The Side Effects of Unoriginality

Author's Note: I do not own FFX-2. I simply own the plot and grammatical errors.

I have to apologize. Hurricane-5 did in fact review for my chapter three. I'm sorry.

Also, I would like to apologize for being absent for such a long amount of time. My mother was in the hospital and as such, I had to work a little harder to make sure things were settled here at home. I did miss you all, and I apologize for leaving you in the dark for so long. Now, on with the chapter!

Chapter 5: Synchronicity

I walked into the room, half expecting to be killed on sight with traitorous glares and crude if not unnecessary remarks. I received none of this, however. It was shrilly quiet. I say shrilly because I could still hear everything that wasn't being said quite clearly. Their eyes were all screaming magnitudes at me, piercing my tender ears until they were ragged, as ragged as their inner minds had to be from that massive outburst. I was surprised to find that I was the only one who could hear it.

Standing there, all of them were, gaping at me with their bewildered eyes. I can only ever get to imagine what I looked like, since I didn't ever actually take a gander at myself before I went into the room where they all stood, hawking over me maliciously. I only stood there and took on their visual decapitation, my bottom lip strong, my resolve unwavering. I wouldn't let them get the best of me—in my mind or on the bridge. I wasn't desperate enough of them to fling myself at their feet and beg for their return. Not yet, at lease. The breaking point was nearer than I thought.

The screams rose a decimal and I had to cover my ears mentally just to prevent myself from being consumed in their mass hysteria. It was overwhelming, but I managed it, somehow. I stood there, unaffected, but buckling under their intensity, under their pressure. Their eyes did not let up as they bore into my soul and I had to wonder how longer I'd been standing there, a victim to their collective conscious. It wasn't a parody of time so much as a mockery of the reason for being summoned. It was repulsive, watching them gawk at me like that. I hated it.

So I tore my eyes from them and separately, I took them into my mind, one at a time. There was Paine leaning against the wall, the same way she always did when she wasn't feeling her usual, withdrawn self, not that she ever sat down. Beside her was Buddy, who seemed just every bit as uncomfortable as I was. Next to him was Shinra and then Brother. Cid was off to my other side, Yuna directly in front of me. And here we all were again, consumed in this screaming torment, locked in time.

I let the blood rush to my ears in this intensity, swallowing hard just to keep from falling out again. It was nostalgic and painful and lovely and disastrous all at once. I didn't know what to feel first. All of my emotions were begging for recognition and my head was swimming in the feel of reality, for once on my side. They were real, I assured myself, they were here now, with me. They had to be real, or I prayed for an eternal illusion, a complete dream world.

And then I heard it, the faintest of sounds. I was surprised that I could hear it over their loud, screaming eyes. But I heard it. It was…soft. It was music to my ears without being so cliché. It was something I had missed, something I don't think, to this day, that I'll ever get tired of. The sound was familiar.

"Rikku…" Yuna breathed again, her voice hesitant and wavering as she spoke, taking the tiniest step forward. She reached her arms out to me, but retracted them immediately. "You look awful," she murmured.

"Gee. I wonder why," I hissed back coldly, crossing my arms over my chest in defiance.

"Rikku—," she tried pleading, but I cut her off.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, suddenly bored with her concerned eyes. They were fake anyway, right? Fake emotions from a fake friend. That seemed right.

"Why are you being like this?" she asked, recoiling at the venom so apparent in my voice.

"Why am I being like this?" I asked, echoing her feigned sincerity. I laughed once, brisk and cold, something so unusual to me. "Look at the distance between us. It's more than physical. It's…emotional. Look at what you've done to me…"

I wasn't angry. I was resolved. There was nothing more painful than my realization of what it all meant. The separation, the distance, the empty letters—it was so obvious now that all they wanted was a clean break. A clean break away from me. I bit my bottom lip, not because I felt regret for what I'd just said to my cousin; I felt bad for having dragged this out for so long, especially when it was something I'd known all along.

"Fydlr ouin suidr," my father warned, noticing the pained tension that had suddenly mounted between us two cousins. He was protective of his family, in case it had gone unnoticed.

But I was in no mood for his antics. My feelings had been hurt too, and I was sure he hadn't really forgotten. But like me, he had hoped that it wasn't either of their faults. He'd seen how close we were. He wanted to hide in denial and ignorance like me. He wanted to live a lie. But I couldn't anymore.

"Hu, vydran," I said harshly, the strength of my voice scaring me. "Drao ryja du ghuf fryd ed fyc mega vun sa!" I said, before turning back to my cousin, now petrified at my ferocity.

Something whispered through us just then, passing from one to the next. I was the last to feel it and I shivered under its intense pressure. It wasn't hot or cold, but it made me shiver with anticipation. I was waiting for something, waiting for the dam to burst forth. I guess they were waiting too. It was so obvious in their held breaths.

"Do you have any idea what it was like…?" I asked hollowly, my anger subsiding, but only to allow my pain a chance to speak. Everyone in the room remained quiet. "Do you know what you two put me through—put all of us through?" I couldn't care less for the answer of the real reason behind it. All I knew was the pain it caused.

"Rikku," Paine began, but I silenced her with a fierce gaze that rivaled her own.

"I don't care," I said, my voice breaking at the end. My resolve was shattering, only because it was slowly fulfilling its use. "I don't…I can't care. Don't you see? You two abandoned me."

"It's not like that, Rikku," Yuna urged, rushing a few steps closer to me. I couldn't deny the honest pleading in her eyes, but I wasn't in the mood to listen.

"Do you want to tell me what it was like, Yuna? I see that neither you nor Paine has suffered any major damage. There was no murmur of anything dangerous having happened—else I'd have heard about it via the comsphere network. So you've got me wondering. What could in all of Spira could have been so important that you decided it was a good idea to abandon me here…after…after you promised that things wouldn't change?"

I had hit the mark. I cringed under the venom I was hissing with now and I hated myself for being so cruel to them. Nothing they did deserved this…did it? But I remembered the promise we made, I remembered it so well. It happened here, where its brokenness was slowly being revealed. I found that to be odd. It was a strange sort of circle, the place where things came to be and suddenly found themselves ended. That was a strange coincidence, though I didn't believe in them actually. Coincidence was another flick-of-the-wrist trick. In the end, it was all smoke and mirrors in the end, wasn't it? Why should I act like I had been fooled? That was foolish in itself.

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One year earlier

We'd been standing there, much the same we were standing now. I remembered crying before I made it there. It was emotional and I knew it was only going to get worse. I was a sucker for these things, a glutton for punishment, Paine had teased once. But this wasn't something any of us could laugh about. It was inevitability at its best and to its call, all any of us could do was answer swiftly, answer curtly. So we filed out of rooms in silent monotones, although our footsteps echoed loudly, reminding us of the distance, of the distance that was to follow.

But things had to happen this way. I kept telling myself that as I walked. It had already been born into reality. The three of us felt less connected. It was death that swelled up in the void of what had once been happiness and laughter. Something had died, I just wasn't sure what it was until I saw their faces.

"Rikku," Yuna said tentatively, as if she was trying to feel me out. Obviously she and Paine already had this conversation and I was the last one to be clued in. so I gave her a strange look, not menacing, just strange. "Listen…you know that you're my best friend," she said, her voice still shaken with worry. Paine just stood across from me, nonchalant as ever.

"Yunie, what's wrong with you?" I asked immediately, seeing through her clever disguise.

"I told you to just spit it out already," Paine said, her voice dull and uninterested. Yup, my suspicion was confirmed. They'd talked. "She can handle it, Yuna. She's not a baby anymore. She's all grown up now—so treat her like an adult already."

Yuna grimaced, not used to be scolded like that by her other best friend. She twisted her hands together in a worrisome manner and I immediately knew that something was terribly wrong. It was something that had Yuna perplexed and she was placating me, never a good sign. Mentally, she told herself something, straightened up and looked me square in the eyes. Of course, it helped that she'd closed the distance between us and trapped me in her grip, her hands set on either of my shoulders.

"Rikku," she said firmly, tugging me into an embrace. She trembled like she would cry, but she didn't say anything else. She just silently sobbed. I felt the blood rushing from my face.

"For heaven's sake, Yuna," Paine spat out, thoroughly agitated now. She crinkled her face up and with all the energy she could muster, she restrained herself from screaming the vile words into the open air. Instead she whispered them, which could have hurt more than the scream. At least screaming was meant to hurt. "We're disbanding," she said.

The word struck me light lightning, the intensity as fierce as rolling thunder. I stood there in Yuna's arms, suddenly grateful. If she hadn't been holding me, I'd be thrashing about like the kid I was, sick with a tantrum. The tears swelled up in my eyes, but I fought to keep them at bay. Before I lost myself to my emotions, I needed a basis. I needed logic and understanding.

I wanted a reason.

"Why?" I asked, my voice hollow against the silence that had devoured us whole. "Why now? Why all of sudden?" I couldn't understand their questioning eyes and it infuriated me to end to see the passiveness on either of their faces. Weren't they in the least bit hurt by this? Didn't they feel what I was feeling?

"It's been a long time coming," Yuna said, pulling away from me. She stared in my Al Bhed eyes and I stared into the only one I trusted now—the one green eye she had. "You've seen the distance we've put between ourselves, Rikku. Surely you must know…"

"That's not a good enough reason," I whimpered, unable to lift my eyes from the ground. "It's not a good enough reason to just say…to just say it's…over…"

The word fell from my mouth limply. It was hard enough to think, let alone be forced to say. I couldn't bring myself to believe that it was over. Not like this…it didn't seem right. But from their determined stares, neither of them focused on me, I knew that it must be true. This was what they wanted. This was their final decision. Trapped in ironclad resolve, there was no way I could dissuade them from this. It was inevitable.

"The Gullwings are over," said Paine, lacking all the emotion most human beings had. She was more heartless than a rock. "Give it up already, Rikku. You're the only one still living in that ridiculous fantasy. Don't you see? We're tired of this charade of sphere hunting. It's not what it used to be anymore."

I bit my bottom lip, trying to keep focused. It was hard to see past my own hurt, but I had to try and salvage what I could.

"We could change…we could do something else. How about—

"We already know what we want to do, Rikku," Paine cut in quickly, not sparing me a glance. "We're going to…continue on with our lives, where we left off before the whole Vegnagun thing took its toll on us. Yuna has things she needs to put in order with Tidus and I want to explore. I'm not looking for adventure, Rikku, and neither is she, not anymore."

"What is there left to have?" I asked.

"Fulfillment," Yuna said, also refusing to look at me. "Don't you see how lucky we are, Rikku? We all have the chance to do what makes us happy. Paine gets to see all of Spira—without having to fight off fiends and hunt for spheres. And I've found Tidus again. We get to pick up where we left off…"

"But what about me…?" I asked glumly, not really caring for the answer.

"You have your precious machina," Paine said, her arms now crossed over her chest. "And you have to help rebuild Home, don't you? Isn't that what all the Al Bhed do nowadays?"

I realized that there was no fighting my way out of this one. Slowly, I was going to have to accept this. There was no way around it and the two of them were making it perfectly clear that neither of them wanted any part in the Gullwings anymore. As far as they cared, it was over. So I stood there in my grief, staring between the two of them until finally, I gave up.

"Fine," I said. "If this is what you both want, then it's fine by me." I forced a smile, but the two of them were so wrapped up in their own minds, they didn't notice its insincerity. I felt a lump of pain rise to the back of my throat as I realized this. "Well, I guess it's goodbye then."

That sounded bitter. I was kicking them off the ship like it was mine. But neither of them had a right there anymore. It wasn't like I was going to take them to where they needed to go, or rather, where they wanted to go. I wasn't going to facilitate the source of my newly found pain anymore than I would help a danger to society become a danger to Spira. It wasn't my nature and I wouldn't bend for them anymore.

"Rikku," Yuna said, the day the two of them decided to leave. She took my hand in hers and she gave me a weak smile. "We promise…to keep in touch. Just because we're leaving the Gullwings doesn't mean we're leaving you, too."

"It sure feels that way," I said, not returning her gaze.

"We'll write to you and tell you everything that's going on, all right?" Paine said from behind me. I didn't look at her either, or even acknowledge the fact hat she was there. I just sorta shrugged uninterestedly.

"Yes," said Yuna, agreeing, "we'll write to you, Rikku. And we'll talk on the comsphere network and make play dates and get together often. It'll be like we never really left. That'll make sure we never lose this, our friendship, that is."

"Do you promise?" I asked, perking up at the sound of this.

"Yes, it's a promise," they said together, wrapping their arms around me before departing.

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If only I knew then what I knew now. If only I knew that the play dates would never come. If only I knew that the comsphere chats were only lies. If only I knew they didn't want me in their lives anymore. If only I knew…then maybe I wouldn't feel so bad now. Maybe I'd have a fighting chance. But Time must have hated me. He never granted me foresight; he never let me have anything peaceful. It was always painful for me and now was no different.

I watched as Yuna and Paine shared strange glances, something like guilt passing between them. I wanted them to feel guilty. It was their fault anyway, so let them feel guilt. Let them wallow in that pain. I didn't care anymore. I was beyond forgiving and I wouldn't lie to them anymore and act like I could be happy with them there. After this…how could I?

"You two made me a promise," I echoed dryly. "You made me a promise, both of you, and in the same fashion, you broke it. Both of you."

Anyone who knew me knew how loyal I was to my friends. I was beyond loyal. I was a life's servant, if you wanted. I was dedicated to the happiness of my friends and I'd do anything for them, for those people I knew would always have my best interests in mind, too. I'd do almost anything for those people I called friend—Paine and Yuna highest on that list. But here I was, dwindling in my own self-loathing for having pined so desperately for their attention, attention they thought was better spent on trivial things. Other friends, I'm sure.

I smiled sourly into the air, facing no one particularly. Looking back on everything that had happened, I could say that I had come to hate my dedication. I had given up my self just to wait them out, hoping they'd come to their senses and remember that I was Rikku—I was their Rikku. But no one ever remembered me. No one ever made mention to me—I was never around anymore because they didn't need me. I was useless then; I was an outdated tool, a broken weapon.

Staring at their sullen faces, I thought I had all I needed. Their pity, their grief—it soothed some part of me, but it wasn't enough. I needed things to be resolved, not gently glossed over and pushed underneath a blanket when visitors had arrived. I didn't want to think any more about this. I wanted it to be over.

"Why…why did you leave me out?" I finally asked, though I didn't look at either of them. This was starting to echo the ending all over. I didn't like the bitter taste it left in my mouth. In fact, I hated it.

"It wasn't like we had a choice, Rikku," Yuna squeaked. I could see the tears in her eyes, but that didn't make me feel better. It didn't make feel worse, either, but still. "We did what we thought was best, Rikku. You have to believe me…we thought we were doing the right thing."

"The right…thing?" I said, not sure I'd heard her right.

"We thought distance would be enough for you. We thought if we gave you a reason to, then you'd want to grow up and act like an adult. We thought you'd learn to be all right on your own. We did it because we wanted to help you, Rikku," said Paine.

Her voice wasn't as cold as it should have been, given my growing temper. She was always the one to keep me in check. But not this time and I wondered why. It was only then I noticed that something like regret lingered on her granite features. Was she feeling sorry?

"You didn't do anything for me," I said, turning from them. "No, I take that back. You did do something for me. You abandoned me…you cut me out of your lives. You showed me what it's like to be rejected. I guess I'm grateful. Who can teach you a lesson better than those you love and trust most? I'm grateful. I wouldn't have been able to have this experience any other way."

I was on the elevator before my words sunk in and by then, there was no turning back.

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I'd taken Dezba and abandoned the Celsius. I couldn't be on the same ship as them tonight. If I could have avoided it, I would have been in a different part of the world as them. But I could not, so I found my comfortable spot at the Oasis, a secret place, an Al Bhed place. Surely, I'd be safe here.

Dezba found a place to lie beside me, his eyes half-lidded as he watched me toss another tiny piece of metal into the water like it was a rock. It skipped once or twice before settling into the clear blue water. I wade it, fish it out and repeat the cycle. My god was I bored. But it gave me something to do, kept my hands from becoming idle. God knows I didn't want my hands to become idle…I'd strangle myself with them.

I felt like crap for being so mean to Paine and Yuna. Although anger was justified then, it wasn't in me anymore. So I felt bad. I regretted what I did—not enough to take it back, but just enough to feel the pain. That left me in a bit of a predicament, didn't it? Of course, it was only caused by my inability to stay wholly committed to anything in life. I was a coward and I would gladly admit it to anyone who didn't already know. I wasn't ashamed of my weakness. Shame was what could have made it a weakness, I suppose. To me, it was just something I needed to work on later…if ever.

My repetitiveness continued on for a long time. I would toss the metal hunk, wade into the water, fish it out and repeat. I was sitting on a rock so luckily for me, I didn't get any sand on or in my shorts. That would have been uncomfortable to wake up to—itchy underwear in the early, unconscious moments of the morning? That had to be what hell was like, I was sure.

"You seem awfully lonely out here," Rosemary said from behind me. "Although, given that marvelous performance from before, I can hardly imagine another reason for you being out here with naught but your Dezba. But even he seems to be out of it."

Rosemary came to sit against a nearby rock, folding her arms against her plump chest. The gracious Al Bhed woman smiled at me as I stood in the water up to my waist, the cool waves lapping at my upper body. She was standing in her long, flowing red dress, though it was the coolest thing around, since she wasn't the skimpy type, not like me. I wore as little as possible and she reveled in being clad in full garments and not being any warmer than I was. There had to be something about this Al Bhed woman that I just wasn't seeing. Maybe I'd grow up and be like her. Maybe.

"What'd you expect me to do, Rosemary?" I asked, my voice almost playful. "They're not exactly machina. I can't just take them apart and scatter their remnants over the desert, you know," I teased, coming to sit beside her, on the rock instead of against it. I twirled the metal shard in my hand.

"You wouldn't have minded," she said breezily, the wind taking on her gentle approach. I knew that she wanted to say something, but she was taking her time, like she always did. "It would have given you time. Time…it always seems to be against you," she noted.

"You noticed that, huh?" I asked, smiling in spite of myself.

"Who couldn't have noticed? Just as you getting your bearings, you have to face them, all out of breath from your last encounter. You've got the worst luck in the world," the motherly Al Bhed woman said to me, a smile also tugging at the corners of her mouth. "But…I admire you, Rikku, more than you'll ever know."

"You…admire me?" I asked, trying to keep my mouth from becoming slack. I was incredulous at her comment, but found nothing that made me suspect insincerity. She was being honest.

"Yes, I do," she said, "very much, actually. Seeing you fight against everything that comes at you—it's inspirational, really. I've never seen anything like it, nor have I seen anyone nearly as stubborn as you. When I first met your father and he told me about you…I couldn't believe it. But when you came to my shop, all covered in who knows what, then I had to believe him. And then you saved me…and I saw for my own two eyes the fighting spirit that's in you. It's something you've never depended on…"

The last part wasn't a question. It was a statement; she knew things about me, things I didn't have to tell her. She knew me for me—not as the world's savior.

"With Paine and Yuna always by my side," I said, suddenly somber from the tone of her voice at the very end. "With them…I never had to. I knew that if I ever messed up in life doing anything worthwhile—or anywhere else that mattered—I knew I had them to back me up. I never had to think outside of my own individual aspect."

"You were dependent," she said. Again, it wasn't a question; she knew the truth, she was only saying it aloud for my benefit, since I seemed so ignorant to it nowadays. She said it so simply in her airy voice, something only a mother could do. "Dependency—in small or large quantities can be toxic, Rikku, especially if you've never learned to do things for yourself, especially if you've never once lived by yourself."

I didn't want to look at her, though I could feel her perceptive eyes eluding me into some softer comfort, something that could make me feel better about what I'd done. I guess I needed that in more ways than one, but still, did she have to be so controlling? So I looked at her and immediately, I wished that I hadn't. Trapped dancing in her brilliant eyes was something very akin to sadness. But it was much stronger than that. It was mourning…for me, I suddenly realized.

"Why are you so sad?" I breathed, no longer able to control my trembling emotions. I reached out to her pretty face but I settled for her slender hands. I pressed them to my hands and felt how cold they had become, despite the scorching heat the desert was radiating. "Rosemary? What's wrong with you?" I begged, suddenly very panicky. "Please—Rosemary! What's wrong?"

"I'm witnessing the death of a vivid, playful blossom, but in the fiery ashes, there's something more beautiful than the immature bloom," she breathed, pulling me very closely to her chest. She had her arms wrapped around my body and I suddenly shared her shivering. But I wouldn't let her be cold for long. I wrapped my arms around her, this woman who could have been my mother, and I breathed in her scent. She was my mother, as far as I was concerned. "My Rikku has grown up…into something more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. Look at you—look at this person you're becoming."

Sitting back in realization, I gaped at her, mostly because she was right. Without my ever knowing it, I'd grown into something more than just Rikku. I was me—I was something much greater than I'd once been. I wasn't just the Rikku who'd helped save the world anymore. I wasn't just the cousin to the ex-High Summoner Lady Yuna. I wasn't just a member of the Gullwings—ex-member. I was Rikku. I was someone I could be proud of, someone who didn't need to depend on others anymore.

"I guess…I'm not so dependent on them anymore," I said hollowly, wrapping my arms around my legs tightly. "Looks like you needn't worry about me anymore, Rosemary. I'm sure Cid will be oh so relieved, knowing that his little girl is all grown up now. Still, I don't think I'm ready for this, Rosemary. Being a grown-up isn't any fun."

"Fun varies. Do I seem bored to you?" she asked, already knowing what I'd say. So she didn't wait for me to speak, as I knew she wouldn't. "My life is full of adventures. They aren't the same as the things I did when I was younger. No, nothing nearly as reckless as that," she added offhandedly, thinking back to her youthful days with a smile. "But that doesn't mean I don't have fun anymore, Rikku. It's only different from what I used to know. I know what it's like now, so it's easier for me to…have fun, I suppose."

"Maybe that's what they meant," I echoed hollowly. "Fulfillment. I suppose…it varies by age. Different things mean different words for different people. What I want isn't always what I'll always want. Similarly, it's not always the same for everyone else—different people want different things. I couldn't see that before. I guess I wasn't ready to accept growing up and I was stubborn and I was childish. I shouldn't have blamed them at all…they were only…trying to help. But I can be a pain sometimes, can't I?" I sighed lightly.

"You can be, occasionally," she said, the notion polite, but I could see the laughter in her eyes.

"Hm," was all I said, a thoughtful flare rushing to the tip of my tongue to float off, into the air with that singular idea. Rosemary must have noticed it, but she didn't say anything, either. She was too polite, so she only peered at me, her chin resting on her crossed forearms as we stared together over the darkening desert, together welcoming the cooler atmosphere, even it would have us shivering later that night.

"You should thank them," she said softly, peering at me from the corners of her brilliant eyes as I got to my feet suddenly, not enough to scare her, as she'd already read my mind.

I turned to glance over at her and with a rare, new smile that I'd recently learned how to use, I welcomed the idea. "I know," I said, trotting off with Dezba at my side.

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As I walked down the hallway, I had to keep my bottom lip from trembling. Drenched in this new reality, I realized I couldn't be reckless anymore. Seventeen was the final grounds for childish antics and I was nearing nineteen already. Boy how time flies when you're running away from the rest of the world, I joked mentally, but found it ill-mannered and oddly out of place. I raised my hand to knock, but hesitated when I heard a strangled whimper on the other side of the door. I was frozen with anxious energy all of a sudden.

"Relax, Yuna," Paine said, sounding emotional herself. I could imagine her doing her very best to be comforting, but failing for her awkwardness with social contact.

"Oh—but Paine," Yuna wailed, likely throwing herself into the emotionally devoid adult. She would cling and sob until she'd reorganized her composure and thoughts. "How can we expect her not to hate us for what we did? Looking at her this afternoon, I hate myself so much! She has every right to have been like that towards us…I just wish…that we could have done things differently. I only ever meant to-t-t-t-t-t—,"

But Yuna's voice broke off and she was in tears again, loud, wailing tears that could have waken the Farplane if she got a decibel louder. She was likely smothered in Paine's chest, since she grew very quiet, even though I knew she was still crying. I felt bad for Yuna, knowing that I'd have done the same for either of my best friends, if I was as sure as she'd been. Looking at it from her point of view, I could see why she'd have done it. When I saw what I'd grown into because of them, I felt better, I felt stronger. Sure, I didn't need them in my life, but that didn't mean I didn't want them there. I'd missed them so much that it hurt and apparently it had been the same for them, too.

I knocked on the door, once, twice, and then the door opened. Yuna was standing where I could see one red-rimmed eye. I pushed the door open slowly and stared at her with a grim smile. I had done this to her and I couldn't have hated myself more. Then I looked over at Paine, who resembled Yuna, to a point. Naturally, Paine had more self-reserve than to immediately burst into tears, at least while someone else other than herself was around. But she'd cried some, too, I could tell.

"R-R-R-Ri-Rik-ku," Yuna stammered, her tears streaming forth. I couldn't stand her looking like that. I took her into my arms and smiled deeply, whispering comforting words into her ear. "What are you…doing here?" she asked, once she'd stopped trembling.

"She's throwing us off the ship," said Paine coldly, though I could sense that she was only trying to numb her own pain. "Only this time, she has more than a valid reason."

"It's funny how those things work," I said slowly, pulling away from my cousin, who misinterpreted my words. "No, Yuna," I cooed, "I'm not kicking you out. I've come here…to thank you, actually. I understand now…I'm grateful. The pain I suffered doesn't seem to matter now, since you two are here with me!" I squealed, tossing my arms around Yuna and maneuvering my way around to get Paine in on the action, too. "You two are my very best friends! I can forgive something like this—no prob!"

The two of them were skeptical and though it stung a little, I realized they had every reason to be. Talk about bi-polar. I was all over the place today. But when I laughed—wild, carefree and open to the rest of the world because I didn't care—they couldn't deny how characteristically Rikku it was.

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Author's Note: Chapter five has turned out longer than I expected. I actually thought I'd have to separate this into two pieces, but this works just as well. I do hope you are enjoying this as much as I am.

It would mean the world to me if you would review and give me your honest opinion. Thank you.

Translations

Fydlr ouin suidr. –Watch your mouth.

Hu, vydran. Drao ryja du ghuf fryd ed fyc mega vun sa! – No, father. They have to know what it was like for me!