Lost

Thoroughly drained, I wanted only to curl up in a ball somewhere and think about nothing for a long time. But one more confrontation awaited me, one that I could not avoid. I walked to the neighboring cottage and knocked. Xan opened his door and, upon seeing me, stepped outside and shut it behind him, leaving his hand on the knob.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "She's pretty pissed. So am I, if you want to know the truth."

I sighed. "I'm not marrying the priest's daughter. I never intended to accept her hand. Dix was trying to manipulate the situation." I quickly explained what my father had done, and Xan's jaw dropped in horror.

"We always knew Dix disapproved of Relle, but this... name of the fayth, I can hardly believe it! Does Relle know?"

I gestured toward Relle's home. "I just came from there. Said she needs time, which I intend to give her." Xan nodded. "So will you help me tell Kera?" I asked.

He frowned. "I'll do my best, but I don't know if she'll hear it. Relle basically fell to pieces, and Ker was stuck cleaning up the mess. Still, I'll do what I can. Come on in; no reason you should freeze to death."

"It might be less painful," I muttered.

Xan made a noise that could have been a chuckle. "Just brace yourself." He pushed open the door, and we walked in together.

Kera was also sitting at the kitchen table, and she jumped up with a furious expression that mirrored the one I had seen on Relle earlier. She didn't throw anything at me, but I thought she might have liked to. Her glare could have melted steel.

"Well, you probably broke Father's jaw. I hope you're happy."

"No, but he deserved it," I said, my voice low and rough. "He's lucky I didn't tear his damned head off."

"Deserved..." She shook her head violently. "Get out. Get out of my house! How dare you show your face here?"

I stood and took her anger silently, without flinching. I would not leave until she heard me out.

"It's not like we thought, Ker," said Xan, who stood beside me. "Give him a chance to explain."

"Explain?" Hands on her hips, she turned on her husband. "What is there to explain? He has the power and position he's always wanted. What does Relle matter in the face of that?"

"She is everything to me, and you know it!" I said, rather more harshly than I had intended. "Why were you all so quick to believe the worst of me? I turned down the marriage proposal. Everything Father has told you is a lie."

Kera looked from me to Xan and back again. Then we all remembered Paine, who had slunk into a corner, her eyes wide with fright. "Get her out of here," Kera told Xan sharply, gesturing toward her daughter.

"Just promise me you'll listen to the whole story," he said. She let out an exasperated sigh, then dipped her head in a single nod. He passed by his wife and touched her shoulder lightly, then walked over to Paine and took her hand. "Let's leave Mom and your uncle alone for a little while." She followed him silently, with one last glance at me over her shoulder.

"So?" Kera crossed her arms across her chest, and I went over the events of the past month. When I had finished, she walked into the kitchen and looked out a window at the bleak winter landscape, resting her hands on the counter. "Why?" she cried. "Why would he do that to you? To her? To all of us?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. His plan was so poorly conceived, I can only assume he was grasping at straws, trying desperately to find something, anything, that might change my mind. Maybe he thought I wouldn't want to disappoint the Maester? I've given up trying to understand."

She turned back to me. "And I suppose you think Father is the only one to blame?"

I knew it was a mistake to lose my temper, but I couldn't help it. "Of course not, but dammit, Kera! I had the situation under control! I was working up a plan to turn down the proposal tactfully without destroying my career. Then Dix meddled, and it all went to hell. Could I have handled it better? Probably, but not once he got involved with that fake letter."

"But why did you wait so long to turn the Maester down?"

"I had no choice! As I told you, I was called away suddenly, to an operation that lasted a month. I told Brac of my decision as soon as I had time, but it was too late by then."

She snorted. "You couldn't find five minutes to tell the Maester no?" She crossed her arms. "I have a very hard time believing that."

I almost growled in frustration at her lack of understanding. "No, I couldn't take five minutes! I'm sworn to obedience; I go when and where I'm sent. It is my duty--"

"Duty!" She barked out a laugh, her voice rising. "It's always duty with you, isn't it? What about your duty to the woman you say you love? Doesn't that matter to you? You don't know what it's been like, these last few years. Relle missed you so much, she was so afraid of losing you, sometimes she felt rejected. But she needed to be strong for you, so it was always me she came to when it became overwhelming. And this -- when Dix told us you were getting married... it was horrible. She screamed, Auron, and it was the most bone-chilling sound I have ever heard in my life. Then she collapsed, right here in my kitchen. Somehow we got her home, and I sat with her for two days as she cried, refusing to eat or sleep, watching that damned sphere over and over again."

I trembled as I pictured this scene, grief for Relle and guilt over my own role in this disaster ripping into my soul. "Yevon forgive me," I whispered, putting a hand on the nearby table for balance as my head swam. "What have I done?"

"You've broken her heart, again and again," Kera snapped. "You and Dix together. And this time I don't know if I can put her back together. I don't even know if I want to. I'm starting to think she's better off without you."

I breathed in sharply, unable to believe what I'd just heard, the shock of it clearing my mind. "How can you say that?" I cried. "I love her more than life!"

"But do you love her more than duty?" she shot back. "You've had so many chances to choose love over duty, yet somehow duty wins out every time."

"Not this time! Do you even realize how much I gave up for her? I turned down the opportunity of a lifetime!"

"Only because you were backed into a corner!" We were close together now, almost nose to nose as we shouted. "If Father hadn't forced your hand, how much longer would you have dithered?"

I knew I was being sucked into a downward spiral, but my temper was roused, all my anger and pain focused into this one argument, and my self-control was simply gone. There was only so much I could bear, and I had passed my limit long ago. Somewhere, I knew that taking our feelings out on one another like this would only lead to more suffering, but neither of us could stop ourselves. Round and round we went for what seemed like hours, yelling and crying and glaring at each other, saying more and more hurtful things, dredging up years of slights real and imagined, neither of us willing to back down even an inch.

"Maybe Relle will be able to forgive you for this someday," Kera said in the end, "but I can't."

At long last, these were the words that deflated me. "Fine." It wasn't true, but I found I just didn't have the heart to continue. I turned away and walked out the door without looking back. I slammed it behind me, then leaned back against the outer wall of the cottage, closing my eyes in despair. I had lost my calling, I had lost my love, and now I had lost my family. It seemed there was nothing left for me, here or anywhere. I picked up my sword, jammed on my helm, and walked away.

I wandered away from Tzeki Village and found myself standing on the river's bank, by a bend just beyond the shoopuf station bench, wind blowing in my eyes. The Moonflow was large and fast-moving enough that the water never froze completely, and the moon lilies lived year-round as well. It was late afternoon, and the pyreflies were starting to gather; just a few lazy specks of light now, but in two hours or so, they would be a riot of color, dancing and flying over the water. I was in no mood for beauty, however. I would leave as soon as I could think of a place to go.

I pulled off my helm and regarded it. It was fairly new, a replacement for the one dented beyond repair at Djose. That helm had probably saved my life; this one had yet to see real action. Now it probably never would. Just as well -- I had always hated the feel of a helm on my head, not to mention the way it compromised my field of vision. And no one would ever require me to wear one again. At the thought, I realized that I had decided not to return to St. Bevelle. The idea of crawling back to beg forgiveness from Brac turned my stomach. My time as a warrior monk was finished.

With a mighty yell, I heaved the helm high into the air. It traced an arc, then dropped into the Moonflow with a loud splash that I found rather satisfying. Suddenly, I felt weighed down by all the trappings of the Order. I unfastened my sword and let my cloak fall to the dirt. Then I pulled off my coat, and tossed it in the water as well. It landed splayed, though, and so floated on the surface rather than sinking. I removed my breastplate and, aiming carefully, hit the coat with the armor. The weight and force of the flying metal pushed down the garment, and they joined the helm at the bottom of the river.

What else could I rid myself of? I briefly considered my boots but quickly abandoned that idea -- going barefoot in this cold would be suicidal. I needed to keep my cloak and uniform clothes for the same reason, at least for now. So I picked up my sword. I pulled the katana halfway from its sheath and looked at it. Nearly as tall as I, it was a superior weapon in every way -- heavy with a keen edge, perfectly balanced, the hilt beautifully worked. Parting with it would be extremely difficult. But it had been a gift from Maester Brac. He'd had it forged especially for me when I was named to lead Gray Squadron. Ten minutes I must have stood there, the blade balanced across my hands, considering whether to throw it into the Moonflow.

"No," I said aloud. I had earned this sword. Brac may have taken away everything else he had given me, but this I would keep. I pushed it back into the scabbard and placed it on the ground. Then I pulled a knife from my belt and lifted it to my head. I gripped my topknot with my other hand and made ready to shear it off.

But I paused and thought, again. The temptation to make a new identity for myself was strong, but was this the way to go about it?

Slowly, I dropped the hand holding the knife. Instead of cutting my hair, I freed it, removing the thong that held it in place. I felt it slip down, the weight of it shifting as the tension on the hairs at my neck was released. Then the wind caught it and started whipping the strands about my face. I hadn't felt the breeze in my hair for many years, and I felt lightheaded with the sensation. A world of options had opened up to me. If only I could have the one I really wanted.

Djose, I decided, was the best place to go. I would arrive in time for a late dinner if I left now. With luck, Braska would be there; I could use his support right now. If not, I still considered Djose my home temple, even after so many years in Bevelle and elsewhere. It would be a good place to regroup and search for some peace. I returned my sword to its accustomed place on my back and left the Moonflow behind me.

Ravenous and tired, head and heart both aching, I arrived at Djose Temple two hours after sunset. I had no gil for a room, but the priest on duty took me in as a pilgrim. I wolfed down a simple meal without really tasting it. Then, finally overcome by physical and emotional exhaustion, I tumbled into a cot and slept like the dead.

I woke late the next morning and went into the temple after washing, pulling my hair into a simple queue, and eating breakfast. The warrior monks on duty were not men I knew, and if they recognized me their faces did not betray it. I knelt before a statue of some summoner whose name I did not remember, bowed deeply, and fell into a meditative trance, swept away by the soothing tones of the hymn.

After an hour or so, I roused myself and stood. No answers had come, but my mind was calmer than it had been in months. Now to find Braska, if he was here. I went to one of the side chambers off the temple and gingerly stepped inside. Two priests sat there, and one turned at the sound of my footfalls. It was Father Shon.

"Captain Auron?" he said, rising.

"Hello, Father," I replied with a prayer bow, not bothering to correct him. "Is Father Braska here? I wish to seek his counsel."

His face immediately became drawn and sad. "You have not heard, then."

"Heard what?" My pulse quickened in fear and I sent up an urgent prayer. Please, Yevon, no! Not Braska...

Shon sighed. "Approximately a month ago, Father Braska's wife was traveling to her homeland when her ship was attacked by Sin. It was lost with all hands. Her body was found a week later, when they salvaged the wreckage."

My mouth slowly dropped open. Tessa, sweet funny Tess, gone? "Oh no," I said softly. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, grief for Braska washing over me.

"My son?" I heard Shon come over to me. "Are you all right?"

Opening my eyes, I looked to the priest at my elbow. "Tessa... I knew her. Not as well as I do Braska, but I considered her a friend."

Shon patted my arm sympathetically.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"Bevelle. He was there with his daughter when he received the news and has not left since." Shon frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know whether your duties will allow it, but if you can, you should go to him. He is devastated, naturally, and I suspect the support of a friend would be valuable to him."

"I have no duties," I said, some bitterness slipping into my voice despite my efforts to contain it. "I have recently resigned my commission." The old priest's eyes went wide with surprise -- for a sworn warrior monk to leave the Order was extremely rare. But he did not interrupt. "So I am available, and of course I will go. Do you have any messages for him?"

"Only that I am deeply sorry for his loss, and that he is welcome back here whenever he is ready."

I bowed to Father Shon again. "Consider it done. I will restock my provisions, then be on my way."

Within three days, I was back in Bevelle. It felt strange to skip the temple, but there was almost nothing there I needed; I would contact Kal and ask him to send my few personal items as soon as I knew where I was staying. Instead, I headed straight for Braska.

Yuna greeted me when I arrived. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her manner was calm, if subdued. "Hello," she said, too formally for a girl who wasn't even seven yet. "Can I help you?"

My heart broke for her. "Yuna," I said. "I... I'm so sorry about your mother."

She nodded soberly. "Are you here to see my father?"

"Yes. Is he available?"

She cast a doubtful look over her shoulder. "He's here, but he won't see anyone."

"Perhaps I could at least come in?" I asked. "Maybe he'll talk to me later."

Yuna considered this. "Okay," she said. She opened the door fully, and I walked past her.

The house was quiet as a tomb. A few dirty dishes were stacked in the kitchen, but otherwise it seemed almost uninhabited. There was no sign of Braska. "Yuna, who is taking care of you?"

She looked at me stoically, her mismatched eyes sad but resolved. "Um, a neighbor lady brings us meals sometimes, but otherwise I'm taking care of myself okay." But then her lip started to tremble, proof that the strength she projected was at least partly a facade.

I sighed. This would not do; the child was clearly hurting and had been left alone with her pain for too long. "Where is Braska?" I asked.

"In Sudran's workshop. He goes in there all day and won't come out." Her voice tightened. Swiftly, I knelt down and hugged her. She wrapped her thin arms about my chest.

"Everything will be fine," I said gently. "I'll go get your father now." Yuna let go, sniffling a little. "Will you be all right by yourself for a few minutes?"

She nodded. "Thank you."

I patted her hair, then walked through the house and into the backyard. I had never been inside the small shed that Tess had used for tinkering with machina, but I knew where it was. I knocked on the door. When I received no response, I tried the handle, but it was locked. I banged harder. "Braska?" I called out. "It's Auron. I know you're in there. Let me in, please?" Still silence was my only answer; it was time for threats. "I don't want to break this door down, but you know I can do it if I have to."

At that, the door opened. Braska stood there, staring impassively. He looked terrible -- his eyes dead of all feeling, his skin a waxy gray, and his hair hanging lank and tangled. My problems suddenly seemed insignificant next to my friend's grief, and I said a silent prayer of thanks that Relle was alive, that I could still hope for a future with her before reaching the Farplane.

I stepped into the workshop and shut the door. The room was filled with small motors, power sources, and half-built projects that would never be completed. I picked up one of these and contemplated it briefly, a tightness in my chest. Empty sake bottles were scattered about as well, although Braska did not seem to have been drinking recently. He walked away from me and settled down on the floor, toying with a shiny gear. I sat down across from him. "My friend, I am so very sorry." I knew the words were inadequate, but they were the only ones I had.

"How did you find out?" he asked. His voice was dry and creaky, as though he had not used it for months.

"I was at Djose Temple looking for you," I said. "Father Shon gave me the news."

"Why were you at Djose?"

"I'll tell you about it later," I said. My story could wait -- clearly, I had a real crisis to deal with first. I placed my hands on his shoulders. "Right now, I'm here to help you in any way I can."

He looked up at me, and his expression became one of determination, his fingers tightening around the piece of metal he held. "There is something you can do, something very important to me."

"Name it," I said.

"Be my guardian."

"Your... guardian?" I repeated, unsure whether I had understood his meaning correctly.

He nodded. "I will become a summoner. I will defeat Sin. And I want you by my side on the journey. Surely the Order will give you leave to undertake a pilgrimage." He set the gear on the floor, pushing it into a pile of other machina parts.

"That is not an issue," I said firmly. "But Braska, are you sure? What about Yuna?"

He lifted his face slightly, looking at the ceiling. "The temples will care for her if I succeed."

"She needs her father--"

He interrupted, eyes blazing. "She needs to live in a world without Sin!"

I had no answer to that, so I squeezed his arms. "If you are certain that you wish to undertake this quest, then of course I will be your guardian. I would trust no one else with the task. But first, I need you to do something for me. I know a young girl who is mourning the death of her mother. She's survived by herself so far, but it is a burden that she should not have to carry alone, and eventually she will break under its weight."

His mouth opened slightly, then tears rushed to his eyes. "Yuna... but I can't," he whispered. "I look at her, and I see Tess, and I just can't bear it!"

"It's hard," I said. "I know. But you need each other right now. You shouldn't be doing this alone, either. Just go to her; it will become easier in time. For both of you." I stood, carefully pulling him up by his arms. He looked so lost that I felt compelled to embrace him. Something in him finally snapped, and he burrowed into my shoulder and cried like a child.

After a few minutes, he lifted his face and wiped his cheeks. "You're right. I can't face this alone anymore," he said quietly. "I'm glad you're here."

"As am I," I replied.

The two of us returned to the house. "Yuna?" Braska called out as we entered.

"Yes, Father?" The girl was in the kitchen, doing her best to make tea, standing on a chair to reach the hand pump as she filled the pot with water. She had to use both hands to move the handle.

"Let me help you with that." Braska took the kettle, finished filling it, and lit the stove fire. Resting the pot over the flames, he then sat down in a kitchen chair and drew Yuna into his lap. "How are you, tayn uha?"

She rested her head against his chest. "I'm sad."

"Me too," he murmured, bringing his arms around her. "I'm sorry I left you alone for so long, but I'm here now."

"Good," she said, and began to cry as he rocked her gently.

Silently, I stepped out of the room, leaving father and daughter to share their grief.