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 written by Kenny Loggins and Michael McDonald and performed by Kenny Loggins. I was listening to this on CD and I realized that this was the right song for this chapter. Part of the lyrics are, "For once in your life, here's your miracle. Stand up and fight."

I am no one, Auron thought. I was just one more nameless guardian. A wasted sacrifice. If the fayth wished to perform a miracle for someone, they should have saved Braska.

He shook his head. "I do not understand. Why would the fayth do this? What could I mean to them?" He was clearly puzzled by her words.
"Hope," she said softly. "Auron, what you meant to the fayth, was hope."
He shook his head. "I am still…confused," he confessed.
"Shiva told me," she continued, as she stroked his cheek with her hand, brushed the stray hair away gently, "that the fayth see everything that happens in the Dome, through the pyreflies. They saw you, ten years ago. She said that you not only told Braska that you thought there must be another way, but…the fayth saw the fire of your conviction." She brushed her thumb over his lips, and then rested her hand on his chest. "They saw into your heart. They were certain that you weren't just saying empty words, but that you believed those words in your soul. And they saw that, because you believed, your belief reached into Jecht's heart, too, and even though he had agreed to become Braska's fayth, he also somehow agreed to help you as well. Your faith, your trust in each other, your sincerity," her lips turned up in a small smile, "and maybe, just a little bit of your desperation," she added slyly, "roused them from their mental stupor. The fayth are tired. So very tired. They want the dreaming to end. But apparently until you started shouting the roof down, no one had ever even suggested that there might be another way."

"Shouting the roof down?" he echoed teasingly. "I did no such thing. And I doubt that any of the fayth would have so labeled my behavior, even if I had." He pulled her close for a moment, resting his cheek on her head.
"Shiva said that you were 'disrespectful' of the traditions. And that you were passionate in your certainty that there had to be another way. So convincing, that you overturned almost a thousand years of unquestioned acquiescence on the part of the fayth. I'll bet you were shouting." She lifted her head to look into his face. "I'll find out for certain tomorrow, won't I?"
"Yes. I believe so," he answered, closing his eye. "You will see…everything. Tomorrow." He opened his eye again, cupped the side of her face with his hand. "There's more, isn't there?"
She nodded. "The fayth heard you promise Jecht…that you would go to his Zanarkand. You gave him your word, believing it to be an impossible task. Shiva said that even they didn't know how you would fulfill your oath, but that when you rode Sin to the dream Zanarkand, they understood, not only that you had kept your word, but the lengths that you were capable of going to in order to do so."
He placed his fingers on her lips to stop her for a moment. "But I failed to keep my word to Braska. I did not take Yuna from Bevelle to Besaid, as I promised him."
"Auron, the fayth did not witness your promise to Braska. But, you did fulfill it. You did see that Yuna was taken from Bevelle to Besaid." She hesitated, then continued, "I think that taking Yuna to Besaid, and staying with her…from what you told me, and seeing them here, now…may have helped Kimahri as much as it did Yuna. Your promise was only to take Yuna, not to stay with her. You would have done your duty…and left, to find a way to Zanarkand. Kimahri was able to stay. Would you please try to be fair to yourself for once? Maybe you got lucky, but sending Kimahri really was the right thing to do." She placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

"The fayth believed that you and Jecht were working on some plan to defeat Yu Yevon. They did not know if your plan would ultimately succeed or fail. For them, what was important was that you had shown them that it was even possible to try. Shiva told me that the fayth have also been working on a plan to help, but that it was not 'my part of the story'. According to the fayth, you," she poked her finger into his sternum, "are my part in this story. Literally."

He raised an eyebrow at her, asking his question without words. She searched for an answer, then awkwardly began, "I'm not quite sure how to put this. It ends up being rather embarrassing. The fayth seem to have decided that what you had done was worthy of some kind of reward. So, after you arrived in my Zanarkand, they watched you, very, very carefully, and tried to figure out what they could do to 'help' you." She went completely silent for several heartbeats, then her expression turned self-mocking. "You never told me that the fayth had a sense of humor. Apparently, they decided that I might be the answer to your prayers, even if you didn't know it." She had to laugh a little bit, even if part of the joke seemed to be on her. She raised her hand to caress his face, to trace his lips with her fingers. He kissed her palm.

"You were. I just didn't know," he whispered. "I was not…praying…at all. I never had any such intentions." He brushed his knuckles against her cheek gently. "You know, my lady, that I would never complain about their choice…" he essayed with a brief smile.
"Not unless you want to wake up some night with my sword at your throat," she replied, grinning in reply. He knew she wasn't serious…not exactly serious.
"But did the fayth explain why they chose you?" he finished.
"C'mon, love. You know how curious I am. Of course I asked. It didn't do me any good. Shiva just smiled mysteriously and said that they had thought we would suit each other, and that events had proven them right. But I've had plenty of time to think about it. And I think…" she stopped suddenly in mid-sentence.
"What do you think?" he asked cautiously.
"I think they chose me, because of a lot of things. I know that I needed to believe you. Your story answered the biggest question in my life. Sin took my parents. Even after more than twenty years, I still needed to have that answer." A tear trickled down her cheek, and he kissed it away.
She sniffled, and went on. "We were both equally wounded inside, so I wasn't looking for anyone, any more than you were. I wasn't likely to find someone else while they were waiting for you to figure things out."
"And that was just the first test." he sounded a little surprised. "At the time, I thought it was the only one. I dreamed of Yojimbo that night, informing me that I had passed the trial. He did not mention any subsequent 'tests'."

"But Shiva did," his wife replied, stunning him.
"You saw her…in Zanarkand…then?" he asked in shock.
"It sounds like the same night. We…talked. In a dream, just as you apparently did with Yojimbo. She told me that I had passed the first trial, clearly implying at least a second. The second was when I refused Lady Belina. Then she just appeared in the middle of the hallway. She…stopped time…for everyone but me, and said I had passed the second trial, and that we would meet again, she and I. Then she was gone. We met again the night Sin came." The expression on his face made her next words freeze in her throat.

He looked as though she had betrayed him in some way. "Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"
She shook her head. "The first time, I thought it was just a dream. A figment of my imagination. The second time, I had just made too many decisions for too many people, and I wasn't sure if I had done the right thing. I was afraid that I had conjured it all up, just to convince myself that I was right." She hung her head. "I'm sorry." She looked up and stared at him accusingly. "But why didn't you tell me? You knew Yojimbo was for real."

It was his turn to feel ashamed of his actions. "Yojimbo asked me if I wanted anything from him. I…begged him to let you reach the Farplane." She gasped as he continued, "Now that I recall his answer, I see that, although it was essentially affirmative, it was open to a certain amount of 'interpretation'. At the time, I only heard the affirmative, and did not hear the…subtleties. That was my error, and it has caused me a great deal of grief, and pain, these past four months. But at the time, I could not tell you, because you did not believe in the Farplane." He watched a sad expression cross her features. "I see that you still do not, but it no longer matters. Now that you are here on Spira, we can find a Summoner when we wish to be sent. It seems that the fayth may have foreseen this possibility from the very beginning," he concluded.
"I think so, too," she answered back. Her face took on a slightly amused expression. "I think the fayth were looking for someone strong-willed, or strong-minded enough, to survive this little…journey of theirs, just in case we made it this far." His eyebrow shot up. Those were certainly terms that could be used to describe his wife. Tenacious also came to mind. Along with quite a few words that were considerably less polite, but much more accurate…and rather dangerous for him to say, in the present circumstances. She grinned at him suddenly. "Or possibly, they were simply looking for someone stubborn enough to put up with you!" His face turned mutinous and she started to laugh softly. Then his lips quirked up in an answering smile of his own, and he started to chuckle, too. They wrapped their arms around each other, and she felt the rumble of it, deep in his chest, under her ear. It felt good, it felt…right. It felt like coming home.

He drew back his head to look at her again. He had one last set of questions. "Why these…trials? Was it necessary for them to make things so…difficult?"
"I was afraid you would ask that," she replied, lowering her eyes. And I wish I didn't have to tell you, she thought. In these circumstances, if asked, most men would want a compliant, blonde nymphomaniac with 'breasts of doom', not a forty-five-year-old woman with silver in her hair and a few lines on her face. Poor love, the fayth decided for you. "Shiva told me that the fayth had decided that, and I quote, 'you would not appreciate the gift if it came too readily to your hand', end quote." Her voice dropped to a throaty purr as she gave him a sultry look through her lashes. "I've never been anyone's 'present' before. You'll have to tell me, Auron. Have I been a good 'present', or a bad 'present'? As she spoke, her fingers trailed down along his spine, until she splayed her hand over the curve of his butt, and held on tight, using the pressure of her hand to pull her body close against his.

His blood had gone south, and had taken most of his brain along for the ride. But not all. . He searched her face, and saw doubt shadowing her eyes. She is afraid, he realized. Of what? She must know how much I want her, especially right now. It's certainly obvious enough. For pity's sake, woman, make up your mind whether you are seducing me or not, before I do go mad. What do you need me to say? Stalling for time, he held her face still, and kissed her deeply. I have felt more in past few hours…then I have in the past four months, he realized, because she is here. Perhaps that is all I need to say. He stared into her eyes, and told her, "That I am unsent does not matter. I was dead until you came into my life. I died again when I left you in Zanarkand. And now, I am alive again, because you are here." He saw the shadow lift from her eyes, and knew that what he had said had indeed been enough, so he continued in a different tone, as his own smile turned into a wicked grin. "Now," he said in a huskier voice, as his own hand dropped to caress her bottom, "would you consider being a 'bad' present for a while?"

"Mmm," she purred. Then she threw her leg over his hip, and he let her roll him onto his back. She straddled him, staying just in the right position to tease him unmercifully. He tried to raise his head but let it fall back down when she leaned forward, her hands flat on his shoulders, and began to rub her hot, wet sex up and down along his shaft. This was sheer torment, and his eye rolled back into his head as he groaned. She leaned all the way over him, kissing him like she wanted to make sure he'd still be drunk with it the next morning. When her lips left his, he reached out, wrapped his hands around her hips, took control, shifted her into the right position, slid inside her, and was…home.

Much later, they lay together in a tumbled heap of bedding. Her head was pillowed in the hollow of his shoulder, as he held her close against his side. She pressed a kiss into his skin; on a bite mark she had left some time earlier. "You've realized, by now, haven't you, love, that I don't need any more sleep than you do?" Her words were a little slurred. She seemed to have finally run out of energy.

He sounded very amused, and very pleased with himself, when he answered, "That does seem to be one of the advantages. I also noticed that we managed to find a way to fill the time." She felt his chuckle, under her ear, as much as she heard it. Then she was asleep.

You are new at this, my lady, he mused, as he brushed a kiss into her hair. And you have had a rather trying day. Some of it my…fault. I think you still need a little more sleep than I. My lady. My…gift. As he drifted into the first peaceful sleep he had known since they had been apart, the thought echoed in his mind. She is…a gift of the fayth. One I do not deserve, but at least have the wit not to refuse. Even I am not that big a fool. I love her far too much to ever let her go. I just hope I can manage not to drive her away.

Mercy woke in the pre-dawn darkness, with a smile on her face. She felt the unconscious weight of her husband's arm over her, and heard the slow, steady pace of his breath, and was sure that he still slept. Sometime during the short night they had spooned tightly together, and she woke luxuriating in the touch of his skin against hers, his chest against her back, his thighs tucked behind hers, his morning erection nestled firmly between her butt cheeks. I wonder if we have time to do anything about that, she thought wickedly. Probably not, she decided, with considerable disappointment.
He stirred a little, and his hand moved from her midriff to her breast, as his breath quickened. "Good morning, my lady," he murmured sleepily as he began to drop feather-light kisses on the back of her neck.
"Morning," she sighed. "Shouldn't we be getting up about now?" she asked softly as she cuddled closer, her actions in direct conflict with her dutiful words.
"Lady," he whispered, his breath warm in her ear, "I am up." She could hear the smile in his voice; feel the corners of his mouth turn up with it as he trailed kisses along her shoulder.
She wound her arm back around his neck, tilting her head to kiss him. "Do we have time?" she asked.
"No. But we will make time," he stated with decision, as he turned her onto her back with ease.
She rose on her elbows, clearly intending to get up and get dressed. "Then we should…"
He caught her face between his hands and held her still. "Do not worry. Tidus will think of something to tell the others if it becomes necessary." She blinked at him in astonishment, and he laughed. "He owes it to me." Then he captured her mouth with his, and drugged her thoughts with kisses as he pulled her down with him onto their makeshift bed. He held her jaw as he stared into her eyes, now hazy with desire, and thought, Stolen time. Not enough. Never enough. But all we have ever had. Make every second count. He traced the outline of her body with his hand, the fullness of her breast, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, as he raised himself over her and plunged deep inside her and they raced each other to bring the dawn.

But the peace between them turned out to be more delicate than either of them had expected. As they packed up the last traces of their tiny camp, Mercy shattered it with a single question. "Auron, what have you told them about what they will face in the Dome?"
His heart sank as he shouldered his pack. "Nothing," he answered stolidly, and waited for the storm to hit him.
She stared at him, hard. "You've got to be joking."
"No, I am not. They do not know what lies ahead. I thought it was better if they saw it for themselves."
She wanted to scream at him, but knew if she did, it would bring the others racing around the hill. "What do you think you're doing, Auron? Playing…God?" she hissed, angry now. "I thought the whole point was to make sure Yuna didn't take the Final Aeon. How can she make the right choice if she doesn't know the whole truth?"
He answered with equal fire, but kept his voice was low and harsh. "I know the Final Aeon is the wrong answer. But I do not know the right answer."
"So tell Yuna what you do know, and let her decide."
"I cannot." He shook his head. "You do not understand."
"Well you'd better make me understand, and fast, or I'll tell her myself," she spat back.
"No, do not. I beg you. It would be as if I did so myself," he pleaded.
"Then explain it to me." She practically bit off each word, each syllable in anger and frustration.

"If I must," he said in resignation. "You heard them, yesterday, address me as 'Sir Auron'. I said nothing of this in your Zanarkand…because…it means nothing to me…but here…in Spira…they consider me a 'legend'." His voice was bitter. "I 'survived' Braska's pilgrimage. No one knows the last time a Guardian 'lived' to see the Calm brought by his own summoner." He placed his hand on her arm, as if to restrain her, or at least to hold her attention. "Yuna has grown stronger on this journey, but she still wishes to please those close to her when she can. When I speak, she hears the echo of her father's voice." Mercy closed her eyes for a moment in understanding of that, at least. "And my words carry weight of their own, deserved or not, because of the damned…legend attached to my name. I fear that if I told her what I know, her decision might be…altered into what she thought I wanted, instead of what she believed was right." He released her arm and started to turn away, but she grabbed his hand and stopped him. "And I do know not for certain what is right," he choked out. "The Final Aeon is wrong. But I believe there is more to the solution than that. You said that the fayth were planning something, but that it was not your part of the story. Nor is it mine. It may be Tidus' or Yuna's, but I do not know. I decided that I would rather…she made her own choice, with no regrets, and have it be the wrong one, than influence her into something that I was not certain of. Even if she chooses the Final Aeon, we should be able to salvage something from this."

"Auron, you know what I found in my research," she reminded him ominously.
"I know. But from what I understood of it, ten years will not make much of a difference," he responded gravely. "Will you…trust me?" he finally asked, staring into her face.
She stared back. That's what it's about, after all, she realized. This is his world, his call. She took a half step forward, and slid her arms around his waist. "Yes. I trust you." She felt his whole body relax as he clasped his arms around her and dragged her close.

Back at the main camp, Yuna announced, "I wish to make Lady Mercy one of my guardians."
Tidus jumped on the idea. "Whoa! That's so cool. I can't wait 'til you ask her."
Lulu responded archly. "I'm not certain that is a good idea. She has already proven to be a…distraction for Sir Auron. He is rather late this morning. And he may feel the need to protect her, rather than his summoner. What then?"
Wakka couldn't believe that Lulu could be that cold. "But Lu, what are we supposed to do, just leave her here?"
Tidus was dismissive. "Don't worry, no one will have to protect Mercy. She can protect herself. No problem. She's been here the whole time we've been journeying, remember?"
Lulu countered, "Then it shouldn't be a problem to leave her here while we visit Lady Yunalesca. There is no need to make her a guardian."
Rikku turned on Lulu, "That's so unfair. You think he's going to leave her out here and not be distracted, worrying about her?"
"That is enough." Yuna's words dropped into the sudden silence. "It is my decision, and it is what I wish. It is…the right thing to do. For Sir Auron."
Kimahri's sharp hearing caught the sound of boots pacing on the sandy soil before the others. "They return."

But they had stopped, just before they became visible around the side of the hill. "Mercy," he whispered, low, urgent, and caught her hand. She turned her face to meet his. The stern expression he had been wearing a few minutes previously was gone, and she saw his love for her written clearly across his features. She smiled, as he brought her close for one last, hard kiss. "My lady, I love you."
"I love you, too," she replied, her hand on his cheek. "I love you, too."
He released her, and she saw what she was beginning to think of as his 'Sir Auron' mask slip back into place. They walked around the final bend, and faced the rest of the party, waiting expectantly for their arrival.

Yuna stepped forward, and bowed respectfully to Mercy. "Lady Mercy, I would like to request that you become one of my guardians. Do you accept?" The younger woman stood, her hands twisted together in a way that betrayed her nervous anticipation.
"Yuna, I would be honored to accept, but I have one condition," Mercy replied, smiling at Yuna.
"Anything you wish," the younger woman replied anxiously.
"Please, just call me Mercy, all of you. I have never claimed to be a lady." She caught her husband's eye as she made this statement, and saw a smile in his eye, and one corner of his mouth lifted slightly, involuntarily, before he schooled his features back to stillness. Masks have holes, she thought to herself.
"We will," Yuna promised, "won't we, everyone?" she finished, looking around at the others, who all nodded their assent with varying degrees of willingness, slight discomfort on Wakka's part, or thinly veiled hostility on Lulu's.
"Then I accept," Mercy responded, and took the younger woman's hands in hers. "I promise I will guard you faithfully, and well." The two women looked solemnly into each other's eyes for a long moment, the shaky beginnings of a bond forming between them.

Everyone else had already eaten; so Mercy and Auron were forced to grab something they could consume as they walked. Trail rations, again, Mercy noted disparagingly, as she ate. The first fiends they encountered were Ahrimans and Grendels, not serious contests, but enough for Mercy to prove that she was as adept with her swords as any of the other fighters in the party were with their particular weapons. When the first Behemoth challenged them, Tidus decided it was time to let the others, but especially Lulu, see Mercy fight with Auron alone.

Whatever Lulu's objections, Tidus thought one demonstration would take care of most of them. He sure knew Mercy could fight. He'd watched once, when he was a kid, from outside the windows of Auron's dojo, when one of Auron's classes had gotten way out of hand. It had been a class of seniors, seventeen and eighteen year olds, big guys, some Auron's size, and it had been spring and they just plain didn't want to be there. More than a dozen of them, and they decided to all take Auron on at once. Mercy was in the back of the room, warming up, and he remembered that she'd just watched, until this one guy got the bright idea to get on a bench and pull one of the swords off the wall. Mercy had tackled that one and brought him down, fast, before he even got close to any of the weapons. Some of his buddies went after her, and everything got pretty crazy after that. She and Auron had fought towards each other, and then back-to-back, covering for each other, until the class was on the floor, whining and moaning. She'd told him later that she would have stayed out of it, until that idiot went for the blade. She said that once one did, the rest would, then Auron would have had to, and then there would probably have been blood on the floor, and Auron would have been held responsible.

Tidus told the others to, "Just watch," as the two older guardians faced the Behemoth. Yuna took up a position where she could heal them, if necessary, but Tidus really didn't think the Behemoth was going to get much of a chance.
She and Auron had fought like this so often, that they didn't even need to look to know where the other was. They had complete trust in each other, to the point where Auron trusted Mercy to cover his blind side in a fight without question or hesitation. He knew she would be where he needed her to be, and she knew the same about him. The Behemoth got in one swipe, but Mercy dodged, and it didn't last long enough for a second try. The others watched in admiration, or, on Lulu's part, silence.

The party had to fight their way through the ruined streets of what had once been Zanarkand. When they stopped for a moment to rest, they looked into the distance. Thousands, maybe even millions of pyreflies were gathered. Wakka commented, "Looks like the Farplane."
Auron replied laconically, "Close enough."
Mercy found herself standing next to Tidus. "But it doesn't look much like home, does it?" she asked, as she let her head rest against his shoulder for a moment. He could hear the weary sadness clear in her voice.
"It was hard, wasn't it, being here, knowing how it used to be?" he asked softly in return. His question was all the answer she needed.
She straightened, and looked into his eyes. Something she saw there made her ask, "You know, don't you? You know this wasn't…exactly…our Zanarkand?"
"Yeah. I know," he whispered. "But it's close enough. It hurts to see it like this."
She stared at the spot where she knew their apartment building would have stood, and had to blink back tears. "Yes. It hurts." Then she felt Auron's hand in the small of her back, and he turned to see what she was studying so intently. For a moment, he stood frozen, then their eyes met, and she saw the lines of pain around his mouth, saw that he remembered, and understood.
He held her against his side all too briefly, then rasped, "We must move on."
"No," she replied shakily. "It's all right. I understand. And it's better if we don't linger. Let's go."

When they finally reached the entrance to what had once been the Blitzball stadium, an old man in priestly robes greeted them. "Journeyer of the long road, name yourself."
"I am the summoner Yuna. I have come from the island of Besaid," Yuna replied.
The old man approached Yuna closely. "Your eyes, my dear. Show me the long road you have traveled…Very good…You have journeyed well…Lady Yunalesca will surely welcome your arrival…Go to her now, and bring your guardians with you. Go."
Mercy watched as Yuna serenely stepped through the doorway of the shattered stadium. It was clear to her that the younger woman was composed and more than ready to face the fate that she believed waited for her inside. But Mercy still hung back as the rest followed their summoner, postponing the moment when she, too would have to step through the open gates. Auron came up beside her, looked down into her troubled face, and placed his hand reassuringly on the curve of her spine.
Her eyes still fixed on Yuna, she asked in a strained voice, "How can she be so…composed? How can she sacrifice herself so calmly in cold blood? I just don't get it. In the heat of battle, yes, I would do it without thought, to save any of them."
"As would I," he interrupted.
"Yes, exactly. I could give myself even, if I thought the sacrifice was worth it, but I would be looking for a way out every second. I don't understand this…blind acceptance. It makes no sense. But she is willing, almost eager, it seems, to lay down her life." Mercy's hands balled into fists at her sides.
"I know," Auron replied, slowly, thoughtfully. "Braska, her father, was the same at this point. He had accepted his fate. It was I who was not prepared." He stared at the ground. Nor am I now," he admitted sadly.
She let her hand rest on his back for a moment, and looked up at him. "What shall we do, then?" she asked him quietly.
"What you told me the fayth are doing," he answered wryly. "Hope." A brief smile tugged at his lips. "If you can manage it, you might even try praying."
"Well, if those are your only suggestions, I guess I'll just have to...think of something," she responded with a slight grin.
"Better do it quickly," he said, a raised eyebrow his only response to her grin. "Everyone is waiting," he finished.
Auron and Mercy walked through the broken doors to the great Zanarkand Blitzball Stadium side by side. As she passed through the vast portal, Mercy held her hand behind her back...and crossed her fingers.

End Chapter Twenty-Six