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 title of this chapter is from a song performed by Carly Simon.
The evening after they passed what they all feared was just the first of Yunalesca's tests, the gruesome Sanctuary Keeper, the party stopped for a hot meal around a driftwood fire at the edge of the ruins of Zanarkand. As depressing as he found the sight of the blasted shell of the city, Tidus thought that he would rather remain on this side of the ruins for as long as possible, he figured that anything was better than rushing to reach Yunalesca. So, as they all sat around the campfire, the young man did everything he could think of to keep everyone talking, reminiscing, he even used Auron's trick of trying to get everyone to tell their 'stories', anything, anything to postpone the inevitable meeting with the Lady who waited for them in the dome.
Some distance along the path, off to one side, a pile of debris shifted. Under the rubble, a dark figure turned in restless dreams. The voices from the party drifted on the breeze, and slipped into the dreamer's mind. The voices were elusive, as the light winds shifted over the ground, but one voice, a young man's light tenor, was both familiar and often repeated, and the sleeper awakened. Still and quiet, the figure remained concealed, listening intently for the sounds to recur for more conscious consideration. This patience was rewarded with several vocal tones, two male, the tenor and an accented baritone, barely audible, and also a female soprano, but none were the voice most eagerly sought. With efficient movements, a meager camp was packed, and the traveler hoisted a pack between slim shoulders, then set off in the direction from which the voices had originated at a steady walk. Anticipation drove the pace faster; as the voices seemed to gain in volume with every few steps the traveler took. Finally, after the air brought a burst of laughter from the group far ahead, the traveler heard a deep, rough voice intone, "That is enough." The listener came first to a shuddering halt, and then began to run.
At the campfire, Tidus said "Hey! There was more, right? I mean, like that time...uh... Anyone?"
Yuna responded, "I think we should stop...maybe. For now."
Tidus stood, walked behind Yuna, and dropped his hand on her shoulder for a moment in a brief caress, then he trudged slowly up the hill behind the party. First he looked out to sea, into what had been the Zanarkand harbor, then he turned, to look toward the dome, and saw the dark figure running toward them along the broken road. What the…? His mind started jumping. Who would be out here? And running towards us like a bat out of hell? And then it hit him. It was the only thing that made any crazy kind of sense. Who else could be out here? Washed up here maybe? Just like I was washed up at that old temple? Just like the old man was washed up north of Luca? Joy seized him and he half ran, half slid down the hill, yelling for Auron at the top of his lungs as he pointed toward the rushing figure.
They all turned in the direction that Tidus indicated, Rikku even hopping up and down in an attempt to see over the crumbled buildings. But with the advantage of height, Auron could see the dark runner barreling towards the group without any such undignified effort on his part. As soon as he spotted the figure, he knew he should think it was a fiend, or some especially cruel torment of Yunalesca's. Instead, he reached for his glasses with suddenly unsteady fingers, telling himself sternly that this must surely be an illusion. And it was an illusion…the same illusion that stopped his heart, just as she always did. For those first few, tortured seconds, he saw her, as he had seemed to so many times before, with both eyes, rushing towards him, and he was certain. His glasses dropped from his hand and skidded along the ground, skittering to a halt near Rikku's feet. The others were all talking excitedly around him, speculating wildly, and he didn't hear a single word. He started striding forward, towards the distant figure, as he tore at the clasps that held his collar in place. One unfastened easily, the other, he broke off in irritation and as he threw it aside, he, too, began to run.
The broken pavement made a treacherous surface for any kind of running, let alone this sort of reckless dash, that she kept her eyes focused on the road, until she heard the thud, thud of heavy boots coming towards her. Then she risked a glance upwards, and saw his tall, red-coated figure moving to meet her, and joy filled her heart, and she tried to ignore the burning in her leg muscles, and find some reserves from somewhere, and put on just a little more speed. The distance between them closed, until she was finally close enough that she could see his face clearly in the twilight, glasses and collar gone, his determination to reach her, the dark shadow on his jaw that showed he hadn't shaved for more than a couple of days…and her right calf cramped, and she had to pull up short in pain, grabbing at her leg. So much for a storybook ending, she cursed, as she massaged her aching muscles.
He saw her stop running, and his heart almost stopped with her, afraid that she had changed her mind and was about to turn away from him, until he saw the way she seized at the back of her leg, and he realized what must have happened. His heart began to beat unsteadily again. He slowed his pace to a ground-eating walk, and studied her, as his mind and heart continued to race ahead. Please, he begged, as he devoured her with his gaze, do not let this be another dream. Let this be real, or let me wake now. I do not know how many more times I can bear to lose her again. But he continued striding towards her, unable to turn away from the chance that this time, she might be real, or he might not wake up. He was beginning not to care which.
She raised her head, and saw that he was so near; she might as well let the cramp ease up for later, and waited for him where she was. As she watched him close the remaining few yards, she stripped off her pack, and pulled her swords from her belt and stuck them inside its top. Her heart turned over, as she searched his face, thinking, I love you so much, Auron. And, I went through so much to get here. I hope this is what you want, too. I hope I did the right thing, because now, we're both stuck with it. Hurry up, will you? Now that you're almost here, I can't wait anymore!
He finally stood before her, as she straightened, and they stared into each other's eyes, unable to look away, and for a long moment, completely unable to move, to reach through those last few inches, the arm's length between them, as though a glass wall had been raised in the middle of the blasted landscape. They were both afraid that if they tried to touch, the other would suddenly disappear into the twilight. Then his hands shot out, and cupped her shoulders beneath his hands, and she could feel the nicks and calluses on his palms catch at her clothing, and the heaviness of his grip as his hands settled on her body, and he pulled her roughly against his chest, his whole body suddenly folded around hers, as she flung her arms around his neck, and they stood holding each other, in the middle of the ruins of the city where they had loved, and rocked each other gently in the evening breeze.
He lifted his cheek from her hair and she looked up into his face, and found it more troubled than happy. His hand brushed the hair off her face, caressed her cheek, then he rubbed his thumb across her lips. He still hadn't kissed her yet, and she didn't understand why. What is wrong, she wondered. She desperately needed to know. He saw the concern register on her face, and immediately sought to allay it, by asking the question that was uppermost in his mind. "Are you a dream?" he asked her.
The expression on her face switched from concern to exasperation. "Auron, you're the one who told me I was a dream, five years ago. So you tell me. I'm here now, whatever that means. Make up your mind."
Her spurt of anger began to tip the balance in his mind. In his dreams, she had always been soothing, never angry. It had been so unlike the real Mercy. He leaned over to touch his forehead to hers, a gesture so familiar, she automatically met him halfway. "No, my lady," he smiled slightly now as he spoke, "I apologize for not speaking more clearly. I was referring to my own dreams. I have…dreamed of you…often…especially these last three sennights. I dreamt of this moment, or one like it. That you were alive, somewhere…that we met again. Or," his face flushed hot, and his voice dropped to a rasp, "or I dreamed that you were in my bed." He swallowed thickly. "I do not know which were worse."
She touched his cheek. Three days since he's shaved, at least, she decided. Love, I know I'm real. It's been at least that long since I've had a bath, and that was with my swords in the water with me. I know I reek, and it's a good thing I love you, because you do, too. And I don't care, and I don't think you do, either. But dreams don't sweat, love. Now how do I prove it to you? She stroked her hand down his face again, and then her eyes lit with mischief. Her hand tightened, and her face tilted slightly, as her lips closed around his chin, and she nipped it with her teeth, hard. He yelped and pulled his head away, rubbing his face with his hand. "Ouch, that hurt," he accused, in some confusion. It only stung slightly, but it had been a complete surprise.
"It was supposed to," she replied, smiling mysteriously. "But I can kiss it and make it better, if you want," she continued, teasing.
"Mercy, why would I…" he started to say, then he broke into a broad smile. His fingers probed his chin. He could still feel the marks of her teeth. "My lady?" he growled softly, still smiling down at her.
"Yes, love?" she grinned up at him.
"I believe I will pay you back for that, later, instead," he finished, as he teased her smiling mouth with a kiss on each upturned corner. Then her smiling lips parted for him, and his mouth fitted itself to hers, and they both needed to touch and taste each other, everywhere, at once. Each kiss led to another, longer, hotter, deeper. His glove, he had to get rid of it, he needed to touch her with his bare hands, both his hands, he hated the time he had to waste to use his left hand to unbuckle it, but at least it was gone, fallen to the ground. She pulled his coat down to his waist after that, it didn't matter, he didn't care, her hands on his arms, on his neck, his face, that was what mattered. They would kiss until they had to come up for air, and then they would say "I love you" over and over, with each breath, like a blessing, like a prayer, as they continued to touch and caress and kiss whatever they could reach. He was taller, his arms were longer and she didn't wear armor, so he had an unfair advantage. He could touch her everywhere, at least through her clothes, but her options on him were more limited. He knew she had a sensitive spot, just where her neck met her shoulder, and he kept coming back to it, kissing, and licking and sucking it, and her head would fall back, making it easy for him to know exactly when he'd found the right place, until she couldn't stand it anymore that she was the only one going crazy here, and she'd straighten up and get her hands underneath his coat and scrape her nails along his buttocks and drive him mad until he'd slash his mouth over hers, grinding his hips against hers by holding onto her bottom with both hands. He worked his hand inside her bra, cradling her breast, and she arched her back, trying to get closer. They'd both lost their minds, and neither of them seemed to care. In the back of his mind, he knew there was a reason they shouldn't go any further, shouldn't have gone this far, but he couldn't even get close to thinking of what it was, not right now.
She'd given up completely on thinking anything at all. All she could do was feel. She hadn't felt anything in so long; except in dreams, and this, this was a feast of sensation. Somewhere inside, she knew they were being completely insane, but she just couldn't make it seem to matter. Everything he was doing, everything they were doing, just felt so good, she wasn't sure why they should stop. His lips were fused to hers, and it felt so good. He tasted so good, especially when she sucked his tongue into her mouth. She heard, or maybe felt him groan. Her left shoulder was bare now, and his hand traced down to her breast, and he rubbed his palm over the hard peak of her nipple. She moaned into his mouth. She felt her back arch automatically, as she tried to press more of her breast into his hand. She wanted more, more everything. His other hand was at the small of her back, keeping her hips pressed tight to his. She writhed against him seductively, and his hand slid lower. Her hand was on the outside of his thigh, trailing up his leg. He sucked in his breath, as she insinuated her hand between their bodies. Her fingers teased over his shaft for a few intense seconds, as his hand tightened on her breast, then she reached her goal, and started unbuckling his belt from the bottom. He began to attack it from the top. They broke off kissing to concentrate on getting his belt undone; clearly both of them had the same ultimate goal in mind.
But enough blood managed to find its way back to his brain that he finally remembered the reason that they should not be indulging themselves in the open in the middle of the Zanarkand ruins, and he caught her hands in his, before they had managed to completely unbuckle his belt. She stared up at him in hazy confusion. "Love, what's the matter? What's wrong?"
He stared down at their joined hands, his face stained almost as dark as his coat. His voice was still husky as he began to choke out, "The Summoner's party…I arrived here with…is at the edge of the ruins." He swallowed, and regained some control over his words. "I believe that they are distant enough…" his gaze rose to her bare shoulder, the slope of her breast, and he nearly choked again, "that they could not actually see…" he didn't feel the need to finish his sentence, his meaning was clear enough.
She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry for a few seconds, at his furiously blushing face, or the missed opportunity. Instead, she smiled at him warmly, and extracted her hands from his, and straightened her shirt and bra. As he tightened his belt again, his eye followed her movements, so she took her time, making him remember everything they had just done, everything they had ever done, making sure he regretted waiting as much as she did. She heard the hitch in his breath as her hands smoothed her tunic down over her breasts, and pulled the shirttails to make sure it was taut. It's not the sex. Okay, it's not just the sex. We've never been apart this long. Three days, once, right after we met, and that was like a living hell. It's been four months. I want to re-connect with him, fast, and that's the deepest and surest way I know. And the most…fun. But I guess we'll have to wait. She sighed, met his staring gaze, and held out her arms intending to hug him before she pulled on her backpack.
But he gripped her by the arms and held her stiffly away. The conflict was written clearly on his face. He wanted to hold her, but now he was all too conscious of their potential audience, in too many ways. "The others…" he began, responding quickly to the hurt look on her face.
"Auron, damn it, I need you to hold me again, just for a few minutes, before we head back to join the others, and that's all. Either they are too far away to see anything, so a hug won't make any difference, or, they can see everything, in which case, they just saw us practically jump each other's bones out here, in which case, a simple hug is pretty much…anticlimactic, wouldn't you say?" Her voice was quivering, whether with pain or rage, he couldn't tell. But he could that her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and he could not bear that for a single instant, no matter his own misgivings. He drew her into his arms, and held her tight.
What's wrong with you, love? How much of us did you have to bury, just to survive? How much of yourself did you lose along the way? I should have known better than to think this was going to be easy. She tried to keep her tears inside, as she clung to him.
He kissed her hair, and ran his hands down her back, keeping her close to him for a few more minutes. I dreamed of this moment, never thinking beyond the rapture to the reality. I am not the man I was in your Zanarkand. I could not continue to be, and go on. I have to be what I am now, to complete my task. I hope that you can find enough of what you want, what you need, that you will still love me, my lady. I do not believe that I can bear to lose you again.
He coughed, and she raised her head. "There's something I need you to do, before we return to the others," he began, uncertainty in his voice. He dropped his arms from around her, and brought his hands together, between them. She saw it clearly, now, his wedding ring on his right hand, where it would normally be hidden under his glove. Her eyes flicked up to his face, and then down again, as he drew the ring from his finger, and dropped it into her cupped palm. He held his left hand out to her now; fingers splayed so that she could easily slip the ring back onto its proper place, the third finger of his left hand.
As the gold band slid home, she lifted her gaze to his face again, and whispered the words of the ceremony to him softly, "With this ring, I thee wed," as a tear slid down her cheek.
He wiped the tear away with a caress of his thumb. "I promised you, my lady, that I would wear it, always," he whispered back hoarsely, pulling her close again.
"We need to go," he finally said, "before they send out a search party." Her head lifted from his chest and her eyes met his. Then he said the one thing he was certain would get her moving. "Tidus is waiting for us." He had seen sunny days that were not as bright as her answering smile.
"Then we'd better go. I'm surprised he's waited this long," she said, laughing a little now at the touch of this pure, unalloyed joy. She slipped out of his embrace, and reached for her pack and her swords, taking a few seconds to replace them about her person. As she adjusted her swords in her belt, she studied her husband while he searched his upside-down coat for a pocket to stuff his glove into, clearly not intending to pull it back on. Her expression turned serious. Now I know. He buried everything. Hidden away, like his ring. Will we have to start all over again? There's no time...maybe only tonight. Do the others even know I exist? What a mess! Her gaze moved from his hands, back to his face.
He caught her look, and guessed something of the direction of her thoughts. "The others do know about you…about us," he corrected himself. "It seems that I talk in my sleep," he paused, a wry smile on his lips for a moment. "I am told that…I call your name," he continued quietly, his gaze locked with hers. "Tidus finally told them the story," he finished.
She let out a breath. "I see," she said. I see you couldn't quite manage to hide everything, at least not from yourself. She took another deep breath, and let it out again. "Shouldn't we just go, before the search parties set out?" she asked.
"You're right, we should. Waiting patiently is not something that Tidus does well," he replied.
"He comes by that honestly," she laughed. "He got that from both of us, as well as from Jecht. Let's go." They started to walk down the road, side by side. Walking together still seemed as natural as breathing. She took her position on his right, and he automatically accommodated his pace to hers. "Tell me about Tidus. How's he been, really?"
Auron took his time, and chose his words carefully. "He has…done well. He has grown up since he has been here. You will be proud of him."
She tried to read his face. "Are you…proud of him?"
"Yes," he answered, without hesitation. But have you told him that? She knew the answer in her heart. I bet not. I couldn't get you to tell him in Zanarkand, and I'm sure you haven't done it here, not the way you're acting now. Men. Why are they all so damn stubborn? She sighed. I need to change the subject, before I start this useless fight again. "Who's your summoner?"
"Braska's daughter, Yuna, as I feared," he answered sadly. "She looks so much like her mother. But, she has her father's spirit. Braska would be proud of her. And before you ask, no, I have not found an answer. Neither has Tidus. And his need is now more urgent than mine. They love each other."
She sucked in air, suddenly, in a whoosh of surprise. "And we thought five years wasn't nearly enough time." She shook her head at the injustice of it all.
"It wasn't," he said, letting his hand brush against hers for a moment, "but it seems like eternity in comparison."
She choked back tears again. "Are there any other guardians?"
"Yes, four more," he stated.
"Four more!" she almost whooped with surprised laughter. "Auron, I remember you said that the teachings 'encouraged' small groups. Aren't you all pretty unpopular with the temples?"
"I believe that we have given the temples considerably more to worry about than the size of this party," he said, sarcasm clear in his voice. "But I will let Tidus tell you the story when we reach the others. You know that he will tell it anyway, and at length, so you might as well save your ears." He smiled as he spoke. They were both all too aware of the young man's extreme wordiness.
"Oh, alright. I give up. Tell me about the other guardians, since I'm going to be meeting them pretty soon. I'd like to be a little prepared," she sighed with mock resignation.
"Kimahri Ronso is still with Yuna. After he took her to Besaid, he decided to remain there, guarding her. He raised her as if she were his daughter." Auron paused, swallowed hard, then continued. "He took my place."
Mercy reached for his hand, and twined her fingers with his for a long moment, letting him take comfort from her touch. "And I will finally get the chance to thank him for doing it. He freed you to come to my Zanarkand…to raise Tidus as if he were your own. You couldn't do both." He finally nodded his head at her words, rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, and released her hand.
"There is also Yuna's Al Bhed cousin, Rikku. She is very young for a guardian, even by Spira's standards. And the clergy were not pleased with her inclusion among Yuna's guardians, either." His expression became suddenly guarded. "The remaining two are Yuna's childhood friends from Besaid. One is a Blitzball player, a young man named Wakka. He is a strong fighter but unfortunately a devout Yevonite. He initially had some…difficulties when he discovered that Yuna's cousin was an Al Bhed. The last is a black mage," his voice dropped and Mercy didn't quite catch the next word, she thought it was either 'witch' or 'bitch', "called Lulu." Well, she thought, that answers that little question. I wonder exactly what Lulu the 'witch bitch' tried three sennights ago? She will definitely not be trying it again.
They were close enough now that there wasn't really time for any more questions, or especially, any more answers. Mercy was grateful. She wasn't sure she could handle another answer like that last one, and she really wasn't ready to deal with any of the questions Auron must be planning to ask, so she just kept walking. The rest of the questions, and the answers, would come soon enough. But first, Tidus was waiting for her.
End Chapter-Twenty-Three