Cross
by Karen Hart
Disclaimer: No profit is made or intended on this story. The characters and related trademarks of the Xenosaga series belong to Monolith Software, Inc. and Bandai Namco. I write these fanfictions for love of the game(s), nothing more.
Pellegri watched as the gauges approached critical levels and leaned her head back against the seat, eyes closing. It was about the way she'd expected to die, though the details had changed from the way she'd envisioned her death, with metal tearing not metal, but flesh, and her blood would fall to the ground and she would look up at him, her eyes wide and blank, to see him attempt peace one last time. There would be none until the last second, where written on both their faces would be understanding and acceptance, and she would then become weightless and slip away.
It was not to be, however, and it was a sharp thrust of Reuben's sword though Issachar that would do her in. Yet like her grisly fantasy it was Jin piloting the other ES and it was Jin trying to make peace, to make her get up and start over. Oh, Jin, you fool. There's nothing left and you can't build a life on emptiness. "I already told you," she muttered towards the pickup, turning towards the side window a moment later. "It doesn't matter anymore. Each person must walk their own path."
She supposed she should have been bitter, and turned and raged against the path she'd taken, because it had led to her being cast aside by a master who'd lied and the knowledge that the will of the God she served was merely a fabrication by that same master. Yet still, she realized, while the air inside Issachar grew too hot, she would not have chosen differently, would have walked that path over and over, even if she was to be cast aside because she'd believed in it with her whole being and you couldn't ignore that sort of faith, couldn't bend it into something else. God, were you ever real?
"Don't you see Jin? Your path and mine, just simply did not cross." They couldn't cross, ever. I don't know if I've ever envied you, Jin, but what's it like to bend with every wind? That's not something I can do, that's why I went back to him. I needed his…not his strength. You had that, you always had that, but he didn't—doesn't—bend like you do, and that's what I needed, something unyielding. Alongside him, I would hold myself straight, assured, where I would have ended up breaking with you. I'm sorry I think that.
I wouldn't go with you, but how many times did I wish you'd come with me? I suppose that was selfish of me. I can't help it. Have you ever felt it, Jin? The knowledge that what you are doing is right and just and pure, in a way that nothing else is. And then there's that feeling that starts in your gut and wraps itself around your spine, that God himself has blessed your work, and you could fall to your knees because perhaps, just maybe, you could be doing His will, tiny and frail though you are. Have you ever felt that?
I don't think you would. You're too changeable, ideas and concepts shifting with every moment, to believe in a single God. But I wish you did. Margulis did, more than I, I think. The word of God was in his veins, in all his movements. I suppose he and I could feel sorry for each other, now that it's come to this. But we won't.
What was it that I saw in both of you? I don't believe I could find an answer to that now, or ever, except that I see how similar you both are. And yet, you are both complete opposites. Your quiet snowfall to Margulis's chilling blizzard, your autumn breeze to his summer hurricane. I think the gases are starting to get to me. It's not like me to think like this. I don't want to stop.
She watched her life go by like an old-fashioned slideshow: prayer in the cathedrals, the drop of Issachar's spear, her spear, autumn leaves falling, the rustle of pages, the sound of steel on steel, melted wax from a hundred burning candles. I don't recall my life seeming that gentle.
Why aren't I dead yet? Pellegri wondered while she listened to Jin scream at her to get up, to get moving, to fight him and go on. She could love him for being an absolute and total fool, for his own kind of blind hope. You believe it's so easy, don't you? "I can't. I can't fight anymore!" It's all been used up and I don't have anything left to give, not anymore Jin, don't ask for what I don't have! "I'm tired. Farewell, Jin Uzuki."
As though on cue Issachar began shaking violently, explosions blossoming at every joint and throwing her about the cockpit like a rag doll until she was bruised and bloody and the air burned her skin, though she didn't mind because next it would be all over.
Then it was.