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 chapter title is from a song performed by Pat Benatar.

Auron rested his tired ass on an exposed pipe in the corridor outside the command center for the Al Bhed airship, thoroughly disgusted with himself. That was not the most intelligent move I could have made, he told himself sarcastically, getting into an argument with the ship's captain on his own bridge. I am fortunate that he did not throw me off the ship…while we were flying! By now, I should know better than to let my temper get the better of me. And for what? That wasn't even my fight. Yuna will do what she feels she must, without my 'assistance'. That was her battle to fight with her uncle; I just wish she were here to deal with Cid. And she is more than capable of fighting her own battles, now. She is much like Mercy, that way. In many ways, perhaps, but certainly in this, they are alike. Both fighters…

…Zanarkand…five years ago

Auron asked her to come to his dojo, on a night when he didn't have any classes, to test her skills in the martial arts. When she arrived, Mercy went up the stairs to his apartment to change into her workout gear. As she passed through his bedroom, the only room, on the way to the bathing room, she couldn't help but notice that he had left almost no stamp on this space, after five years of living in it. That's pretty hard to do, she mused. You have to be trying to leave so little of yourself in a place you live. She brought up a mental picture of her own apartment, as it had looked just that morning. I think he has more stuff dropped around my place in three days than he has here in five years. How'd he manage that? She thought for a few seconds. He brings stuff over, and he never takes anything back, she realized. He's moving in, bit by bit, and waiting to see if I object. Hmm, I don't think I do.

She had decided to change alone. It felt…right. She felt like she was about to be tested by a new teacher, whatever might happen after the lesson. She returned downstairs to the dojo, with its familiar mat floor and wall of mirrors, to find that Auron had also changed into a similar uniform; loose trousers, crossover tunic belted and tied at the waist, bare feet. He had also removed his glasses, as the dark lenses would only be a hindrance.

"Show me," he commanded when she stood in front of him, master now to potential student.

She first performed a series of stretching exercises, to limber up her muscles after a tense day behind a desk. It feels so weird to do this with him watching me. I mean, he's seen me naked, for crying out loud! Now…I feel like I'm auditioning or something. As soon as she felt 'warmed up', she switched from the stretches to the first kata, the opening form of the martial arts that she had practiced for so many years. She tried to let her mind flow with her body into the familiar movements, but at first, it was difficult to lose her awareness of the man watching her, and she felt stiff and clumsy. But somewhere in the middle of the third kata, mind and body became one, and her awkwardness vanished as though it had never been.

Auron observed as she moved through the first and second kata. He clearly saw the point in the third, where she ceased to be aware of his presence, that instant where she slipped inside the kata, as though it were a well-worn and familiar garment. As it should be, he knew from his own many executions of these exact same exercises. But it was never this graceful when we practiced in the temple. She completed the fourth kata, and moved on to the fifth. After the first two, these are always taught in pairs, he knew well. She will probably stop after the sixth, then, he decided. But as he continued to watch, he could see that she was working through the sixth kata in the manner that indicated that she was intending to continue on, to perform the complete kata, all eight parts. If she has advanced that far, there is only one way I know of to test her skills. He began a brief warm up of his own, while she finished the last two sections of the exercises.

By the time she had finished with the forms, he was ready for her. "I would like to see what you can do against a stronger opponent."
"I bet you think this is going to be easy," she challenged.
"We'll see," he answered calmly.
Too calmly, she thought. I'm sure he thinks this is going to be quick. Why shouldn't he? He must have about eighty pounds on me, and a lot longer reach. But let's see if I can't prove him wrong…

He did think it was going to be easy, until he found himself flat on his back on the mats within the first five minutes. He had tried to charge in, and she had used his own momentum against him. He'd ended up measuring his length on the floor. It had been his mistake; she had merely taken advantage of it. She stepped away from him and waited until he was on his feet before she told him, "Don't underestimate me like that again. You want to try this for real now?"

He just nodded, and they began to circle each other, sizing each other up as real opponents this time. Her style was based on her speed and agility, strike and elude, where his was based on strength, capture and strike. She fought by darting in, delivering a blow, and spinning away before he could strike back, although he was usually successful in blocking her. But he discovered quickly that her kicks hurt a lot worse than her arm or hand strikes. He kept trying to knock her legs out from under her, anything to slow her down. She was too quick, and she kept moving, running him around the room, trying to wear him down. They weren't bothering with a regulation fighting area, since this was hardly a regulation match. A couple of times, she had bounced off a wall, just to confuse him about which angle she was coming from. It had worked, and he would have the bruises to show for it in the morning. They were not trying to seriously hurt each other, but unsuccessful blocks tended to have negative consequences. He broke through her block one last time, with a blow that would have shattered her arm, if he hadn't pulled back at the last moment, then he took a half-step away.

"That is enough," he said, bending over to rub the bruise on his thigh, where she had kicked him after the last wall-bounce. "You proved your point." She is good. She has taken this as seriously as someone can, someone who is not training to defend their life everyday, although she thought it might mean her life, once. She keeps up her training and her skills. Fighting together, we would make a good team.

Sweat dripped from his face, ran down his chest. There weren't any towels nearby, so he untied his shirt and stripped it off, using the material to dry his head and upper torso. Her mouth went dry as she watched a bead of perspiration travel down the ridged muscles of his taut stomach and disappear under the waistband of his pants. She licked her lips and made a small noise, she wasn't certain if it was a moan, or a whimper. He dropped the cloth and stared at her, a sudden, devilish smile on his face. She blinked to clear her head, and thought, two can play this game, as she untied her own tunic, and held her arms behind her back to let it slide off. The low scoop neck of her sports bra caught his attention, so much so that she heard his breathing change. She raked her eyes over him again, and saw that his loose trousers were no longer loose at all. He looked up into her face, and she licked her lips again, more suggestively, deliberately teasing him.

Suddenly all of the aggression from that mock combat channeled itself into something a lot more primitive. He advanced towards her, and grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her up the stairs, to his apartment. She thought about protesting the indignity of it all, but decided that was utterly ridiculous and started to laugh instead. Still laughing, she wrapped her arms around him and started kissing whatever part of him she could reach. He concentrated as best as he could on not falling down the stairs, but he was distracted by her bottom under his hand, all the way up the stairs. As soon as he reached the top, he started fondling her, and when his knees hit the end of the bed, he tumbled her onto it, almost throwing himself on top of her. Something under the bed groaned in protest, causing him to start chuckling as well. He could taste her laughter as they made love. It tasted sweet, like honey.

…

Three nights later, she came back to his dojo to work out, but Auron had a class in the studio at the time, so her swords remained in their case. By the time his classes were over, Mercy was tired, and he was glad of the excuse to walk her back to her apartment, and remain with her for the night. It was not until the end of the sennight, on his longest teaching day, that he was finally able to observe her sword work, and that did not come about in quite the way he had expected.

Auron left her apartment early in the morning, while she was still sleeping. She did not have to get up this morning, and if there was one thing he had learned in the last sennight, he had definitely come to a full understanding of Mercy's description of herself as "not a morning person", even this early in their relationship. He stood in the doorway to watch her sleep for a few minutes, a soft smile on his face, before he turned to head out, wondering when he would see her that afternoon.

Mercy arrived in the middle of the afternoon, so she was in the back, warming up, when he started teaching one of his least favorite classes, one of the large classes with children. This one had three little girls in it, all six years old, being sent because it was convenient for their parents, because they had slightly older brothers in the same class. This time, the three little girls spotted Mercy in her corner, limbering up, and stopped paying attention to him. They looked at each other, nodded, and turned to watch the 'lady', gradually drifting over to where they were observing her closely without actually getting in her way. Auron hoped they wouldn't disturb Mercy, and decided to just let her deal with the situation. He had enough problems at that moment, sixteen other students, including the girls' older brothers, who were hateful little terrors that he thought should have been properly disciplined at home, not sent to his class.

Mercy saw the little girls sidling towards her, and mentally shifted gears. She caught Auron's eye for a brief moment, saw the question in his raised brow. She shrugged one shoulder in answer, and nodded somewhat bemused assent. Then she ran through the basic forms as the girls watched her with wide eyes. She certainly had their attention. She executed the first form again, slowly. Then the opening moves. She broke the beginning down for them into its basic pieces. Then, she invited them to try it with her, going slowly to build their confidence. It was difficult for all of them, both the teacher and the students, and by the time the hour was over Mercy had lost count of the times she had wanted to scream with frustration, but, although she had come close to 'losing it', she hadn't…quite. The girls were beaming. All three promised to practice, to come back next Sixthday afternoon, and, heaven help her, to bring some of their friends.

Mercy stalked up to Auron as soon as 'her' students were out of the room.
"How did it go?" he asked, trying to look innocent, but not succeeding. As soon as Mercy had come in, he had been hoping for just such an outcome.
"When is your last class over?" her tone was challenging. She wasn't buying the innocent act.
"This class coming in now is the last. One hour," he replied warily.

"Then I'll tell you later, after I work out some of my frustrations on you." Her face flushed angrily, both at herself and at him. Damn it. That's not quite how I meant to say that.
The look on his face was not in the least innocent, as he reached out to hold her arm. "What kind of frustration are you talking about?" he whispered into her ear.
"All kinds," she hissed back, still a little angry. "You just think about that for a while."

Mercy managed to get in a real workout while Auron taught his last class, a group of older teens who could sometimes be a real challenge, more for discipline than anything else. As the last one finally left, he locked the door and put the 'Closed' sign in the window. Mercy opened her sword case and took out her blades. Auron simply pulled one down from the wall. She'd lost most of her mad during her workout, so she wasn't really trying to kill him, and she knew she couldn't. But the idea of administering a nice, swift kick in his complacency still held a certain amount of appeal. Still, they both had to be very, very careful, as they were using live steel, and even an accident could get to be rather messy. She used her agility to stay out of his reach, and her crossed blades fended off his sword when he got too close. It was difficult for him to bring his superior strength to bear, since he did not want to wound her. "Damn it, woman, why won't you just stand still for two minutes?" he shouted.
"Because they're all coming back next week," she yelled back. "And they'll be bringing their friends."
"So? Why do you have to be here?" he asked, advancing on her.
"Because I promised," she answered, just before she tried to get in under his guard again.

The fight became something like a dance, one that sent off a shower of sparks whenever their blades met. Eventually, he planned a series of moves that caused her to cross her swords near her face to block his stroke, bringing her hands close together. This gave him the opportunity he had been looking for. He switched his weapon to a one-handed grip, and caged her slender wrists in his other hand. Both breathing raggedly, they stared into each other's eyes. Uncertain of her temper, still holding her wrists, he bent and set his own blade to rest on the floor. Now, better able to mind the swords still gripped in her hands, he separated her wrists and held them down at her sides, still staring into her eyes, trying to read what was going through her head. I'll never understand her, Auron thought. I still can't tell if she wants to kiss me, or kill me. If she catches me by surprise, she might manage either one. I certainly know which I'd prefer.

Mercy decided she had punished him enough. She stood on her toes, and brushed his lips with hers. He instantly released her hands, and she knelt and placed on swords on the floor beside his own. The moment she stood, he reached for her shoulders and pulled her against him. "Race you upstairs," she breathed in a throaty whisper, as she broke away and started for the stairs.

…Spira…Airship

So many of our sparring matches ended in that bed, Auron remembered with a hidden smile. We had to replace the slats underneath two, no, three times in those five years. His smile twisted slightly. She did well with those girls, too. There were seven by the year's end, and more in the later years, as word spread. One of those first three eventually 'took care' of her older brother. That 'little girl' saved me a world of trouble.

Then Rin rushed into the corridor, and stood beside him for several seconds, slowing his breathing and restoring order to his appearance, so as to give the illusion of being totally calm and unruffled when he stepped into the command center to announce whatever had sent him running up to this location. His presence forced Auron to return from his distant pleasant memories to more immediate and painful ones. Fayth, I can still see the look on Tidus' face, pounding his fist into the wall, while Valefor tried to comfort him. I can't seem to shut it out. I know we should have told him sooner. I should have told him sooner. I should not have let it go on this long. He loves Yuna, just as I loved…love…Mercy. At least, we had five years. It still wasn't enough. They only have a few weeks, at most. I do not know if I can bear to watch them go through what we went through. I do not know if I can stand by and watch it all happen again.

End Chapter Thirteen