please."
As they walked toward her apartment, he asked if she had to work in the morning. "No, I work tomorrow night until nine, why?"
"How do you get home?"
"I walk."
"Alone?"
"Of course. It's perfectly safe."
"Then why did your brother insist…?
"He worries about me. We've looked out for each other for a long time. He still doesn't like me walking home alone when I work at night, but I've been doing it for years."
"Let me walk you home tomorrow night. I insist. To make up for my neglect the other night."
She smiled up at him. "Well, if you insist." He smiled back. "I do."
"Then meet me at the City Archives, fourth floor East Service Desk, no later than quarter 'til nine. They won't let anyone in after that."
"I'll be there."

…Spira…Macalania Woods

Looking up at the tree canopy in the dark, he couldn't see the stars. He had told her that he would be there, at the time not thinking what those words meant beyond the next evening. He remembered that his only intent at the time had been to ensure that he had an excuse to see her the next evening. A bittersweet smile crossed his face. He'd been in way over his head, and he had known, even then, he didn't really want to get out. He had already known he wanted to get deeper in.

End Chapter Six