8. DREAMS

Having finally found rest for my mind in the solace of being alone, I slept away most of the pain.

I rose sometime later- it could only have been an hour at the most -and readied myself for the dinner as Yuna had asked. I bathed briefly in perfumed water that the Guado supplied to each guest of the inn (feeling that it may do something to mask the scent the Guado were so keenly tuned to) and tied my hair back once more. Glancing briefly in the mirror I smiled, noting that nothing of my appearance had changed, and took special care to raise my collar high past my mouth to cover the worst of the scars.

They departed the inn as a group and I fell into step a short distance behind them, as if I had not been gone at any point. We were ushered into the Maester's residence much like sheep and, after minutes of standing unattended in the foyer, a door near the stairs opened. Seymour stepped through it.

He led us to a banquet hall filled with tables of food and lush flowers and, I noticed immediately, no tables or chairs. "This is to be our 'dinner', then?" I asked, a hint of sarcasm on my voice. "What a lush supper to draw the Summoner away from her journey."

Seymour's eyes narrowed on me the same moment Yuna gasped "Sir Auron!" and dissolved into multiple apologies. I tore my gaze from his stare, so empty it made me uncomfortable, and made my way to the edge of the room. Tidus followed in an act of solidarity and watched Yuna keenly as she spoke with the Maester.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes soon to an hour, and I found myself slumping in the shoulders and leaning back against the crystal wall. My eyes drifted lazily about the room to each group- Wakka and Lulu standing in quiet converse, their faces the usual look of worry; Kimahri watching Yuna with careful eyes as she sat calmly beside Seymour; Tidus and Rikku side-by-side with arms crossed and furrowed brows. This last group I strode towards and I reached through the center of them to a crystalline glass of water on the table, the vessel the very picture of opulence...waste.

Rikku started and turned her head upward to meet my eyes, and she murmured, "E ryja y pyt vaamehk ypuid drec saadehk."

I nodded in assent to her words and Tidus cocked his head in confusion before she repeated her words in Spiran to him. I couldn't help but smile at it, our language that only she and I (and possibly Yuna, though I'd not seen her speak it yet) could fluently understand. Somehow it seemed to bond us together with all our secrets, which of itself was ridiculous- myself a dead man and her the very picture of life.

We all looked up as Yuna and Seymour finally stood, and he directed us to the opposite end of the room and through a large door in the corner. He led us into the darkness- I kept a tight grip on the concealed blade beneath my coat at all times -and called something quietly into the distance, directed no doubt to one of his handservants.

Immediately the air flashed to life, pyreflies flashing past our cheeks in a haze of light. Squinting at the sudden visual onslaught, I looked to the ceiling to find a large sphere set in the crystal roof. Somehow Seymour, or someone in his line, had managed to harness the power of a recording sphere and translated it into a moving, three dimensional film of sorts.

The pyreflies dwindled and beneath our feet was an array of lights. I heard the boy gasp beside me and looked to the floor intently.

Zanarkand, in all the glory it had possessed weeks (months? Time was hard to keep track of postdeath) previous. Citizens strode through the streets like a colony of ants, eager to reach their destinations or targets. The room we stood in seemed to act as a capsule, guiding us through the air on a set path, and I stood unmoving and observed all that around me. The dock, with all its houseboats floating calmly in the indigo sea. The lights from the street signs, making it seem perpetually night. The stadium in the distance, statues of fighters forever at the ready before the entrance.

And for a moment, a blonde child clinging in fear to a pale but gentle hand. I looked back as we soared past, but the image was gone in a heartbeat.

Seymour spoke then, leaned over with his mouth near Yuna's cheek and his taloned hands resting gently on her shoulder and arm. I clenched as I saw this, but as she had not yet protested I remained where I stood. Soon the image came to rest in a room, decorated as if for kings, and containing only a ghost.

Yunalesca, reclining languidly on her bed, eyes on the doorway we now stood near. I narrowed my eyes to her and she seemed to gaze deep into me, though I knew it truly was more past me than anything else. My hand drifted gently to my collar, to the scar she had inflicted that had bled me dry.

For some time Seymour spoke only to Yuna, pointing out various points in the 'story' of this room from the past. Soon another figure entered, another ghost, who swept Yunalesca into his arms.

In that moment, a chill tore down my spine as the fading Yunalesca, head resting gently on the new figure's shoulder, opened her eyes and seemed to smile directly at me.

Paranoia from years long past.

The lights came to life once more and we were led out to the banquet hall once more, not by Seymour, but one of his handservants. Yuna remained behind, Seymour saying something intently to her. Before I could protest the two of them alone together I was unceremoniously ushered through the door and back into the foyer. At our group's protestation the doors remained open a crack, but it was painfully obvious that the Guado was saying something his people and servants considered of utmost importance. Something not for outsider ears.

"I don't trust him," Rikku whispered from the corner of her mouth, standing only a few feet away from me. My worry outweighed my relative discomfort in proximity.

"I never did," I replied to her, leaning against the wall in such a way that I could still observe through the tiny crack in the door every gesture Seymour made. "His personality reeks of something hidden."

"I thought so too." Rikku crossed her arms across her chest, her forehead creased in discontent. "And why does he need to talk alone with Yunie?"

I could only shrug.

The Guado servants turned to face her and I at Rikku's words, no doubt briefly catching a hint of conversation on the air. We hushed immediately, sharing a single glance between the two of us. It spoke volumes: Something important, and terrible, was taking place.

Finally, Yuna stepped through the doors to the banquet hall and rushed quickly past us, pausing at the front doors to curtsy shortly to the Guado holding them open for her and to nod behind herself in Seymour's direction as he too emerged. The smile on her face was far too forced. She was scared, it seemed.

I was the last to follow. My steps were halted when, alone in the foyer with only Seymour and his many servants, I heard, "Why are you still here, sir?"

I turned to face Seymour and removed the glasses covering my eyes. His chilling, challenging smile faded as he saw the multiple scars and gashes etched on my skin.

Letting myself smile in an equally chilling and challenging manner, I said in a painfully calm tone, "I have no idea what you mean, Seymour," and left the room.


xXx

"He asked me to marry him."

Near a secluded fountain in the edge of the enclave, Yuna had finally stopped rushing from us only to sit and wrap both arms around herself.

"What?" Tidus asked deadpan and for the first time he didn't hide in any way his feelings for the Summoner. He looked a mixture of terrified, angry and sickly at once. I felt for him but remained silent, contemplating the news Yuna had just bestowed upon us.

"He said...he said it would make Spira 'happy' to be alive for such a joyous event. That it would make everyone so much more happy than any Blitzball game could. He said...he said we could lead Spira." She laughed- a hint of bitterness on it? -and closed her eyes tightly. "I don't know what to do."

"Say no!" Tidus exclaimed, but was silenced by a wave of Lulu's hand. She sat near Yuna and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her left ear.

"He is probably right," Lulu admitted, smiling sympathetically. "People would be thrilled. It would be something to take away the pain Sin has caused at the end of this last Calm."

"You have a pilgrimage," I finally said, firmly and loud enough that our group all heard and understood. "You have your duty." You're the only one that can destroy him. You can't give up. I kept my inner thoughts to myself.

"You could marry and still take part in your pilgrimage." I knew Lulu was merely playing devil's advocate, offering the opposite side of the coin. It did nothing to sooth Yuna's turbulent thoughts.

After some minutes spent waiting for her to reply, Yuna finally stood. "I need to sleep. I can't think about this tonight. I must pray for guidance and rest and...talk to my father."

Our group nodded and together made its way back to the Inn. Rikku surged through to the front and reached out to grip her cousin's hand. The gesture seemed to comfort the Summoner, who murmured something hushed in the special language only she, her cousin and myself apparently shared. I was not close enough to hear her words, nor had I any desire.

Marriage? It had never factored into my plan. Why had I not seen it coming, after all the private words Seymour had been sharing with her since shortly after Luca, at least. All the looks of animal lust he had given her that had given me no other desire than to rend his head from his neck. What an ill-timed proposal.

Each of us took our separate route to reach our private rooms. I could hear, through the wall, the sound of hushed praying- not to any Fayth, but to a friend I'd lost long ago.

xXx

That night, I tossed and turned with violent dreams.

At first I was imprisoned once more in the bowels of Bevelle, alone on a caged floor and suspending forever above thrashing waters. With the press of a single switch a prisoner would be cast into the water and left to drown- though it would seem a relief after the weeks of starvation and malnutrition each would have to go through before the monks were done with them.

I would be visited by my intended (and refused). She would laugh at me in my place, taunting me with small stabs to my pride and my skill. Her face would sometimes turn to Yunalesca's and I would cringe and back away, unable to defend from another killing blow.

And then, Zanarkand. I lay broken and battered on a dock in the dead of night, rain pouring down upon me, and where Tidus should have wandered outside to see what was wrong, there was only silence. Despite my slight dislike of the boy, the complete lack of him- and therefore any compassion whatsoever -made my dream self writhe in both physical and emotional pain.

The final dream was one I often expected. Silence on the air. I could hear only my own breath. Darkness all around except for on the suspending platform I now stood.

And she sat before me, idly plaiting her hair over her shoulder, seemingly oblivious to the blood on her hands and coursing down her arms- dried, by now, like heroic marks of battle.

As always, she would never speak to me as I strode toward her. As I neared I could see the trophies wound into the many plaits in her hair- scraps of clothing from those she had sent to their deaths in the name her Lord Zaon. Her newest, completed braid was made up of a mixture of rich purple and striking orange. And even then, she worked on a new one. Crimson.

At that instant she would stop her task, stand and near me. I would try to speak, try to snarl all the obscenities I desired to unleash on her, but it would be as if I were mute.

She then smiles and laughs. She flicks her hair away like a young, precocious teenager.

And then, without a noise, she reaches through my collar, past my skin and muscle and bone, and impales me on her own clawed arm.

I woke at that instant, crying out in a sudden stab of pain long past, and reached forward to grip the neck of my dream vision in an effort for it to stop.

The dream stopped, yes. But the whites of her terrified eyes didn't fade, and no words could get past her air-starved lips, and I realised in a moment of clarity I held not air, not dream, but flesh.

Rikku was choking.

I released my grip on her neck in horror and backed away on the bed. Somehow I had managed to not only sit up while still sleeping, but had seemingly slammed her into the wall by her neck as well.

She coughed, both hands at her neck. She avoided my eyes and I felt a new pang of regret and worry, something I had not felt so strong in at least ten years.

"Are you hurt?" I asked breathlessly, touching her arm gently. She flinched away and got to her feet quickly, taking deep and steady breaths.

Finally able to breathe, Rikku nodded. I could see the red marks on her neck where my hands had lain.

"I'm fine. I heard you...I wasn't just sneaking around or anything." How funny, that I had nearly killed her and yet she seemed more worried about how she was seen rather than how she felt.

"Heard me?" I asked in confusion, lowering my voice as I realised it was still night.

"You were...I don't know, moaning or something. Like a wounded animal."

Sleep revealed all vulnerabilities to the world. I look away from her in shame.

"I was going to wake you. Bad idea, huh?" She smiled and sat on the bed beside me, her brow furrowed. "Were you having a bad dream?"

"Many," I admitted, still ashamed of my show of weakness. "Those memories that you proclaimed were 'so nice' on the Farplane bridge...they are not kind to me."

"I think we all have some of those." An awkward silence followed, and then she set a hand on my bicep and squeezed lightly. "It's okay to let them get the best of us sometimes, you know?"

I said nothing. I could not bring myself to agree with her.

"Anyway, you seem okay now. I just wanted to make sure." She stood to leave.

"Rikku."

She stopped as my hand gripped the wrist of her retreating form. She turned to look back at me expectantly, no fear or horror in her eyes. I wondered if she was merely skilled in deceit or if she truly felt no different after my attack.

"Yes, Auron?" she murmured, smiling. I noticed her omission of my usual 'sir' title, but said nothing about it. In but two days she had managed to make her way into my life in an uncomfortable way and even the most intimate of gestures seemed not as horrifying as before.

"Thank you," I said, lowering my face. "You saved me from my own mind, in a way."

Rikku laughed. "All I did was wake you up, silly. Don't worry about it. I'll be around for quite a while longer. At least long enough to be your personal alarm clock, anyway." She touched a hand gently to her neck. "But no more throttling me, okay? I'm gonna be eating cereal through a straw if you keep that up."

Her injection of humor on the situation did much to ease my guilt. I did nothing more, said nothing more. The discomfort of our friendship-of-sorts left me dumbfounded most of the time, but for once I felt silenced and somewhat humbled instead of the awkwardness.

She left. And for some reason unknown, I felt a pang of longing.


A/N- The horizontal bars weren't working for me, so I was forced to go back to an old style of page break I used to use. Reviews appreciated. :)

+Al Bhed Translation: "I have a bad feeling about this meeting."