Nothing But Them (Blue Eyes)

When I woke, I had the brief, strange image that I was, for some reason, back at the orphanage. After some moments of pretending sleep while I thought, I decided this was due to the sound of the sea around me; that, and cool darkness wreathed with the scents of cement and wood. The festive background cries quickly placed me away from that memory, though, and I listened for further clues.

The clash of swords, strong accents shouting intelligible words, a curiously muffled tick-tick that seemed to run the whole works...

Unable to deduct more, I gave up on listening and opened my eyes. A silver-haired boy of about Sora's age was bent over me, bright aqua eyes holding a coldness that so often inhabited my own. His looks seemed oddly familiar, although I knew that I had never met him, and it took only moments to remember.

-. -. -. -

::Sora was in tears that day, curled up in a ball that even the exuberant Yuffie couldn't talk him out of. It wasn't until she and Aerith had given up and left that he began to talk, which greatly surprised me.

"I saw Riku, today," he confided in a low voice, so unlike his usual self. "All he talked about was Kairi and how I had betrayed him by siding with Donald and Mickey. Why does he think I betrayed him, Leon? I only wanted to find them again... Riku and Kairi, I mean. That's all I wanted."

I watched him for awhile before deciding that he actually wanted a response. It would be so easy to tell him to talk to a more compassionate being, like a wall, but I knew he, like Quistis, would get the wrong impression from that.

"Some people are funny like that, I guess," I told him. It wasn't very deep and made me sound a bit like a moron, which I hated, but it was also hard to fake truth as well.

He had looked up and smiled. "It's too bad you didn't see him. Riku's really interesting looking, and not like anyone I've ever met. He's lost some of his tan, probably by hanging around the Heartless all the time—" his eyes dimmed there—"but his skin is still dark enough to make his hair really neat and kind of glow-y, since it's silver. And he's got eyes just about the color of Aerith's, but before I met her, I hadn't seen anyone with eyes like that. It's cool."

And yet, I thought, all of this concern for one who's betrayed you... why do you keep trusting, Sora? What's the point? All people are evil. The only one you can trust is yourself, and sometimes, there isn't even that.::

-. -. -. -

I closed my eyes briefly, the rap on the back of my head having turned into a rather violent headache, and when I opened them again, the boy was gone. No one was in the room, and the door was still apparently bolted—from the inside? What was the point in kidnapping someone and then giving them a door they can lock?—so he must have left by some other means. Or, perhaps, he had never been there at all. It wouldn't have been the first time I had seen imaginary people upon waking up.

Sitting up, I took quick stock of myself (Clothes? Check. Boots? Present. Sword? Gone. Damn.) and then the room. It was bare, aside from the wooden bunk I had been laying on, and an apparently empty barrel stationed in the corner. The bunk itself was little more than a few boards nailed to the wall, without even a pillow for contrast, a fact which had probably not helped the pounding in my head or, as I moved and discovered, the ache that settled over the rest of my body. Despite soldier training, I could not claim that I had slept in a worse place before: in even the most miserable of conditions, I could use my jacket as padding.

The black leather covering was one of the few items I truly, desperately missed from home, along with the Ragnarok, a well-stocked Training Center, and... and, I stopped thinking.

This was one of the rare times that I truly longed for human company—it silenced the stupid voices rattling in my mind. Before, I could rely on GFs, but they had sacrificed themselves to bring me here. All of them, from the weak-but-willing Carbuncle to my lovely Shiva, were gone. Now the only company I could rely on was the constant prattling of Yuffie—but she wasn't here, and although any other day I would kill myself rather than admit it, I rather missed the constant noise.

It occurred to me at this point that my thoughts did not seem my own. Really, they hadn't since I had first arrived in the marble courts of the Coliseum, where I had been immediately pounced upon by an overactive thief and her pink clothed companion. I could have blamed my new personality on their constant companionship, but I knew the fault lay entirely with me. My policy has always been to internalize all emotions other than stony hostility, but when Rinoa convinced me to be more open to other people, I was forced to review my daily actions. After her subsequent betrayal, I was at a loss as to whether I should keep my new personality or let it go, and ended up with... this: a muddled state that left me with internal monologue and rambling self-introspection.

A sharp thump sounded on the room's wooden door, pulling me away from my thoughts. There was some pounding, and then a curse, presumably as the instigator figured out that I was locking them out instead of being held captive. My jailors seemed to be idiots, and I felt worse than ever at being taken prisoner by them.

"Please let me in!" the cry from outside said. I started, watching the door rather suspiciously, and wondered if this was some kind of mind trick, a test of skill or compassion on my part. Finally, I decided that nothing much could be deduced about me if I merely opened the door, so I did so, carefully balancing my weight against attack and wondering how many seconds I had left to live.

A girl ran in—at least, I supposed the small figure was female, as she was completely wrapped with furs from head to toe. The bottom portion appeared to be a skirt, however, and the way she sat on my wooden bunk with a bit of a flounce also furthered my assumption. When I didn't move, however, she jumped off again and shut the door my hand was still resting on, locking it quickly and giving me a worried look.

"You have to keep the door locked!" she said earnestly, and I could tell from the voice that it was indeed a she. "Can't you hear what's going on out there?"

Indeed, the cries I had taken for revelry seemed to have changed to the victorious shouts and tragic screams of war. The yells made my hand automatically jerk to my empty holster, and I was forced to fight an adrenaline attack when I realized for a second time that the weapon was not there, nor likely to appear from nowhere.

"What is going on out there?" I asked the girl. My voice sounded strange to my own ears, and I thought vaguely that I ought to try this 'talking' thing more often.

"The palace is under attack! I hope my parents are alright," she said, curling up briefly with a pout. Like many of the young children in my experience—very few—she changed mood quickly, however, and smiled up at me. "Where did you get that scar? Aren't you cold in just that shirt? What are those brown strap things on your arm, anyway? Are they weapons? Don't you have a sword or something? I like your hair. What's your name? Mine's Anastasia."

Attempting to keep track of the subject seemed to provide unusual difficulty. With her words, though, I did realize that there was an icy chill seeping in through the white-washed walls. The light blanket draped as mud over the dull colored cot did not appear to be sufficiently warm, and...

A chill that had nothing to do with the snow-and-blood blizzard occurring outside of the door swept through me, leaving blankness in its path. Everything about the room had changed.

Why? And perhaps more importantly, how?

"Are you cold?" the girl asked with another smile, and she held out her mittened hands. "The lady said I should give this to you."

It was my leather jacket, not a fur tuft out of place. Not knowing what to think anymore, I took it from her with steady hands, determined to fall into disorder some other time. There was no mistaking it—the small tell-tale rend was inexpertly stitched in the same place it had been for months, after Rinoa had borrowed it that one night in the park and it had gotten caught on the rosebush by the gate. I realized that I was both rambling internally again in addition to ignoring the world outside of me, a sure sign that things were not going well.

"What lady?"

"The one that was by the door. She said, 'Give the SeeD this memoir and tell him that gardens may indeed grow with a little water and light.' And then she said that you were a seed but that that didn't mean you were a spy, so it was okay."

A year ago I would have been pacing the room in frustration at this point, demanding answers or at least a logical report. Now, however, I was different. I did not immediately race into the hall after strange women that knew too much about me, and nor did I threaten the girl into information.

"Do you remember anything about her?" I asked with far more patience than I felt like displaying. The world was dissolving and I didn't seem to be able to do anything about it—again.

The girl scrunched up her nose in a manner that I suppose was to be regarded as 'cute', and that came off as 'blind'. "She said her words in a kind of funny way. Like 'kastle' and so on."

I gave up on my patience and rationality and stared instead. I had killed Ultimecia myself. There was no doubt that she was dead; Rinoa is... was... proof of that. An obvious answer seemed to be hovering just out of reach, but I've never claimed to have a talented mind. The only thing I was sure of, completely and definitely, was that Ultimecia was not behind this.

When I found myself floating in water beside a boy with a fish tail and fins, I was less certain, and a moment's later dizzying transformation to rainforest arcs and a gold-striped tiger furthered my doubt. Although the time compression for my old friends and I had materialized itself as endless white, I knew that for others, a different exhibit of changing people and places lay in store.

Some of those people had gone mad. I was starting to understand why.

A chocobo on a mountaintop pecked at my hand; three wolves circled me towards a bloodstained tree; an ebony dragon roared its fury through a cage of thorns. As man, beast, and other cycled before me, I realized that they all had a certain kind of expectant surreal-ness around them. All seemed to expect me, none seemed to realize that their worlds were a shifting kaleidoscope cesspool.

Then there, out of nowhere, was Cloud. He, unlike the others, was real, and terrified, and ready to lunge at anything that moved, a state I often felt myself slip into. Not knowing how to stop the constant flow, I grabbed at his wrist, fingers closing around the brown leather there. Those glowing blue eyes widened slightly, a question shaping his lips...

...and then his wrist changed into that of a smiling woman's, dressed in a golden ball gown, and then a ink-spotted Dalmatian's, and then the alarming paw of a lion. I cursed and let go, wondering how I was going to explain to Aerith that I had found her hero and lost him again, and found myself suddenly back in our tiny house, in company with a frigid flower seller and a very stunned looking thief.

The girl in pink turned towards me and gave a small smile, relaxing instantly into her usual mild outlook. "Are you hurt at all, Leon?"

Despite the hysteria the rest of myself was in, a soldier part of me that was always functioning shook my head no.

"I found Cloud, but he disappeared," I told her, voice as off-white blank as it was when I was reporting. "I'm sorry, Aerith."

"Me too! He said that it was just his luck that he would get stuck with me. What does that mean, I'd like to know." Yuffie pouted some half-heartedly, and then bounced over to me, eyes sad. I know that she was going to start apologizing about how she wasn't there, and I automatically opened my mouth to console her. Instead, she looked down.

"Hey... that's a cool jacket!" she said.

I followed her gaze. With the chaos that had been going on, I hadn't had time to realize that my leather bomber had stayed constant. Indeed, the jacket was looking completely unruffled, a cool juxtaposition compared to my current state of being, and was only marred where my fingers were apparently trying to puncture holes in the cloth. Relaxing my hand, I shook out the slight cramp that had formed before glancing up again.

"...you two. You're both in good health?" It sounded lamer than it had in my head.

Aerith smiled in a polite, ethereal way all the same. "We're fine," she replied. "Thank you for asking. I wish... I wish I had gotten to see Mr. Strife, though."

At her hurt look, I began to feel somewhat guilty. She loves him. I need to remember that. Find him, and bring him immediately back, that is what I will do without exception.

And forget, absolutely, about those lovely blue eyes. Absolutely.

Right.

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I had to go for a title change... I'm not sure that it's allowed, but the title was temporary at best, and with 's occasionally silly formatting, mine doesn't show up. Anyway, hope you like the new chapter; thanks for the reviews! )