The Birth of Pain
Disclaimer: see prologue.
A/N: Yes, I am still alive. And I would like to state for the purpose of clarification that Auron is indeed still alive. This chapter was originally supposed to be a filler where I spent a little time elaborating on Auron's death. As you can see, things got a little out of hand. The chapter eventually became so long that I split it into two pieces.
I would also like to apologize to any grammar freaks out there. This chapter does change from 2nd person to 3rd person with little warning and I know some of you find that rather frustrating. However, it was the only way I could make the passage work, I believe.
And finally I'd like to thank Rhianna-Aurora for beta-ing for me bows thank you m'dear. And also Ikonopeiston for sticking with this even through the long wait and perhaps unintenionally extending that wait by raising my standards for myself. If you have the time, check out her story "After" in the FFX-2 section. I enjoyed it immensely, even before she made reference to Birth of Pain!
Anyway, I like to keep my author notes somewhat short so for more information check out my website (the link can be found on my profile). Now, on to the next chapter!
All alone, cold fields you wander
Memories of it, cloud your sight
Fills your dreams, disturbs your slumber
Lost your way, a fallen knight
Otherworld
Breathe in.
Don't feel anything except the air cutting down your throat, the taste of the blood in your mouth. It feels cut to ribbons, as if you tried to eat tiny shards of powdered glass. But it also tastes cold and dead like there's a film of decay in your mouth. Everything tastes wrong, even your spit.
Don't think: about how close you are and about how you can feel those damnable tears welling up and stinging the pulpy ruin of your eye like fire. Don't think about them, about how their breath was stolen like a candle being blown out. Don't think about how he fell, how there were no marks on his body, how you couldn't do anything and nothing could save him.
And now nothing can save you.
Don't listen to the crackling and chiming of the ice on the trees; don't try to listen for the voices of the elements. Only she could hear them, but can she now? You can't help but wonder how far away it is, the spring, your safe haven, her tomb. Don't listen to the memory, don't listen to yourself sobbing like a child, don't listen to the drip of your tears into the star water. Don't listen to the far off drone (what is it?), because it is not help.
Don't look, because there is nothing to see. There is no one to see. Just fiends that won't touch you and trees that won't speak to you. Don't look because all you'll see is Yuna's eyes asking why you failed her. Don't watch them bleed crimson and ask you why abandoned her. Why, why is her mother dead? Don't answer, you already know. Because you were not there in time.
Don't speak; don't scream because only the dirt will hear you. The dirt and frozen rocks that pierce your cheeks because why are you on the ground? Don't scream because then you'll know you're alone and now may dream that you're not. Don't guess, guessing is thinking and you don't want to think: about how close you are…
Auron's body shuddered and another orb of heart's-blood fell to the ground, sending ripples through the growing pool like the age-rings of a tree.
"Tell me again, my friend, why you seek to cross the Calm Lands with such haste?" Rin shouted into the wind that tore past the speeding hover. The young Al Bhed had already tried several different angles in his attempt to draw the mysterious Ronso out of his shell but to no avail. Not a word had been spoken since Rin had seen the Ronso loping alongside the hover like a shadow and had stopped to offer him a lift.
"Kimahri is searching for someone," was his answer, not much more eloquent than the first time he had spoken and still with rustic habit of slipping into Ronso grammar. Yet the situation itself was so out of the ordinary that Rin felt strangely troubled by the Ronso's presence. His greeting, for example "Kimahri is in haste. Kimahri has gil," most Ronso disdained to use any machina, even those sanctioned by Yevon. Rin knew that the hover was acceptable to the Yevonites but how could a young Ronso from the boonies of Mt. Gagazet know?
Rin pondered this as he piloted the hover around the hill that lead towards Macalania woods, the fans grinding up the air and spitting it out as it spun in place to take the turn. At the end of the range he could see one of his shopkeepers, Barrto, in conversation with Svela, the chocobo girl. She grasped a spare chocobo by the reins and as Rin drew nearer he could see that she was shaking her head in the universal sign of confusion. Barrto gestured towards the wood and offered his own shrug then turned to wave at the approaching hover.
Kimahri did not even wait for the machina to come to a full stop before bunching up like cat and springing from the deck, to land without even a stagger several yards away Rin watched him disappear down the slope before turning his attention back to stopping the hover alongside Svela and Barrto.
"Greetings, Rin," Barrto said in Common, mindful of the Yevonite in their midst. Svela was an old friend and it was generally considered impolite to hold a conversation in Al Bhed before (friendly) non-speakers. "Svela and I have encountered a bit of a mystery. One of the chocobos was found rider-less near the woods and for some reason it did not return to Svela. We can only assume therefore that it was not dismissed. Even stranger," Barrto carefully lifted one of the Chocobos' canary-yellow wings to reveal dark streaks on its back, "Blood, not chocobo blood, was all over its back when we found it. We tried to get in contact with Svela's sister, Sandra to ask her if she had rented out any of the chocobos but she's somewhere out on the plains taming the wild ones and we can't find her," Rin's face remained grave but his mind was already whirling over the possibilities. His greatest weakness was a good mystery and this one had the added benefit of being someone else's problem.
He was about to respond that they would need more information before they could launch a full investigation when out of the blue he remembered the taciturn Ronso and his haste to head, where else? Across the plains. "Barrto, you have done a very good job, I think. Take the hover back to the Travel Agency and I will try to help Miss Svela here before I continue on to Bevelle for the celebration," the shopkeeper nodded, not in the least disgruntled that he would be missing a night of the greatest party Spira would see for a century. The celebration of the Calm went on for weeks and would probably not see a slackening in the festivities for at least a month or two. Even Al Bhed were invited as peoples of Spira, which was why Rin was traveling to Bevelle now and then from there to each travel agency back to Luca, where the real fun was.
"Well?" Svela asked.
"I have an idea of what has happened. I will go right now to investigate. In the meantime, why don't you see to the grooming of this poor chocobo?" Rin suggested. After exchanging farewells with the chocobo girl he followed the path the Ronso had taken into Macalania Woods.
It never failed to astonish Rin how diverse Spira's terrain was. Hardly more than 100 yards from the cliff wall that surrounded the temperate Calm Lands lay a forest of ice, and beyond that another vast plain where the sun had not shown since before human recollection. Were it not so cold and were he not a city-man by nature, Rin would felt that Macalania would be considered the most beautiful place in the world to live.
The crunch of gravel shifted to the soft step of frozen turf and Rin's eyes strayed to the forest path en-route to regarding the multihued sapphire trees. A few dark droplets were splattered across the ground like molasses that had been scraped by someone trying to remove a stain. But none of the trees here had dark sap. Rin's pace quickened before his mind could catch up with what he had instinctively recognized.
Blood, and unless he was mistaken its owner was the very same as whoever left the chocobo unfettered. Even as he moved his brain calculated with the speed of merchant prince. The bloodstains became more frequent, the smears longer. Cloth, a body being dragged, but the marks were too long unless the weight was too great for the dragger. Someone crawling on their belly? Possible. Certain. Claw marks of a Ronso's toes chipping the ice. Another conclusion, this was who the Ronso sought. A scrap of bandage, brown with old blood. Another piece of the puzzle slipped into place. The man's wounds had been tended, perhaps by the Ronso and yet he continued. Another answer, another question.
Rin rounded the corner and suddenly everything fell into place.
Kimahri knelt over the body of a crimson-cloaked form on the ground. The man's face was shrouded in dirty, blood-soaked bandages and by Kimahri's pose, bent down to pick up quiet words that even his exceptional Ronso hearing could not pick up, the man spoke softly. The words were probably his last.
"Take Yuna to Besaid," Auron whispered fervently. Whether this blue colossus was real or an illusion created by the last spark of his dying brain he did not know. But he did know that no matter what he must pass on his message before he crossed over.
The last wish of a man facing death.
"Where is Yuna now?" the figure rumbled and the sound temporarily lifted the darkness that enshrouded the Guardian. Not an illusion, but a Ronso…Kimahri.
"St. Bevelle. Look for the daughter of Braska," he gripped the Ronso's proffered paw feebly, having not the strength to verbally impress Kimahri with the importance of the message. He felt himself slipping dangerously in and out of consciousness. Only a few moments left…
"Kimahri will find Yuna, daughter of Braska. Kimahri will bring her to Besaid," Auron sighed as a great weight was lifted from his shoulders. The lethargy of sleep too long denied fell over him and he finally allowed himself to slip into the velvety blackness.
As he fell he thought he heard another voice, so familiar it teased at his memory:
"Allow me to tend him…night, he will be well…"
And then Auron knew no more.
Night fell upon Bevelle.
On any other night the hubbub of the city would soon fade and traffic would all but cease. Only those doing their duty Yevon would be seen passing through the labyrinthine streets, the tiny ball of a light spell bobbing along beside them. In the windows one would see the silhouette of mothers putting their children to bed, whispering to them a warning against fiends who came to take away children who only pretended to fall asleep.
On any other night, at midnight, one would see a string of tiny flickering torches like glowing caterpillars making their way up the long stairway for midnight mass. They would come from all parts of the city and join together into a pool outside the temple before disappearing within. An hour later they would then return to their homes and sleep the rest of the night away.
Any other night this would have been so. But tonight was the fifth day of High Summoner Braska's Calm. Tonight, the cities of the people of Spira would echo the grandeur of their forefathers. Lights, both magical and mundane illuminated the central city as if it was broad daylight. Everywhere one could hear the sound of laughter and merriment tinged in some places with the high squeak of hysteria. Nearly a century had passed since the last Calm and none who had lived without fear of Sin still did. The reality of it simply could not penetrate their awareness.
Somewhere out in the darkness a little girl with mismatched eyes cried for the loss of her father in the arms of the one who would soon spirit her away.
Somewhere in the world another girl laughed, unaware that she was soon to lose her own father.
And somewhere on the outskirts of Bevelle, Rin strode out of one of the small bedrooms in the "not-quite" Bevelle Travel Agency. Yevon had denied Rin the right to officially establish one of his inns and so he had been forced to keep his Al Bhed way station a secret. Just as well, he supposed; Bevelle was not the place to antagonize with a constant reminder of his people's existence. Closing the door quietly behind him he narrowly avoided running into his Bevelle branch manager and the dying Guardian's impromptu nurse, Calindda.
"Byntuh sa, Rin. E fyc zicd kuehk du ytsehecdan Sir Auron ec budeuh, (Pardon me, Rin, I was just going to administer Sir Auron his potion,)" Calindda said, shouldering her basket of medicines to push her thick blonde braid back over her shoulder.
Rin leaned limply against the doorframe with one hand and stared down at the carpet as if the pale blue fabric was some unfathomable sea, "Drao femm hud ramb res, (They will not help him,)" Rin sighed and raised his eyes to meet Calindda's. "Fa pudr ghuf drec. (We both know this.)"
Calindda returned his gaze full force, her eyes lit with the fires of determination and, somehow, hope. "Ra rambat cyja ic vnus Sin. Drec ec dra maycd fa lyh tu, (He helped save us from Sin. This is the least we can do.)"
"Ed ec ymm fa lyh tu, (It is all we can do,)" Rin replied, straightening. Calindda sidestepped to let him pass. He walked a little ways down the hall but before he reached the end he stopped but did not turn back, "Ra femm pa tayt po sunhehk. (He will be dead by morning.)"
Auron awoke to an indescribable feeling of detachment, almost as if he was floating in a sea of warmth and comfort. The sensation was strange and foreign until he realized what he really felt was the absence of pain.
"Hey."
Auron's eye flew open and his heart leapt into his throat. At first he could not make out the figure that sat at the foot of his bed for it seemed to be constructed solely of different hues of light. But the form was human, the shape female. Once his vision swam into focus his eyes confirmed what his heart had only dared suspect.
"I would ask how you've been but I think I already know the answer," the woman said wryly, her multitude of tiny braids rustling as she cocked her head to the side.
"Leyla?" Auron whispered. It was all he could say. He knew he should be on his feet, pulling her off the bed and into his embrace. He knew he should be kissing her and between each breath begging her forgiveness but in the end just holding her as he had been able to only in dreams since that terrible day.
But he couldn't move. He could hardly speak. All he could do was stare at her as she smiled, the way only she did, knowing it really was her. No one could counterfeit that grin.
"Yeah, it's me," she scooted closer till she was sitting parallel to him. For the first time he noticed the room around him. It was reminiscent of one of the travel agencies in its Spartan elegance but for the life of him Auron couldn't imagine how he had come here. "We're in Bevelle. Rin and his Al Bhed are tending you," she paused and gestured behind him, an unreadable expression shadowing her face.
Auron followed her gaze and saw behind him a wretched figure swathed in bandages, almost impossible to identify as the once proud Guardian of Summoner Braska. The visible half of his face was bathed in sweat while the other was swathed in fresh bandages that were already darkening as they soaked in blood and pus of the freshly opened gash that stretched to his upper torso. It was obvious that he was wracked with fever as he alternately panted from heat and helplessly pulled at the tightly wound blankets to ward off the phantom chill.
Auron tore his gaze away from his ruined self and stared down at his hands, noting with shock that he could see through them to the coverlet that he sat on. He was fully clothed as if prepared for another day on the road to Zanarkand. Raising one hand slowly to the right side of his face he found the only difference. Thick scar tissue stretched down over his eye, barring it shut. "What is going on?" he said, as much to Leyla as himself.
"You are dying," Leyla said solemnly. "There is little chance you will survive the night."
Auron took in these words, looking back at his physical self. An Al Bhed woman with a blonde braid down to her waist was standing beside him, spooning what looked like a potion into his mouth. Yet no change came over the body, no miraculous jumpstart of the healing process lifted the veil of pain from his features. She seemed to note this sadly and, replacing the sealed vial back into her basket, quietly left the room.
"I understand," Auron said.
"Then shall we go?" Leyla smiled offering one of her delicate white hands. Auron reached to take it but suddenly stopped, staring at his hand as if it had betrayed him.
"I cannot," he said, withdrawing it. "There is still much I must do here. I promised Jecht that I would watch over his son and…Paine…" the skin around his eyes tightened and he turned from the apparition of his wife.
Leyla stared for a moment into the distance before answering. But not with the harsh words Auron had expected. "You did what you could," she said sadly. "I wish that things had been different. I wish that our daughter had known her real parents but…Things do not always turn out the way we wish they would. She is content. and in the end I suppose that is enough."
"I have failed so many people," Auron murmured. "You, Braska, Jecht, Yuna, Jecht's son…and Paine," He looked back to his own broken body, which was beginning to grow still. Each panting gasp was weaker than the last and his iron grip on the sweat-stained sheets to ward off the pain was loosening. It was only a matter of time.
"You did all that you could and no one could ask any more. Braska made his own decision and he cannot thank you enough for what you did for Yuna. And who is to say I could have done any better for our daughter had our roles been reversed?" once again she reached for his hand.
"How can you forgive me, when I can't even forgive myself?" Auron whispered.
"Because I love you," she replied simply, "And you have suffered enough. Please, Auron, six years I have waited. Let's go home."
"Home," he savored the word for a moment. The regret did not leave his features but the shadow of his pain fled. Auron reached out and took her hand in his. "I am ready."
Leyla smiled, "Alright."
Auron turned to see him self inhale one last choking breath then go still. For a moment he felt the overwhelming urge to fling himself out of Leyla's grasp and back into his mangled corpse. It wasn't fair! He had done all he could and his reward was death! He just wanted to live, to-
"Just let go," she whispered into his ear.
And suddenly all the pain was gently swept away. He was free.
The room began to fade from sight to be replaced by a thick cotton-like fog. One moment Leyla was by his side and the next she was running ahead through the fading walls and into the mist. In an instant he was running after her, noting with wonder that between the breaks in the dispersing clouds he could see fleeting glimpses of a familiar sight. The end of suffering for all Spirans: the Farplane.
Another gap revealed a small group of half-formed shapes. He nearly laughed aloud when they resolved themselves into the images of Braska, in full Summoners robes with his wife Rikku in his arms. The realization rushed over him: he had truly come home. This was the end of the road, the end of suffering for himself as well as Leyla, Braska, Rikku, and Jecht…
He stopped within ten feet of his Lord, but Leyla ran on, her joyful expression changing to one of surprise when she finally turned and saw he was no longer following her.
"Hello, Auron," Braska said sadly, "It is good to see you, but it grieves me that our reunion should be so soon."
Auron hardly heard him. "Where is Jecht?" Auron said and the silence that greeted his question was deafening. Braska, Rikku, and Leyla all exchanged glances.
Braska disentangled himself from his wife and took a step forward. Glancing around at the others for a moment he met Auron's gaze and said somberly, "Jecht is not here."
"Not here?" Auron said, furrowing his brow, "Is he still alive?"
"Only in a manner of speaking. His body died the day he became the Fayth of my Final Aeon. Yet even as we speak he continues his battle against Sin."
Auron went cold. "But I saw him destroy Sin! After you…died, Jecht destroyed Sin and disappeared!"
"Jecht only had time to destroy the outer shell as well as the remnants of the previous Final Aeon," Braska explained, pressing on before Auron could question him further. The previous Final Aeon? "The teachings are a lie, Auron. You barely scratched the surface when you learned that my Calm would not be eternal. Yu Yevon, the very Yevon we have blindly followed for the past millennia, is the creator and the controller of Sin. Only a Final Aeon has the strength to destroy his armor, what we know as Sin, and only a Final Aeon has the strength to become the next."
"You are saying-," Auron said, his voice a whisper of horror.
"Yes. Jecht is Sin. Or soon will become it. Yu Yevon severed our connection, killing me," Rikku winced visibly, "and took control of him. It is only a matter of time before Jecht's battle ends and he is lost."
"Is lost- But how, my lord? What do you mean only a matter of time?!" Auron said. It was impossible, unthinkable! Jecht was supposed to be here! If what Braska said was true, even now Auron's friend was trapped, denied the peace of death.
"If Jecht stops fighting, the Calm will end and Sin will return."
"Then why can't Jecht stop fighting now? He has no investment in this world! Let…let another Summoner bring the Calm," he could hardly believe the treachery of his own words. He thought of Yuna, of Paine and how they should grow up in a world free of Sin. But most of all he thought of Jecht, trapped inside Spira's Suffering, fighting to survive.
"Jecht cannot give up. The moment he does, Yu Yevon will begin the battle on his mind, breaking his will until there is nothing left of him except his Aeon form. With that power, Sin will once again return," Braska said.
"And the cycle will continue," Auron breathed. It was all too much. Pivoting on his heels he glared back the way he had come, the knuckles of his clenched fists going white. "Just like Yunalesca said: in the end we changed nothing."
"This time might be different, Auron," Braska began but Auron spun around, his eyes flashing with suppressed rage.
"No it won't, Braska! With no atonement, Spira has lost all hope of ridding itself of Sin! One day Jecht will tire and the Calm will end. More Summoners and their Guardians will be sacrificed until one day Sin destroys us all. The cycle will not end until all of us are dead!" Auron snarled.
"Auron, calm yourself!" Braska barked and then more gently. "There is still hope."
"Where, Braska? What hope is there for Spira except for Yunalesca's?" Auron said bitterly.
"Jecht had a plan," Auron looked up at this, his curiosity plain on his face, "His son is the key."
"The boy is eight years old, what good can he do us now?" Auron said bitterly.
"Not now. But ten years from now, eight years from now the boy will be of some use. Jecht can wait that long," Braska said.
Auron snorted derisively, "He will still be a child."
"You were only eighteen when you married Leyla, by all rights a man. But you are right, the boy must be lead in the right direction before he will be of any use to Jecht," Braska said and suddenly what he had been hinting at the whole time became clear to Auron. And to Leyla.
"Braska, no!" Leyla cried, and suddenly she was between them, arms spread wide as if to physically shield her husband. "Auron has done enough! Let the living deal with Sin, it is their world now!"
"He is the only one who can, Leyla!" Braska retorted. "He is the only one amongst us who has not been Sent," he looked past her and gazed solemnly into Auron's eyes, "And only the dead can enter the Dream of the Fayth."
"Jecht's Zanarkand," Auron murmured. So that is what the Fayth had meant when they told Braska about his Guardian's home. "Leyla, I have to go."
"What?" Leyla voice cracked as she turned back to him. Her face was white as marble.
"I have to go back. I owe it to Jecht, to Spira…to Paine," as he said this he looked at Braska, who nodded, "If there is a possibility that I can help break the cycle, then I must try."
"But you need not go right away! Please, can we not be together for at least a little while?" Leyla pleaded, her eyes were luminescent with the threat of tears.
"If he chooses this path then he will be among the living dead. He will no longer belong here. At least, not until he is here to stay," Braska said as pronouncing judgment, yet there was no joy in his voice.
Auron nodded and turned back the way he had come, back to the land of the living. He only had time to take a couple steps, each one bringing with it a breath of solidity that pulled him down like a weight. When suddenlya broken sob sounded behind him and Auron turned just in time to see Leyla hurtle at him, catching and clinging to him as if to forcibly keep him from taking another step.
"Don't make this any harder than it is, my love," Auron whispered harshly. Already it seemed nearly impossible to continue. The rode that stretched before him seemed impossibly long and bleak. Years of living a lie as a ghost of his former self. Years in which each moment would bring the knowledge that Jecht continued to suffer. Years away from the joy he had been allowed to taste here so briefly.
"You cannot leave without letting me say goodbye," Leyla replied, laying her head against his chest, her voice equally harsh with suppressed emotion. "That was one of my greatest regrets, that I was not able to say goodbye."
"Leyla, I-," any protests he would have made, any promises he might have spoken were suddenly caught off as her lips fastened on to his. For a moment he resisted but not for long. He was drowned himself in the feeling of her, the touch and taste of her. Heheld her as hehad promised himself a thousand times he would, as if he would never let go.
An eye-blink, an eternity later he realized that she was fading, her perfume scattering upon the breeze that blew her and the Farplane from his grasp. He dared not open his eyes to watch his dream fade. Better to remember her in his arms than bidding farewell...
...And once again he was standing beside his death bed.
He would have to hurry, in order to prepare for the long wait.
The next day Rin found the bed where his patient had lain empty of all but the bandages that had swathed him. Gone also was one of the unmodified katanas from the shop with double the payment of gil beside it. No one had seen the man leave and none could fathom how he had the strength to leave with the wounds he had suffered. Yet Rin had a feeling it was not the last they had seen of him.
A/N: The next chapter should be up in record time after it has been edited. As always, please review!