XII. In Which The Newly Recognized Status Quo Is, Upon Consideration, Preferable To All Alternatives

ooo

The first rays of morning sunlight were hot on Sabin's forehead. He grimaced, swatting haphazardly at the air until he struck glass. It was several minutes before he remembered why he was sleeping on a windowsill. The recollection made him start, the closed space him fall, and as a result he dropped to the floor with an unceremonious thud. "Ouch! Uh, sorry." When he didn't hear so much as a sigh in response he felt a surge of panic. "Terra?!"

She was nowhere to be found. Her bed had been made and the nighttime camisole hung neatly on a rack. There were no signs of forced entry, a struggle, or any of the numerous horrible circumstances he'd imagined. Everyone's fine. There's no danger anymore.

How long has she been up?

Sabin headed to the hallway for a quick inspection. Some of the younger children were already awake and gleefully tormenting their siblings, who seemed none too pleased about being pestered. The first floor bathroom was about to burst with flailing fists in too-short pajamas.

"Leave me alone or I'll tell Mama!" Claude threatened, brandishing a toothbrush.

Dmitri stubbornly clung to his brother's leg. "Tell Mama what? That you're a tattletale? C'mon, I just wanna see your insect collection! You promised I could!"

"You're just going to break it again and make a mess everywhere! Now get off me!" He gave a mighty shove that sent Dmitri tumbling backwards. The little boy banged his arm on the staircase banister, then burst into tears.

Should've intervened, Sabin thought with a twinge of guilt. "Come on," he said brightly, stepping into view. He tried to appear firm but amicable. "Claude, if you gave your word, you should keep it. Even if you didn't, you know it's not right to hit people."

"Mr. Sabin!" Dmitri forgot his injury and lunged headfirst into Sabin's arms, but Claude was caught between happy surprise and his own shame.

"I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I, um..."

"What, I don't get a hug?" Soon he had an armful of energetic boys, and he decided to use the opportunity for a little gentle chiding. "Besides, you don't need to apologize to me, eh?"

"Y-yeah. I'm sorry, Dmitri. I didn't mean..."

The incident had been forgotten; Dmitri's attention span was even shorter than he was. "Mr. Sabin, how'd you make it all the way to Thamasa and back so fast?"

"Well..."

"Stupid, he didn't go all the way down there!" Claude snapped, then paused to consider the huge man he clung to. "Um, you didn't really, did you?"

Sabin just laughed and held them close, relishing their innocence. He couldn't think of anything in the world that was more important to protect.

Before they were even halfway to the kitchen they had been joined by the others, all of whom wanted to know about the incredible overnight trip. He tried to sidestep the questions as carefully as possible without being too transparent. "What's most important is what I remembered to get. I'll show you all tonight after dinner if it's okay with Mama."

"What's okay with me?"

Terra stood over the stove with a saucepan full of cornmeal. The grit caked in streaks across her face obscured her weary eyes. She seemed to stand a little too rigidly, as though overcompensating to stay awake. "Good morning! How are you all?"

There was a jumbled chorus of shouts as everyone clamored to be heard first. "Mama! Mama! Mr. Sabin's home!"

"Yes, I know. He came in very early this morning."

"Huh..." Katarin looked around in confusion. "Where's Private Macilvain? Is he not awake yet?"

A strong wind made the front door tremble on its hinges. This time Sabin was ready to take advantage of the distraction and step in. "You know, we ought to eat fast and do the barnyard chores before it snows. There's a big storm coming this way."

It sounded like a brusque change of subject, but the meaning was clear: We'll talk about it then. Some of the older children exchanged puzzled glances.

"I'll go!" Duane volunteered, who obviously wanted to know.

His young wife disagreed. "No, you're going to stay inside and take care of Lucy. She has stomach flu."

"Oh, no..."

"That sounds good. The rest of us will clean up in here, and we'll have lunch ready by eleven-thirty." Terra gave him a thankful smile that made the whole house seem a little less cold. "For now, we should eat and get dressed."

Although breakfast was just hot cornbread and bacon, it would have to do. Sabin wondered how many of the normal staples he'd be able to pick up in Thamasa. They could grow most of the food they needed on the farm, but it was hard to keep ample quantities of flour and sugar. Of his usual four trips per year, two of them were accompanied by a chocobo laden down with supplies. Would he have time to pick up some more before the year was out? He'd have to go sometime in between getting Relm and maybe checking on Edgar.

All the kids doing "barnyard chores" were old enough to put on their own outdoor clothes. The little ones stayed inside on cold days, only venturing out for eggs or exercise after their studies. It could be dangerous to go around the barn when winter set in; frozen water in the rafters would expand, break and make showers of splinters. If I had time, I could try to replace all these planks...

If I had time...

How long will I have to stay here to do everything that needs to be done? He remembered Strago scolding him for having left at all. The children won't do any growing up in the meantime, so by all means, take as long as you want.

After I bring Relm back, how long will I stay?

How long should I stay?

I'm not going anywhere, he'd said. Maybe it was more true than he'd thought. But as much as he wanted to consider just how important the village had become to him, he had a more pressing responsibility at hand: somehow he would have to fit an important life lesson into a six o'clock milking. Should he try to lead into it, explain to each of them individually, or something else? He finally chose to go with a direct approach.

"He what?!"

Several empty milk pails were dropped to the ground in surprise, and Sabin was glad he hadn't waited until the end of the morning to tell them. "Macilvain was a thief," he said, hating the taste of the word in his mouth. "Or, well, he would have been. He was after your mother's old weapons and armor. They're worth a lot of money."

"B-but!" Pamina sputtered. "But he was hurt! He was staying with us! And he always saying such nice things about us and Mama!"

"Thieves can't be open about what they want. If they were, they wouldn't be successful. They have to hide."

It may have been a true answer, but it was hardly a satisfactory one. Most older kids thought of themselves as too smart to be tricked, especially by adults.

"That can't be!"

"He seemed so nice!"

"I liked him!"

"How did you know?"

He wasn't going to tell them he'd spent two entire years distrusting everyone who didn't call himself an ally. Any honor in living a warrior's life was eclipsed by the personal harshness it engendered. Fighting bred aggression, coarseness, and cruelty, and it wasn't a way of life they needed to know. Not yet. "I was suspicious, that's all. When I came back to check he was on his way out with the armor."

"That's so cool!" exclaimed Simon, who was convinced that Mobliz was the only boring place in the entire world. "You mean we had a real criminal living under our roof and we didn't even know it?"

"He wasn't much of a criminal; he gave up pretty quickly. He came around to check out what he wanted but got in over his head. We confronted him about it, got everything back, and he left." Was that it? Did they need a more thorough account? Sabin sighed. "You deserve an honest explanation of what happened, so there it is. There's not really any more to tell."

He couldn't have known it, but his tired tone was more effective than anything he'd said. He made it clear that there was nothing enviable or glamorous about conflict.

"So what do we do now?"

"Yeah, what next?"

I wish I knew. "Well, the most we can do right now is try to make things easy on Mama. Do what she says, when she says, and don't complain. The last thing she needs is more stress." He sat down to start milking. All the others did likewise (albeit reluctantly) except for Hannes.

"Why did you let him go, sir?"

As the oldest besides Duane and Katarin, Hannes was something of an authority figure. He was a tall, stern-faced boy with closely cropped blonde hair, a Imperial soldier's son with an attitude to match. His father had died in the siege of Doma, and Sabin sometimes lay awake wondering if he'd been the one to kill him.

"Why did we let him go?" Sabin echoed. "What's the alternative? You think it would have been worth it to drag him halfway across the world to a county jail?"

"You know what I meant."

"That's not an option, Hannes."

"Why not? He would've gotten away with all of Mama's things! Why did you just let him go away? What's to say he's not going to do it again?"

"Nothing at all. Maybe he'll do it again tomorrow. The thing is, it's not our place to make those decisions." It was hard to sound too serious with his face pressed against cold cowhide. "Violence should be a last resort, not a reflex. Do you really think it would've helped?"

"It might've."

"And if it hadn't? Somebody would've been hurt for no reason. You need to have compassion first."

Hannes shook his head fervently; it was a matter of personal significance to him. "If you give everybody a chance, they'll just walk over you. Would you 'have compassion' if one of us had been hurt?" He saw the way Sabin cringed but kept going. "Are you going to say you've never wanted revenge on somebody? People have that feeling for a reason, right? Who's going to get justice if you don't? Or what if he'd hurt Mama?"

"I don't know," Sabin said bluntly. He figured it was better to tell the truth and sound unsure than to seem wise by deception. Besides, he'd never claimed to know much of anything anyway. "If you want an easy answer, I don't have it. Nobody does. I can't guarantee I would've reacted the same way in a different situation. When you make justice for yourself, you're saying that you know for a fact that what you're doing is the right thing to do. That's a pretty big responsibility, don't you think?"

"I..." The boy lowered his head, but he didn't seem convinced. If anything, he was more perturbed than before. "I think I know what would be right. How can I be sure? How can anybody?"

"You can't. You just have to do what little you know is right and leave the rest to God."

For a moment Hannes simply stood there, staring.

"So...make things easy on Mama?" he said at last.

Sabin grinned. "Yeah, that's it."

ooo

"Is it like when Phillippe takes Mr. Bear and doesn't give him back?"

"I don't do that!"

"You do too!"

Terra sat on the couch, buried under six squirming, squealing little bodies. Three years ago she had tended to them as infants, the most vulnerable victims of the earthquakes. Now they could all help with chores and dress themselves, even if they occasionally forgot which foot was which.

As wonderful as it was to watch them grow, her joy was always accompanied by a shade of grief. Unlike the older children who called her 'Mama' out of affection and respect, they genuinely believed she was their mother. They didn't remember their loving parents or the selfless sacrifice they had made. Worse still, she couldn't ever tell them. When she'd first awakened in Mobliz, Duane and Katarin were burying the bodies that hadn't disappeared into the ground.

I'm the only mother they've ever known, but...

"No, it's not like that," she reassured. "Mr. Bear belongs to all of you. Stealing is when you take something that's only for one person and keep it for yourself."

Jay furrowed his brow, and Terra could see the little gears turning inside. "But...but you don't take things that aren't yours," he said, distressed.

"That's right. But some people want things so much that they're willing to take them away."

"Did he get away?" Laurent asked tearfully, clinging to her neck. "Did you lose it all? Mama, I don't want anybody to take our things!"

She cuddled him tightly. "No, no. Mr. Sabin was there to help get them back. Then Private Macilvain realized he was wrong, said he was very sorry and went home."

"You can say sorry when you steal?" questioned Phillippe, who was skeptical.

"Of course you can. It doesn't necessarily make things better, but you should do it anyway. You should always apologize when you're sorry."

"---but you should try not to do bad things in the first place."

"Right."

There were times when it was best to sit up straight and lecture, but she tried to reserve those moments for disciplinary situations, and at the moment all she wanted to do was treasure their safety. The thought of anything happening to them was too painful to consider.

"So you and Sabin saved the day, huh?" Duane said, stroking his daughter's hair. "I guess some people are just born to do great things."

"How is helping a man in need greater than being a father?"

"Easy for you to say. When you were my age you'd already saved the entire world. You've seen everything there is to see out there, so none of that impresses you."

"Duane..." She knew he didn't intend to sound insensitive. As much as he loved his family, he'd had to abandon all of his dreams of traveling when Lucy was born. Terra hadn't ever wanted anything more than someone to love, but somehow she'd stumbled into more adventures than could fit in a lifetime.

It must seem uncaring when I say it's not a big deal. It's all he's ever wanted to do.

"I wish you would've come to get me," he went on. "What if something had happened and you needed me?"

Katarin, who had been passing by for a glass of milk, could only laugh scornfully in response. "Needed you? There's nothing in the world Terra and Sabin can't handle, and if there was, you think you'd be able to help?"

"Bedtime, for one," Terra interjected, but it was too late. A battle had begun.

"The baby's making you cranky," he frowned.

"The baby? What about you? Now that Lucy's older I need you more than ever, but you're always off trying to find yourself or whatever it is you're doing, as though we can just wait---" She abruptly stopped, checking herself before another explosion. "You...you're right, Duane. I am cranky. I'm sorry."

He rose. Lucy clung shyly to his leg, unsure of where to go. "You're right too. It's my fault for forgetting what matters most. Why don't you lie down again and we'll bring you some sandwiches?"

They shared an apprehensive smile, ending the tension between them. It was beautiful, Terra thought, that two people could be so close as to fight it out in one breath and come to a compromise in the next. Edgar and Sabin were closer than anyone she knew, but affection between lovers was different. Lovers shared a deeper, more intimate understanding.

How do people fall in love? Do they look at each other and know? Is it like the children, when I didn't even know how much I loved them until I had to leave? Do you wake up one morning and discover it's happened to you?

I have a family of my own. I don't need any more love in the world, she decided. Still, she couldn't help but be curious and a little wistful. It must be lovely to have someone to lean on when the world feels like too much...

She suddenly remembered the previous night and would've fallen off the couch if not for the squealing children in her arms.

"So now what, Mama?"

"Are we gonna clean all the rooms upstairs?"

"Isn't it time to start on lunch?"

Terra sat up, shifting everyone into her lap. "Yes, it is. Your big brothers and sisters are going to be very hungry after all that work, so we should make something nice and hot, hmm?"

"Yeah!"

There was a meager mess of green beans left over from the last week's gathering, and along with some fruit and grated potatoes there was probably just enough for a small lunch. The leftover vegetables from the stockpot were so bland as to be completely tasteless, but sautéing them in butter would work. As pathetic as it was, there wasn't anything else to eat.

"Mama!"

Marianna was first indoors. She had a habit of being first for anything where food was involved. Her siblings came soon afterwards, rosy-cheeked and trailing mud into the kitchen.

"Well, hello! How was the barn?"

"Cold,"Simon complained.

"Mr. Sabin is out doing penance, so we can go ahead and get started on lunch," continued Marianna, emptying her pail full of cheese into the little icebox for perishable food. "He also told us to tell you that he'd be back by dinnertime with firewood to last a week."

"Yeah, and that we're supposed to shear the sheep and pick all the fruit in the southern fields! By sundown!"

"Be quiet, Claude! Don't you remember what he said?"

Doing penance? Terra knew he was deeply religious and never once missed morning prayers, but penance was separate, more serious: he'd done it every day for a month after Vargas died and at least once after each major battle. Why was he doing it now?

Is it because of last night? Or what happened afterwards? Is it my fault? "That's fine with me," she declared, a bit too loudly, "and I'm certainly thankful for all your hard work! It looks like all the animals were very cooperative today."

Hannes must have seen the slight hurt in her eyes and misinterpreted it, because he immediately went to her side. "Don't worry, Mama. We're going to help you in every way we can."

She couldn't help but appreciate his earnest expression. He had always dreamt of going out into the world and doing great things. There wasn't much of an opportunity for that on a tiny backwater farm, but he never once stopped trying, and Terra was proud to have him as her hero. "Thank you, Hannes. It means a lot to me."

"We have to do the best we can," he said dutifully.

"That's right." She glanced down at the kitchen table and saw something was amiss. "Vale! You put two knives at Marianna's place! How is she going to be able to eat with just knives?"

Vale went on with the other table settings as though nothing was amiss. "Hopefully she can't. Then maybe the rest of us can eat too."

"It's a growth spurt, you little jerk!" Marianna snapped.

"Yeah, 'cause you're growing fat!"

Although Vale had a way of sniping at everyone, sensitive and temperamental Marianna was his favorite target. The two fought more than any of the rest combined. More than once Terra had had to step into a frenzy of kicking and biting.

"Stop it, both of you! You both know better than to call each other names. Can't you try to be friendly?"

Even in the midst of their squabbling, they both seemed to agree that this was an absurd, if not impossible, request.

"I don't want to be his friend!"

"Yeah, and I don't want to be hers, either!" He paused. "She eats her friends!"

"Vale!" The other children were torn between exasperation and amusement, but Terra felt genuinely indignant. Why couldn't they get along for a single day? "Vale, go to your room. I'll bring you your lunch when the rest of us are finished. Marianna, you shouldn't respond to him that way."

"It's not fair," she sniffed, wiping her eyes as he trudged upstairs. "He makes fun of everybody even when we didn't do anything! He's just a brat!"

Terra shook her head. "I know it seems difficult, but I don't think he means to cause any harm. He's just...unhappy."

"He's unhappy? So why does he have to make the rest of us unhappy too? He's mean!"

"Marianna..." She had no wise sayings or motherly advice to give. Instead she simply put both arms around her in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry. I know it's hard. Now why don't you sit down and tell us about this morning? I want to hear more about the barn."

It seemed to placate her. She took her seat, thankfully accepting a fork and spoon from Pamina. Terra tried to be an attentive listener, but even despite the stories about spilled buckets and snowball fights and Hannes's aspiration to "go around the world like Mr. Sabin" when he grew up, all she could hear was He's just a brat...he's mean...

Is that my fault? Have I raised him this way? He was always surly.

Why can't he get along with the others?

It's my responsibility to know and love and nurture them through everything they face, but Vale is so distant. If I can't understand him, that can only make it worse...or is it because of me that he's lashing out?

As always, lunch came and went too fast. There was so much work to be done that actual family time seemed rare. She treasured the time she had with some of them when doing chores, but it required genuine strategy to get everyone together at once.

She sighed and scraped some leftover fruit, cheese and buttered bread onto a plate. Sometimes she wondered if Vale went out of his way to be punished so that he could spend time alone.

"Vale?" she offered gently.

There was a tiny cough from behind the door. "I'm hungry, Mama."

Vale shared a bedroom with Dmitri, Phillippe and Simon. The floor was usually littered with dirty clothes and wooden trains, but today there wasn't so much as a misplaced sock.

Did he clean all this up himself?

He sat in a chair facing the corner, his little feet dangling in the air. "I'll eat some carrots, too."

"We've got lots to eat. Here." She held out the plate and he snatched it up. Terra waited for him to finish gobbling down his lunch before asking any questions. For as much as he ate, Vale was too thin. It worried her when he coughed loudly or couldn't sleep at night. Had he always been sick? What if he was he getting worse?

Amidst her questions she nearly forgot about the task at hand. "Vale, why did you say that to Marianna? You know that wasn't nice."

"She's mean to me," he said between mouthfuls of strawberries. "She calls me names and shoves me around when nobody's looking."

"What do you think you should do about that?"

"Make her eat a bug."

The speed of his answer was somewhat unsettling. "When things like that happen, you should talk to her about how it makes you feel. Trying to get back only makes things worse."

"If she was eating bugs she wouldn't be able to call me names," he pointed out. Then, sensing that he was in for another reprimand, decided to take the flattery route. "I bet your brothers and sisters never picked on you when you were growing up. You're perfect."

When you were growing up... "I didn't have any brothers and sisters."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You didn't? How'd you learn to get along so good?"

Terra was almost certain the proper word was 'well', but it didn't seem like the appropriate moment for a grammar lesson. "Oh, well, I had to work very hard. None of us really had time to fight."

"Work hard? Harder than farming?"

"No, not harder," she said quickly, if only to shut out the sudden recollection of charred corpses and the heavy iron chains that bound her to the wall. No, that was lifetimes ago, or maybe it had never really happened at all; it was just a painful dream. What mattered was the here and now: her home, her family, Vale. "Nothing's harder than farming...and keeping you in line!" He gave her a wobbly smile, encouraging her to continue"And I know you know what you did was wrong. I want you to brush your teeth, go downstairs and apologize to Marianna before you start on the kitchen chores. If you mean what you say I'm sure she'll understand."

"Or she'll just call me a twerp," Vale pouted, looking forlorn. "You say everybody's so nice, but sometimes they're not. Don't you ever think people are bad just because?"

His question struck like a blow to the chest; Terra couldn't breathe. All the dread she felt about being an inadequate mother came back at her tenfold in a terrifying possibility that made her blood freeze.

"No, I don't," she stammered. "I think there are reasons for everything, and I think most people want to get along. Fighting doesn't solve your problems. It just teaches you to feel vindicated by someone else's anger. That's nowhere near as nice as getting along and being happy."

It was hard to tell if she'd gotten through to him or not. Vale had trouble admitting there were things in the world he didn't know.

"Yeah, maybe," he said with a shrug, but his voice held a tiny bit of recognition. "I mean, I was gonna apologize anyway."

ooo

Terra threw herself into the rest of the day's chores, if only to keep from breaking down completely. She couldn't tell if it was the recent stress, lack of sleep, her newest pang of failure, or some unholy combination thereof. All she knew for sure was that she was too edgy to clean the dishes.

She did her best to attend to her ordinary motherly responsibilities, but everything came out weak and apologetic. The children were so bewildered by her sad detachment that by dinnertime they had stopped quarreling altogether. Instead they watched from a distance with curious eyes and whispered amongst themselves. Even Duane and Katarin joined in the speculation.

"What happened to Mama?"

"Vale, did you make her cry?!"

"I didn't! She just got like that!"

"Maybe she's..." Susanna gave Katarin a significant look. "You know..."

"Susanna! Absolutely not! Really, of all the ridiculous things..."

Terra would have reassured them if she thought she had anything positive to say. As it was she simply felt hopeless. She cooked with a heavy heart, barely able to summon a smile in response to stories of victories and adventures. Sabin's gift, a big pink hat with a bright bow, elicited no more than a breathless "oh! oh, thank you...", inaudible over all the squealing.

Why can't I be involved? What's wrong with me? Then she remembered Vale's criticism and winced. The guilt she felt for being so ineffective was compounded with the guilt she felt for isolating them, which doubled back into making her feel worse. It was too much to bear.

It's not that I don't care, she tried to say, struggling to rise above the crushing weight that dulled her senses. I love you more than anything in the world. I just...it's my fault. I'm sorry.

I can't...

After everyone had been marched through the usual bedtime routine Terra took a seat by the meager fire. It was her way of doing penance; maybe not quite as arduous and strict as Sabin's, but meaningful nonetheless. She would have to come to terms with her emotions if she wanted to move forward. Any more moping would just upset the children more.

"Are you all right?"

She should have been annoyed, or at least indifferent, but she was secretly cheered by the interruption. The sound of his voice---concerned but not prying, with a touch of good-natured cluelessness---was more soothing than any amount of material comforts. "I don't know," she said, not moving. It wasn't until she smelled a hint of bittersweet chocolate that she turned around.

"Sabin! Is that the cake from the top shelf in the pantry?!"

Sabin paused mid-mouthful, obviously unsure of what to do with the telltale slice in his hand. "Uh, there's no right answer to this, is there?"

"Well..." She didn't want to dwell on it. Occasional kitchen mishaps were inevitable, but it struck her especially hard when ingredients were so scarce. "I made it for Ramir's birthday. I'm not sure what happened, but it fell in the oven and the texture wasn't right, and it probably needs more sugar. I was going to let the cows have it."

"So I'm not in trouble then?" He sat down next to her and offered her a piece, which she tacitly refused.

"Come on, don't! It's terrible."

"It's not terrible, it's delicious cake. I must eat it."

His conviction was enough that Terra decided to let it go. She didn't understand how he could eat that disaster of a cake like it was a real treat, but it was just another one of the many things about him that eluded her. He was so serious-minded and yet so...ridiculous.

"So anyway, what's bothering you? Is it the hat? I know it's pretty over the top."

She watched him in the dim firelight. Even as he lay back, wiping his chin of stray cake crumbs, he seemed to fill up the whole room. Everything around him only served to emphasize his easygoing gravity. No matter what he did, she thought, there could be no undoing it. He was simply too big.

"It shouldn't be anything," she began. She knew he didn't really think it was the hat that bothered her; it was a gentle opener for her to answer as openly as she chose. "Vale asked me about my family. He said I was too optimistic about people, that sometimes they just weren't nice. And I...and I saw that I wasn't ever a child like he was, or like any of the children are, and that I can't relate to them because I never..." Terra wanted to stop, but her words were tumbling out faster than she could catch. "I can't try to help them through their problems when I didn't have them myself, and it's all so strange to me sometimes, and if I can't teach from experience I shouldn't teach at all, and everything with Private Macilvain made me think that I don't even know when they're in danger, and..." A flood of tears would have been a relief, but she was too tired to cry. Instead she hugged her knees and took several shuddering breaths.

Sabin propped himself up on his elbow. "You really think your past keeps you from being a good mother?"

It was a great credit to him that he didn't immediately reach out to hold her or dismiss her anxiety with a pithy saying. It was an honest conversation between two adults---two equals. When was the last time that had happened? When had she last spoken to someone on her level, as opposed to either dispensing advice or asking for it?

"I don't see how it couldn't. There's such a gap between their world and mine."

"Sure, but that doesn't make you unfit, necessarily. It's not like being a professor. You don't practice for years and take exams. Do you think Duane and Katarin shouldn't be parents either?"

"They had real childhoods, real families..."

"I bet they were just as unprepared. Besides, you can't limit yourself to what you know. You have to be willing to accept your circumstances and do new things." He turned away with a faint smile. "You taught me that, Terra."

"I...I don't remember saying something like that," she mumbled, her cheeks hot. Unsure of how to respond, she hurried to change the subject. "It is true, isn't it? Like how Setzer appointed himself the official apparel ambassador of southern Figaro?"

The memory made Sabin laugh out loud. Well, it served Parliament right for not reading legislation more carefully. "That could be an example."

"Why did he do that, anyway? Just to see if he could?" It seemed like he had a different motive than choosing to be a mother, but there was no accurately gauging anything Setzer did. Who knew? Maybe he felt a need to nurture and support, too.

"Boredom, I think." There was more to it than that, of course; Setzer had sacrificed much of his freedom so that Edgar could have an illusion of his own. There was no telling how they had developed such a rapport, or even why, but the two of them were close in a way only highly intelligent, ambiguously feminine men could be. "No, I guess he takes pride on keeping Edgar...regaled. If you can put it like that." Sabin always tried to be delicate with words when it came down to his brother's relationships, but he just fumbled everything around. "You know, Setzer once told me that he always tried to go to bed without any regrets. I think he'd tell you to do the same."

"But I do have regrets! I regret not being able to understand why they fight, or share in the sorts of milestones that they experience, or see things from their view. It shouldn't upset me so much, but---" She sneezed, sneezed again, then three more times. "Oh! Excuse me."

"I don't think you're at a disadvantage. If anything, you're even more capable. You're going through it all for the first time right alongside them. That's pretty special."

"That's not what they need. They need an authority."

"My father was an authority on everything in the world, but if I had fifty gil for every time he swore he had no idea what to do with Edgar and me, I'd be a millionaire. All kids are unpredictable in different ways. There's no use in expecting yourself to be on top of every situation."

"I suppose you're right." As much as she wanted to believe it, there was some block that stubbornly refused to let go of her fears.

"Is this..." In an extraordinary moment of caution, Sabin hesitated. "Is this because of Macilvain, or have you felt this way for all these years? I've never heard you talk like this."

"Well," she said, and the whole living room blurred in and out of sight, "Macilvain reminded me." Terra glanced towards the window. The panes were bulging inwards with the weight of heavy snow. All the delicate little flurries had turned into a raging blizzard, and somehow it made her dizzy.

"Of what? How does he reflect on you?"

"Of all my weaknesses. First it was though I couldn't defend them, then I felt like I couldn't speak to them. I..." Again the words died out from within, drowned in a dull, uncomprehending fog. What's wrong with me?

Sitting up suddenly required much more energy than she had. A timely intervention from Sabin kept her from pitching face-first into the fireplace.

"I'm sick," she announced, only now realizing it.

He kept a loose grip around her waist. The apprehension in his voice was replaced with wry amusement. "Thought so."

Fever made her bold and she leaned back against his chest. Perhaps the sickness gave her some leeway she wouldn't have otherwise had, or maybe she was just taking advantage of a situation (well, Setzer could at least be proud of that), but for once she didn't lose herself in questions. For the moment it was good enough to feel comfortable and safe.

"You need to take better care of yourself."

Terra gave a thorough outline of her polite disagreement with a noise like "mmrgh". Undaunted, Sabin went on.

"I know you don't think of yourself very much, but it's bad for both you and the kids. You tried so hard not to worry them by keeping it in that you just wound up worrying them more. The least you could do is wear a coat when you go outside in freezing weather."

"I shouldn't have, I know."

He gave her a tight squeeze as admonishment. "You care so much about everyone else that you forget how it is that you can care for them in the first place. You can't help if you're sick."

"I didn't mean to." Her whole face was hot again. It had nothing to do with any number of heartfelt compliments; she really did need a shower. Still, it seemed so unfair to have to move...

"---and if you'd just rest every once in a while---"

Terra barely heard him. In retrospect, today had been a hard day, not a failed one. She wasn't inadequate, she was sick. If she had the strength she would've laughed at her own melodramatic despair.

"Thank you, Sabin," she said contentedly. For the first time in months she had a very good idea of what the next day would look like, and it didn't trouble her at all.

"Uh? You're...you're welcome." If he didn't know what she was talking about, he was reluctant to ask. Maybe he didn't want to move either. Well, her shower could wait a little longer.

Because I can't be perfect...

And I shouldn't be upset that I'm not.

It doesn't mean that I love my family any less.

Thank you for reminding me.