A/N: If I use Al Bhed at all, it will be sparse and mostly representative of cursing. Use your imagination if you're not as big of a geek as I am and don't know Al Bhed swear words.

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

Like Death Warmed Over

Chapter 2

I was about to tell his omnipresent self that he could go fuck, when I just by chance happened to look down, and screeched.

I. Was. A. Child.

And then, conveniently, because of course, the fayth could not do so little as to offer me no help whatsoever, I realized that I was not alone. In fact, my sole company was no other than Auron – at least, I thought it was Auron, but he was about twenty-five and looked positively confused.

I'm sure it was the last time I'll ever see him with such a perplexed expression, but it was almost worth dying just to see it. I would have laughed, had it been any other circumstances, but I was pretty preoccupied with the fact that Auron was here, Auron was dead, I… was dead.

Call me slow, I know we acknowledged this fact ages ago, but death is not an easy situation to swallow.

"What the hell just happened…" I stared at him blankly, but he offered no explanation. "I'm… I'm dead."

"Yes," he said simply, and I found the affirmation slightly comforting, if for no other reason than it gave me some assurance as to my… condition.

"You're dead."

"Yes."

"I'm really…?"

"Yes, Rikku, you are dead."

"But this isn't the Farplane…?"

There was an edge of annoyance to his voice as he answered, "This is, as it appears, Bikanel."

I ignored the tone as I was still dealing with the facts. "That's what thought."

"Do you have any idea why you are here?" younger Auron asked, and I was sure I did not.

"Because I'm dead…"

Clearly, this tested his patience, because he snapped at me. "You're going to have to get used to that fact, because it's not going to change."

I scowled at him. "You don't have to be so mean about it! I just died!"

"Yes. You died. This is not the Farplane; we are on Bikanel Island. I am dead. Did I miss anything, or do you need more clarification?"

Despite this being, bar none, one of the longest sentences I had heard him speak to date, I stomped my foot. "I'm not twelve, Auron!"

His eyes travelled over my body in an ironic gesture and I could practically hear the "Oh, really?" that had to be going through his mind. I growled and quickly crossed, then uncrossed my arms, realizing that the action did nothing to dispel the idea that I was, indeed, pre-teenaged.

"So, how do I fix this, then?" I asked as tolerantly as possible, biting the inside of my cheek.

He raised an eyebrow. "I believe that is your problem to solve," he said, aggravatingly, and I resisted the urge to kick him.

"These are pyreflies, aren't they?" My tone was edgy with annoyance, but I held it conversation-casual. When he didn't answer, I snapped at him. "Hey, Auron! Mr. Legendary Guardian! I'm talkin' to you! What, you think just 'cause you're dead you're exempt from common politeness?" It struck me that this statement was ridiculous, but me being me, I ran with it. "Well, you're not. Know how I know that?" I didn't; I'd pulled it out of my ass. I wasn't used to being dead yet – apparently the rules were a little different. So I improvised in my anger, shouting whatever came to mind at him. "'I know it 'cause the fayth stuck you here on this Yevon-forsaken island with my preteen corpse! You must've done a real number to piss them off that badly, Auron. I never heard of revenge that went beyond the Farplane."

It didn't even make sense, but it sure got his blood pressure up. He grabbed me by the collar of my orange tank top and gave me what would have been the most intimidating glare I had ever received, if I hadn't already been dead and having no reason to fear it. This being the case, I ignored the adrenaline that had already begun to ebb away and simply rolled my eyes at him. "What are you going to do, Auron? We're both dead." Now I was telling him. Role-reversal; it was ironic.

He let go and I smoothed the wrinkles out of my shirt, rather pointlessly lamenting that if I'd thought the Rikku he'd known was flat-chested, it was nothing compared to the two backs I was now sporting. I vaguely wondered how old I was, but there was no way to say for sure and I gave up. "Soooo," I said, nodding in a bored way as I looked around. "Bikanel, huh?"

He didn't offer so much as a grunt. "Strange," I commented, and, his manners really being about as bad as I'd accused, he didn't ask why. "Well, makes sense for me. Al Bhed have a lot of weird ideas about where the soul goes after death. Figures we'd all end up back here. I guess the souls of the dead really can hear us praying." Auron remained stony quiet, and I clapped my hands and spun around to look at him. "But why you?"

I was prepared to come up with some more inspiring dialogue, but Auron surprised me. "That's what I'd like to know," he muttered, not exactly to me, but it was a start.

"Oh, goody, then we're on the same page," I said in a very businesslike way, being of the mind that neither of us were about to be struck with any divine inspiration. I scanned the horizons, and, seeing nothing but miles of sand, sighed. Clearly, the fayth were very adamant about the dead figuring out their own purpose – well, on their own. "Oh, for Yevon's sake." I dropped to my knees, stared at the sky, and, feeling entirely foolish, prayed quite irreverently. "Hey, Bahamut. Figure you stuck me and the grouch here for a reason, but I'm not coming up with anything." I left out that Auron was currently being more useless than a Yevonite newspaper in the hands of Brother. "So, if you wanna drop outta the sky and give us a hint or something, I'd um, appreciate it lots. Yep."

The only sounds that could be heard were air over the dunes and Auron scoffing. I dropped my hands to my bare thighs and sighed defeatedly. "You know what, you big meanie, you're not helping at all, so you can shut your trap, thanks." I stood up. Thanks a vilgehk lot,Bahamut, I thought, and gave Auron a glare that looked more like a pout. "Seriously, can you fix this?" I pointed to my younger physique.

"I can't," he said simply, and I was about to give him an earful for his arrogance when he added, "You may be able to change your appearance if you envision yourself differently, however."

I frowned. "Like how the images react to memories on the Farplane?" I questioned, and he nodded. "Worth a shot," I replied with a shrug, and wished I'd actually been to the Farplane to test that strategy. Closing my eyes, I imagined myself as I was before I'd died, seventeen, bikini-clad and sufficiently developed enough to suggest that I was a female.

Absolutely nothing happened. I remained as shrimpy and prepubescent as I'd ever been. "Tysh ed," I whined, crossing my arms and sticking out my lower lip. Auron said nothing, but his expression was along the lines of exasperated. "Well, I'm sorry, mister, but clearly it is not as easy for me as it is for you," I reprimanded him.

He completely failed to react to my admonishment, stating simply, "I said you may be able to do it. Clearly, the fayth have other ideas."

I'd known Bahamut had stuck me here, but that turning me back to my awkward days was part of some sick plan of his was more than I cared to hear, frankly, and I decided I preferred rude silence. "Can you change yourself?" I challenged bitterly, and was strangely comforted by the grimace that passed his face.

"So you can't, either? Bahamut, you sick vilg-" I gave the sky a very violent look before turning my attention back to Auron. "What do you suggest, then?" I asked him civilly as I could in light of the circumstances, beginning to understand why my earlier comments about being punished by the fayth had gotten under his skin.

He didn't answer, and I shook my head. "Well, as entertaining as this has been, I've got better things to do with eternity," I said, and started walking in the direction I knew would take me to Home. There was no real significance behind this decision – it was simply direction in the midst of circumstances that seemed to offer no solutions of their own. If I'd only known what I was walking into…

Ah, there I go again.