Filling In The Blanks
Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy IX or any of its characters!
A/N: So I know it seems like a lifetime ago, but the Guest Reviewer who asked for a heart to heart between Dagger and Zidane – be on the lookout this chapter! :D That scene is fully dedicated to you!
Chapter 108: Light
Freya was hardly ever impressed.
But as she sat on a rickety old stool, her back just out of the tentative reach of the growing sunlight, one leg crossed confidently over the other with her arms folded over her chest, the Bermecian decided that the genome dreamer would never cease to surprise her.
He grunted as he struggled to sit up; she would never admit the way her body wanted to instinctively flinch every time he put pressure on the arm that she had seen nearly inside out during her makeshift surgery of his broken bones weeks ago.
"How long," he gritted his teeth, "ya th'nk we got b'fore she comes back?" the blonde asked her, squeezing his eyes shut against the hurricane of pain assaulting his already-exhausted body.
Freya's ears flickered, swiveling around as though listening for something he clearly couldn't hear.
"I would guess about ten minutes."
He nodded, though there was no follow up comment for several moments. Freya continued waiting patiently.
On that particularly sunny day in Madain Sari marked the third day since Zidane had first woken up screaming in the Healing Cove. Today was the first day that they'd let the slowing herbs wear nearly completely off before dishing him more, just to see what his status was.
This, Freya pondered, proved to be both good and bad in a variety of different ways. He was miraculously sitting up in front of her, but now, with more control over his actions and his mind, he was insisting she not force feed it to him – at least not yet.
He whined to Dagger long enough to convince her to rummage up some food before he was drugged dizzy and elusive again, and though she grudgingly padded out of the cave, she couldn't deny that he had to be hungry.
But Freya had been there, ready to grind up and administer this new concoction to the boy, and she had seen the way his eyes continued to shift to her. Hunger wasn't the only reason he insisted upon staying awake.
So there she was, sitting calmly on the stool Eiko had found for the puffing Doctor Tot, waiting for Zidane. She rather missed the blonde's uncaring company – people were still giving her strange looks (especially the Cleyrians) after her rampaging speech about Amarant; that felt like a lifetime ago already.
"So," he started, letting out a clarifying breath. She stopped fidgeting. "Give me all the gory details, Freya," he joked, though the pained and lopsided grin proved only to be half-joking. "How bad was it?"
Her ears pressed instinctively against her hair and she knew she made a face that gave away her cover. With the slightest bit of superstition, she crossed her fingers that he was still disorientated.
How to answer that question? How to dodge the full meaning of his words so she wouldn't have to be the one to tell him that Zenero was dead and Blank was petrified – Baku and Marcus missing and Cinna and Ruby broken? His first day with coherent thoughts and movement, and she was going to break him down again? They would have to knock him out cold, for no amount of paralyzing herbs wouldstop the boy from leaping up and marching out of Madain Sari to find his friends altogether.
While the wheels spun dangerously close to out of control in her mind, her expression settled blankly in the dim lighting. She barely even shrugged. "It was bad."
He released a big sigh through nearly closed lips, emulating the vibrating, horse-like noise that echoed off of the curvatures in the walls. "I mean… what really happened to me?"
There was her loophole.
She almost hated herself for not telling him the whole truth.
Almost.
"The fight in Alexandria – do you remember?"
He squinted his eyes, as though trying to see through an entire lifetime of pain. Did he remember anything that hadn't been the last few elusive weeks? Did he recall a time where pain didn't swell in his vision and his body was nimble and untiring? She wasn't sure, and from the expression on his face, maybe he wasn't either.
"I remember Mae," he said quietly, his hands folded together in his lap as his body slumped painfully forward. She couldn't keep her eyes off of the scars of early wounds Kuja had inflicted – deep and angry – scars that would no longer completely disappear, even with white magic. "Is she okay?"
Freya nodded, something like a smile coming to her face. At least that hadn't changed about Zidane. "Amarant and Eiko left with her as soon as we found her. She was unharmed, and was not endangered further in the two additional weeks we spent in Dali."
He flinched on instinct, and then winced at the too-quick of movement. "Two weeks?" he parroted, sounding miserable.
Freya bit her lip, deciding that maybe telling him part of the story would help ease his conscious a little. "It was not you holding us there. Beatrix was stabbed with the same dangerous anti-magic powder that Amarant was while we dwelled in Bermecia. We were on the move, for we had just escaped with you from the Alexandrian Castle. We did not have time to stop and search for herbs and cures for her." As she recalled those bitter first moments of escape, Freya realized with daunting surprise that even she could not submerge her mind into those memories.
She struggled with the details of Beatrix's injury. Was it really not as bad as they thought, and that was how she survived until Dali? Did they make it out of the forest faster than the lifetime they seemed to spend inside its shadowed walls? Or did they find an herb that helped heal her, so they could suspend her life long enough to make it back to the mayor's wife?
"Don't force yourself to remember," he told her gently, half-heartedly raising an arm in comfort. She appreciated the gesture though it was far from reaching her.
Freya backtracked in her own mind, attempting to shift through the horrible memories and the honest details of Zidane's abduction. A sudden excitement pressed into her chest, and she sat up straighter in the chair, uncrossing her legs and pressing her palms into her knees.
"Do you remember Avalanche? Your dreamer friend on the inside?"
Recognition rose and died in his eyes before he panted. "Avalanche?" he mumbled. "He was there?"
A sinking feeling filled her stomach like rain water to a gutter in the middle of a storm.
"We devised many plans to sneak into the open dungeon of the castle, but none had worked. Each night left us with less rest, and every time we approached, we lost more of our element of surprise. Baku gave us a shortcut, and we advanced on the opposite side of the river. Avalanche met us on the inside and brought us to you. He saved your life by keeping you alive until we reached you.
Zidane fell eerily silent for a moment, either unregistering or really picking it over in his brain. His eyes flickered back to hers for a moment before they fell back to the many red and blue dyed blankets around him.
Instead of letting him dwell too hard on the memory and make himself sicker, she continued with the gore that might not have been the best idea either. Maybe it was the lack of explanation about his friends that made her focus more on the details of his injuries.
"Your leg," she gestured to the leg, wrapped in gauze and tightly wound bandages, even after weeks of healing – both naturally and by magic – "it was shattered once more. Your right arm as well. I had to dig pieces of bone fragment from your muscle tissue – everything was exposed when we tried to clean the wound and rebreak the bone."
His face paled, gripping his arm subconsciously – and weakly.
"You had a concussion, a few broken ribs, and plenty of cuts, gashes and scrapes," she ranted on, her blunt tone helping Zidane's shoulders sag with each and every sharp word.
As she finished her sentence, however, she quieted. Seeing the broken boy in front of her, trying to stay brave and fighting so much to stay with them. She thought of the way she almost lashed out on her own when Puck was murdered in Bermecia – how she yearned for Fratley's presence so she could stay silent – so she didn't have to continually be the face of the dragon knight everyone wanted to be led by.
In that moment, Freya silently pondered what might have happened (or where she might have ended up) had Eiko not stopped her that drizzly evening. She might have given up.
And here was Zidane: two years ago, when she became reacquainted with the frightened but fierce little boy she met on a refugee boat, he knew nothing. He was foolish, weak, and mostly dismissed as a source of power, despite having displayed greatness in the simplicity of breaking Kuja's spell. And if one saw him now, they might say the same thing. But Freya saw the passion in his living being, and the will to be strong and protect those he loved.
She smiled then, standing from the stool and repositioning herself on the floor next to him. A ginger hand rested on his shoulder, careful not to cause any harm.
"For the first time in my life, I will say I am grateful for Kuja."
Zidane's eyes went wild.
"The spell he cast on you to send you into the dream world had lingering side effects; because you were in a comatose state, your body adapted to breathing by itself, and continuing your vitals without much effort on your part. It knew what to do when your mind's command fell silent. Without that, you might not be here... And I cannot for a moment longer imagine this resistance without you in a leading role. You are just as much a beacon of hope and courage to these people as Dagger is to civilians."
His jaw actually dropped. He and Freya had spent some tender moments together, but never did he realize she felt so strongly about his presence.
With her hand sliding down to the middle of his back, she guided him back down to a relaxed position. "If you want to count this day as a victory, be still when Dagger returns. I shall grind your herbs, but you must be sure to take them after you have eaten."
Sighing, the blonde dipped his head close to his chest. He closed his eyes and sucked in a long breath, suddenly exhausted. That was the most physical activity he'd gotten since the mad battle in Alexandria.
"I'm glad you were here today, Freya," he mumbled to her as his limbs, one by one, began loosening, the spasms not so potent since he laid back down.
"As am I," she responded, gently picking up the bushel of bulbed herbs off of the floor. "More than you might ever understand," it was nearly a whisper, but from the snide grin on Zidane's goofy face, she figured he heard it anyways.
"I hope you're happy with Eiko's charred catfish, because I had to fight multiple parties off for this plate!" she stared down at the seafood in disgust, "and it's not even cooked well!"
Freya and Zidane shared once last smile, before he turned his attention towards the princess.
"Thank you," he said to her kindly as she plopped down next to him.
His being able to talk must have done wonders to her mood, because the loose way she held herself suggested that she wasn't so rigid with worry and stress; it was a glorious change to the way she'd been feeling since Mae was kidnapped.
The raven haired teenager plucked a piece of fruit off of his plate; he could tell just by the way she glanced at her options on the clay dishware that the piece of melon was the only edible thing there.
Zidane on the other hand was positively starving. His hand shook, and he watched the way the deep, angry scar on his right arm quivered as he tried to balance the plate between his fingers. Both women in the room stopped to stare, seeing what he would do next.
Reminding himself to be patient, he set the food down on his chest, sort of liking the coolness of the dish. Then, using both of his hands to set to work, he scraped most of the charbroil off, greedily inhaling the thick slab of fish leftover.
Dagger felt the need to make a special mental note that the boy took almost no notice of the attention he was receiving, weary and curious.
Freya watched the girl stare at the genome and suddenly stood, feeling like they deserved a few moments alone while he wasn't completely out of it. "I need another bushel of lavender –" the words tumbled out of her mouth like she was forcing them too quickly, "- for the taste!"
Both of them nodded at her, and she didn't miss the wink Zidane shot her, just as he was turning his attention back to the meal in front of him.
Silence enveloped the room, except for the occasional clink of the plate hitting the buttons along his shirt. He was still dressed in a simple white shirt: practical in case of emergency, but also light – for nothing, not even the deep set caves into the canyon, could stop the vicious heat that clustered at every corner of the village.
"I'm stickin' around awhile, Dagger. You can stop staring," his voice snapped her back from her thoughts, and she found herself staring wide-eyed at him.
"I wasn't staring," she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm concerned you're going to choke while you scarf down that food."
He shot her the cheekiest grin she'd seen since they were riding to Lindblum via airship. "You're not wrong," he answered her, his mouth full of food.
Dagger slapped him lightly on the shoulder – nearly more of a brush of her fingertips than an actual hit. "Don't be such a goof."
Instead of answering, he picked up the few last specks of potato skins and basically slurped them into his mouth. Her expression in reply was practically repulsed.
"I haven't eaten in how long?" he asked her, and immediately she looked away.
The second silence that fell around them was far more comfortable, and in the midst of their thoughts, their hands found each other's – Zidane's right and Dagger's left, as they sat in the lit cove.
"How is everyone we met on our journey adjusting to their new home?" he asked her, the speech slurred with a tiredness she chose to ignore; it turned out she felt she needed this conversation just as much as him.
"Well," she answered with a curt nod. "It's hard with the lack of space; when we recruited, we counted on having most of the forest. Madain Sari isn't what we had in mind for training an army."
"We'll get there," he encouraged, his voice quiet.
Letting on a smile, she decided to share with him something she'd learned just yesterday while she waited persistently for him to awake his long slumber. "Sally is making shirts out of scraps of fabric and hide we find."
"Shirts?" he asked, tilting his head up at her.
"Not really shirts – more like tunics or tabards. She's done quite a bit of exploring, telling everyone it's because they won't let her fight," Dagger actually laughed as she pushed her hair behind her ear with the hand not holding Zidane's, "she found clam shells on the bank on the far end of the canyon, by the water. She and a couple women she knows from Lindblum ground them up and made a sort of dye. She likes to call it camouflage, for when we're heading towards Alexandria again."
The blonde laughed, despite the spike of pain it sent through his side. "She would absolutely do something like that."
"She might have more physical fight in her than the rest of us."
"Old souls are always the best about those types of things."
Dagger hummed, comfortable with the peaceful way the conversation had lulled. "My coronation would be soon, you know," she said suddenly, not even knowing herself where the comment had tumbled out from.
"Coronation?" he asked though he already knew the answer.
She nodded, "I was always told by my tutors, caretakers and maybe my mother too, if I think about the memories very hard, that it would be the grandest event the kingdom had ever seen because I was the first female to inherit the throne by blood in Alexandria."
"Really?" he asked her, "with seventeen before you?"
She made a face. "I don't really understand how that works either."
"Keep going," he urged, interested to see what course her words would take her.
"They always said it would be planned and acted upon a couple of months after my eighteenth birthday."
His smile grew and his hand squeezed hers, even though it was weak. "You never told me when it was your birthday!"
Her head lulled to the side, watching him out of the corner of her eye with an unreadably bemused expression spread across her porcelain features. "To be honest, I didn't really know either."
"No one could tell the Princess of Alexandria her birthday?"
She threw him a sour look before she shrugged. "Of course I know the day and the year, but the days blend together so easily," her free hand dropped to the blanket she sat on, fiddling with a loose string. "I wasn't entirely sure what day it was when it eventually came."
Zidane shifted towards her, making her head snap up in a half-second of panic. His grin relaxed her, though she distrustfully kept her eyes locked onto his.
"I don't remember my real birthday," he told her with a faint chuckle in his tone.
"Don't make fun of me," she shot back defensively, pulling her hand away from his to cross her arms. Her posture went rigidly straight, and Zidane thought the sassy huff she had ever made at him was sort of adorable.
"I'm not making fun of you," he admitted with something that resembled a lopsided shrug as he lounged on the makeshift bed. "I really don't remember the exact day. I just sort of… picked a day that felt right, and made that my birthday!"
Scoffing, she rolled her eyes until they landed on his gleefully drowsy features. "You are hopeless, you know that?"
He sighed and squeezed her hand again because that was the only thing he could do.
There was quiet for a moment before she bowed her head again, her hair falling around her face and veiling her from everything around her – including him. "Zidane?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell me about your dream Alexandria."
"What?" she felt him shift again, but this time she was too embarrassed to stare up at him.
"The memories I have of the city have faded… I – I have never wanted to admit that to anyone before. I… do not remember the kingdom that I've spent my entire life fighting to get back. I don't remember what the nobles of the city looked like, or if there was grass inside her walls, or what the castle looked like before Kuja took it over. All I recall now is the city in shambles… I think I've started to let go of things like that, in favor of remembering what I can about my mother. But now I'm starting to believe maybe I should have held onto more about the kingdom, and less about someone there is no hope of getting back."
"Hey… Don't say things like that," he told her, his voice strained. He was really beginning to feel the pain crawling in spiraled tendrils up his body, the throb focusing in an almost unbearable way in his leg and arm. But he chewed his cheek as he thought of an answer, acknowledging that Dagger's doubt was far more important at the moment. "There are plenty of other people who remember Alexandria for what it looked like in its glory. There are plenty of people who could ramble on for days about what it looked like, and still even knights who could retrace each step of the castle like the last time they walked through was just yesterday. I know Steiner and Beatrix could do that. They could probably tell you what was in every room of the place, and anyone who fled the city and escaped could probably lay out what the town looked like, and all you would need was someone from a home to explain how the houses were modeled all stacked like they were."
He was quiet for a moment because that small speech was taking a majority of his energy. "And while the remaining knights who were there while your mom ruled the kingdom could tell you how she made her decisions, how she looked or even the way she walked, you are one of the very few people who will remember what kind of a person she was. You're the one who will remember if she liked tea before going to bed or if she would kick off her royal shoes or whatever you guys wear and dance around with her daughter. You're going to remember her for her heart and her soul, and that's what people need to remember about rulers or leaders or mayors or anyone like that. The decisions they make will eventually fade, but their characteristics won't if they're passed on."
When she looked up at him next, there were tears shining in her eyes, but he hoped they were happy. "Do you really mean that?"
"Why wouldn't I?" he asked her gently, letting a sigh puff out of his mouth. She could hear the shake quavering behind his words – she would need to leave him to rest soon. "I have limited amount of words before I stop wanting to talk," he gestured to his still-battered body. "I wouldn't waste them on lies."
Before she could stop herself, she dropped her head down and placed a chaste peck on his lips. The pain had vanished once again from his eyes, and his arm outstretched almost blindly to find her fingers again. She gladly held his hand.
They sat there for a moment as Zidane stared at the ceiling. She was reminded of the fight between him and Vivi in Dali, and the way he gazed off into space as he recalled the details of the black mage's trance. He looked so enamored in his thoughts, not unlike the look about his face now.
"There was a small grass lawn in front of every house in the residential district," he blurted suddenly.
Her head jerked to the side, wide eyed. She wasn't used to people actually answering her questions about the past, even if Zidane's experience was from a fake world. It had to be based on some truth, right?
"The people who lived above shops and in the Old District – that was sort of the poorer district – didn't have grass outside of their doors though. Instead, it was a cobblestone city, full of life in the day and complete peace at night. Warmth glowed from every window – a blissful world amongst the troubles forming elsewhere." He sounded like he was telling a tale from long ago, falling into something that she guessed sounded uncannily like his stage voice. "The nobles always wore those atrocious collars that remind me of the cones they put around dogs' necks when they have stitches." He laughed, and that made her smile, even though she'd never seen a dog cone in her whole life.
"Their pants flared out and then were stuffed into long socks, with shoes made up of colors completely unrelated to the rest of their clothes. They looked more like the jesters in Treno than actual high-class citizens, so it always kind of made me wonder why having money made you want to dress weird."
"Impractical," she told him simply. "I hope I never have to dress like that."
"You will when you're queen," he reminded her with a light grin. His eyes didn't leave the ceiling.
"And you'll have to too, when you're standing in the royal castle with me," Dagger whispered to him, not willing to dare a glance at his face.
He closed his eyes quietly, letting his body meld into the floor and relax. He had been trying to stay upright and rigid to give her the attentiveness that particular conversation deserved, but he was tired. The genome was still struggling against the last assault Kuja had lain out in front of him, and he couldn't possibly imagine that if he had almost died during that ambush, that he was going to make it out of the final battle.
While there was some great victory in having been rescued by his friends – no, his family – from rotting away to hell in the dungeon of Alexandria, death lingered still, never too far from his conscious thoughts. It smiled at him eerily in the dark, like the creature in the alleyways of Treno that had started this entire mess for him in the first place – already seven years ago. Zidane no longer wondered about death – it was always there, keeping an uncomfortable eye on him, like the fidgety feeling of someone staring at your back for too long. The thing he pondered most nowadays, was if anyone else saw death creeping up on him, just around the corner as well?
His body tired relentlessly as these thoughts filled his mind. Part of him wished that Dagger had continued with her fantasy talks to keep these feelings at bay, but it was better to face them while he wasn't swimming in delusion. The blonde hardly noticed that Freya slipped back into the room during their silence and began grinding her herbs.
"C'n you sing?" he slurred at the raven haired teenager, his body twitching. Freya sped up her grinding; she didn't want his body to begin lashing out like a drawn-out seizure again.
"What would you like me to sing?" she whispered, heartbroken as Freya kneeled next to him; upset, even through all of the understanding, that he was going to drift away again for a while.
"Our song," he murmured as he sipped the murky herbal concoction.
Despite the hurt that was threatening to take over, a smile forced its way smoothly onto her cheeks, cracking so wide it nearly hurt. The girl didn't think she'd ever truly get used to the casual way he now called it 'their song'.
After her humming had continued for several minutes, she felt the grip on her hand slacken, and his breathing deepen as he fell into slumber. Freya's movements slowed as well, and Dagger figured the calming drone of the tune swallowed her teammate into a much deeper contemplation of things in her own life.
Dagger was left then – consciously all alone, the only one in the room feeling awake and alive and savagely aware of everything around her – even the lull of her teammates in both body and spirit.
If there was one thing he was confused about when he was mostly trapped inside of his own head, it was the lack of people visiting him.
He remembered almost nothing about the first time he'd been conscious again since he'd been rescued, but apparently everyone had made an appearance when he first started to scream, hoping to help and wishing to hear him speak.
But since that day – who knew how long ago now – despite his mind being slowed by the awful herb concoction, he hadn't seen very many people.
Now he knew his pool to pick from wasn't very big, and he hated to sound like he was complaining about having so much time with Dagger… and yet…
Where was Blank?
Where were Marcus and Cinna and Zenero and Baku and Ruby and Blank of all people – who had lost him once, and had almost lost him again? The memory played like a faded echo in his head, barely there, and sinking into the distance, but he could still reach it – still watch it: the memory of his abduction in Treno, and the stunned faces of his team when he reappeared.
Even Vivi and Eiko had been sparse, and he was sure he hadn't even seen Quina or Amarant. Were they not letting people see him? Was Dagger just using her unfair authority over everything and everyone to weasel her way into the cave?
But something about his daze of woe made him incapable of inquiring about it when he did get visitors. Or maybe it was something about the gnawing feeling still twisting at his bones and muscles that willed him to be thankful for the time he got to spend with Dagger. Something told him that when he was healthy again, he was going to miss these lazy times simply laying in her presence.
And yet…
The thought continued to eat away at him, even as he flexed out of his stupor that Freya's concoction put him in. The rowdiest members of the resistance would surely find a way in to see him; then again, maybe that was the reason they were being held at bay. He thought of the faces of Tantalus when he'd made the offhanded comment when they neared Treno about their expressions looking like someone had died, and he couldn't believe that they hadn't been in.
Or maybe he was just too delirious to realize they were there at all.
A new sort of ache overwhelmed him, and as he painfully clenched his muscles to stop it from swallowing him whole, a small voice interrupted his despairing thoughts.
"Zidane?"
He crunched his chin against his chest as he weakly lifted himself off of the mat of woven mattress and blankets underneath him. Sapphire eyes squinted into the faded light; it had to be just about sunset.
"Vivi!" he nearly laughed, overcome with joy at the sight of his young friend. "Where have you been? How have you been holding up?"
The mage smiled, his fingers slipping from their nervous tick of gripping the edges of his worn hat as he meandered ever closer to his friend.
"I've been alright. Morale is still really low you know, with you in here and the attack on the forest." Unbeknownst to Zidane, the moogle had reported the sacked edge of the woods where they'd been roughly a week prior. "But we're alive, and that's what's important."
"Where are we exactly?" he couldn't recall any caves in their second home during the short times he spent there.
"Madain Sari," Vivi answered simply. His voice was tired, and the genome had half a thought to ask if he'd been sleeping okay, but he was gently cut off as the magic user continued his explanation. "Eiko suggested we come here since not even those guards from the prison knew this place existed when we were all abducted." His voice broke on the last words, and the blonde guessed it had something to do with his kidnapping in Alexandria.
He hastily changed the subject. "How is everyone liking it?"
Vivi's small, gloved hands latched back onto his hat. "Sand gets in everything and it's cramped when we're training, but I think this is a good thing. Everyone feels more secure with rock walls around them, and the confined spaces make it easier to keep track of everyone so we stay safe. The fish is really yummy and the moogles are a great help."
"And you? How are you, Vivi?"
"I should really ask you that, Zidane. Y-you almost died."
His lips pressed into a thin, amused line. "So I've been told."
"It hasn't been easy," Vivi answered with a sigh. His voice fell a few notes lower, skimming the surface of depression, "but we're making it."
"That's all I could ask for," he said softly.
"Everyone knows you're going to get better. I think when you walk out of that cave, everyone is going to cheer. That's what I would do if I was brave."
"You are brave, Vivi. You just have to think for yourself – trust your gut, you know?!"
The mage nodded. "I realize that now, especially after everything that's happened. It's just hard sometimes."
At first, Zidane thought that Vivi was doing a little soul-searching – much like he usually did when he sought out the genome for conversations as private as this one. He looked to the thief for encouragement, and the blonde was entirely okay with that – in fact, he really enjoyed it.
But before he could offer any words of reinforcement, the mage continued and that's when he realized with a pleasant start that this was no plea for advice at all.
"You're just such a wonder to everyone," Vivi stated quietly, though it was rather matter-of-fact. "You make me want to be better, because people notice the help you give to others, and I want people to notice that in me too."
He almost interrupted the mage to say he did inspire people, but something about the spark of admiration and maturity in his friend's yellow eyes made him bite down on his words.
"That's why I know you can do this," he decided. "I know you're going to come out of this being able to handle whatever is given to you. I know you'll be better soon – not just because you have to, but because I know that's what you want for everyone – you want to be a part of things, and that's really important in a resistance like this."
To say Zidane was stunned would be quite the understatement.
As it seemed, Vivi was giving him a confidence boost for a change! The grin that broke out on Zidane's face was unmistakable, but he let his young friend continue.
"I don't think you have to be afraid when we face Kuja again," his voice turned to a near whisper, and the blonde had to strain to hear him. Vivi seemed lost in his own world, hardly even comprehending what words were coming out of his own mouth. "Because there will be so many people supporting you, that we couldn't possibly lose. And you couldn't possibly die."
Zidane's beaming expression disappeared. It melted into a serious mien, dashed with the tiniest bit of relief and thankfulness. No one could have said those words and made the genome believe them quite like Vivi did.
He grunted then, flexing the screaming muscles in his neck and chest, sliding his elbows underneath him so he could slide to the support of his hands instead. Vivi squeaked, nearly fleeing for help when Zidane struggled into a sitting position.
When he finally made it, nearly two minutes later, Vivi still sat to the side, quietly stunned, while every muscle in the genome's body twisted with an exhausted agony. But Zidane plastered a smile on his face and twisted to the side, ignoring the sharp jab in his still-healing ribs.
Sapphire eyes searched an invisible face, swallowed by the darkness of the power of the black mage. But he continued to look, like he was really seeing something for the first time, before his eyes locked with a gold that stared back at him with the fearfulness that Zidane often felt when his mind was clear.
The lightest of chuckles tumbled from between his teeth then, and he found it hard to think of them as the same two people who met on the street in Dream Alexandria nearly two and a half years ago – the simple exchange of gil for an inn so Vivi didn't have to walk across town so late at night.
And thinking about that time – that simple time when they first met, having no idea that that meeting would evolve into a friendship like this - nearly crushed his heart with joy. He wouldn't have wanted to stumble across anyone that night in the street except Vivi – not even if it meant Elouise would have woken up with him.
He recognized that epiphany with a start, and with the thought fully realized, he suddenly fell forward with his arms outstretched. There in the dim lighting of the cave, he snatched Vivi for an impromptu hug, pulling him closer like the embrace of an old, old friendship.
"Zidane!" He said, his voice startled.
"Thank you," the genome laughed, only to realize moments later the shaking in his shoulders wasn't laughter, but sobs wracking his broken frame. Tears fell from his cheeks onto the heavy jacket of the mage as he squeezed the boy closer. "Thank you for everything, Vivi. There is no one else I could want next to me as my peer and fellow dreamer."
"W-what are you talking about?!" he half-demanded, half-questioned.
Zidane pulled back, the desire to be close to his friend – his brother: his new brother – not leaving him, but reigning in. He laughed through the tears that sparkled across his dirtied skin.
"W-why are you crying?" Vivi asked, questions mounting on his tongue even though he didn't feel right asking any of them.
"Nevermind all that," he said with haste, tears still squeezing themselves between his eyelids. "Just thank you."
"Of course," Vivi said again, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was accepting thanks for. Zidane pulled him back in for another hug, and this time, Vivi clutched him back.
Quite frankly, Eiko was exhausted.
When someone was finally able to wrangle Dagger away from Zidane, the indigo-haired girl often found herself with the princess. Everyone agreed with Cid when he had suggested that Dagger should start helping the young girl hone her white magic skills. And in exchange, Eiko would assist the girl in the history of the Summoner's Village, and the eidolons, more specifically.
And off the book, Dagger told Eiko that she would help describe to her how to summon. Though they couldn't do the acts physically, she examined every single step with the girl, down to the thoughts that run through your mind, and the feeling of their power fighting your own when they are summoned and dismissed.
Eiko had always wanted to summon, but she was afraid. It was no secret that Kuja was on the hunt for white magic users, though it wasn't something he focused a lot of time and resources on finding. It was too dangerous to practice for herself, even though it was an entirely instinctual process.
But advanced white magic came as enough of a challenge to the girl. Her grandpa had started to teach her, but he'd only gotten so far before his grief and insistence on revenge drove him away from the lessons.
Slowly, but surely, the cures turned to curas and the dispel turned to a rather impressive esuna, though Dagger instructed, it was only to be used in absolute emergency for it consumed too much of their magic power in one sitting.
Currently, Eiko was laying in the sacred Cove of Summoners, feeling like it would be the only place she might get some peace. While she found serenity there, most of the resistance was wary, claiming that the solemn, yet powerful and endorphin-heightening aura of the place amplified the closer to the bridge they dwelled. Some of it was glorious, but too much sent them spiraling into their own thoughts of woe, and it was unsettling.
Eiko hardly felt these feelings, laying sprawled out in the dirt where she was comfortable. Mog tagged along with the other moogles for a change, hoping that the girl would get more rest if she was gone for a while. Her turquoise eyes focused and unfocused on the clouds rolling above her, the sun angled just below the line of the high canyon walls so she didn't worry about becoming too hot.
Slumber blurred the edges of her vision, but she couldn't will herself to fall asleep, despite the aches of her body or the throb of her mind. But while she couldn't slip away into her dreams, she couldn't pull any thoughts into coherence either. Her mind was nearly blank, focusing just on the touch of the sandy clay beneath her, the smell of the salt fizzling up from the water below, and the sight of the pastels in the sky, blotted with lumpy clouds that reminded her of cushions she'd seen in a shop in Lindblum.
Suddenly, like a flash of lightening without the light, something shot across the view of her vision. She was alarmingly alert then, jerking up into a sitting position and looking around. Eiko's hand flapped unconsciously on the ground, hoping that her staff was within reaching distance.
Are you afraid, child?
Eiko nearly jumped out of her skin as she rolled to her side and scampered up against the wall of the cove. To her left, a painted drawing of Leviathan leapt out at her; she could see it out of the corner of her eye – a bright blue against the dullness of the wall.
You have nothing to fear, not in this place anyways.
Her gloves groaned under the pressure of her fingers curling around the staff. She heaved labored breaths, but willed them to leave her silently. She was suddenly wishing everyone else wasn't so afraid of this place; there might have been someone to come to her aid if they weren't.
Step out into the light, a voice that seemed to come from thin air sounded in her head, the echo wavering the pitch of its humble tone. I know you are there.
"Who are you?!" she demanded, trying to sound fierce. Her voice winced with fear that she was hoping this mysterious voice wouldn't pick up on.
Before I reveal myself to you, I must know who you are for certain, first.
That hardly seemed fair, but the girl didn't see any harm in shouting out her unknown name to an enemy. There was nothing they could know about her just by her given name, unlike nearly everyone else she traveled with.
"My name is Eiko Carol." That's all she would say though – nothing about the resistance, and certainly nothing about where she was from. Dagger had told her how much Kuja wanted their summoning power.
Ei-ko? Daughter of Carlisle and Wilva Carol of the Summoning Tribe of Madain Sari?
She froze.
Granddaughter to the great and wise Geoffe Carol, who became corrupt and consumed by revenge? His summoning power got him killed – will you let yours do the same?
"He's dead?" she whispered, though she had always known in her heart it was true. Her legs quaked underneath her, her hand shaking where she clutched her weapon.
So you confirm it! Then show yourself to me, Eiko Carol! For I am the great eidolon Bahamut, and I call upon your power as a High Summoner!
"H-high Sum-moner?" she stammered. "But I –" without realizing what she'd done, she was now in the middle of the Cove of Summoners, the incense she'd found still burning, coaxing a small trail of smoke upward into the wind.
The dark splotch that zoomed across her vision earlier appeared before her again. But its edges were more defined and when it rose, she realized it took on the great form of a beastly dragon.
"Bahamut?!"
He bowed slightly to her, his great wings collapsing in on themselves until they hung stark behind him, giving him more space to move.
Welcome back to Madain Sari, Eiko Carol. Your absence has been dually noted, your presence greatly missed.
"How-how is this possible?" Her mind was rushing with quick-acting questions, but all she could do was stare at the dragon across from her, his expression nearly thoughtful.
His arms rose higher, as to gesture to the space around him. Geoffe did teach you the stories of the High Summoners, did he not?
She nodded, trying to smother down the questions of reality so as not to miss a word he was going to tell her. "Of course."
Then you must understand well, you have the blood of a High Summoner coursing through your veins.
"But neither of my parents were –"
Your mother's destiny was cut short. Wilva was to be a High Summoner – as great and powerful as Serena herself. That is why we come to you now. It may be early, but your destiny must be realized before it has the chance to slip away.
"My destiny?" She felt like, with all of the questions she could pose, she was doing an awful lot of repeating.
The war against Kuja… we do not foresee it being won. He will strike down the resistance, just as he has any shape of rebellion before you.
Her heart sank into her gut and her shoulders sagged forward. "What do you mean? We'll lose?"
The dragon nodded, his tail curling around him as he gracefully sat on the dusty ground. Your destiny must see the prevalence of the summoners. Which means you must survive this war, even if it means abandoning your cause in the resistance.
"What?!" she stomped her foot, anger welling in her. "I can't do that!"
He seemed confused. But you must.
"What's the point of having an all-great summoning tribe if we abandon our reasons for doing things?" her voice was brave, if not a little outspoken.
The great Bahamut stood before her, giving her advice that many summoners always dreamed of hearing: to be the one to preserve an entire race of people. But she was shooting him down altogether.
Under Kuja's rule, the time of humans and races alike will pass, but the summoners will live on and life will blossom from Madain Sari and its people once more. This process has gone on in Gaia many times before.
The story of life blossoming from this very village suddenly made sense. Her stomach churned. Were they a cowardice race just to keep the world spinning? Her fists tightened.
You cannot win a war against someone like Kuja. His greed has taken him far over the edge, and his lust for power drives him madder still. He cannot be stopped, so our renewing race must live on, despite his attempts to snuff it out. Kuja wants all humanity to die with him; he wills himself invincible, though no one entity can ever be immortal.
"Why are you telling me this?" she whispered, hardly grasping everything he was saying. Since when did Kuja have such a large agenda on his plate? That couldn't be the reason he tried to wipe out the summoners before – otherwise he would have destroyed the Wall of the Eidolon.
The ability to extend life is why Kuja wants a summoner in his grasp so badly. That is the reason you are urged to take refuge here, where it is safe, instead of with a resistance that lingers so close to his greedy hands.
As he explained, Eiko's mind seemed to wonder off. She refused to let herself believe that Kuja's intensions were more than just a war. It was too complicated getting into a power that surpassed one lifetime… but then again – Kuja's self-conceitedness proved that no heir would ever be good enough for him. She felt like she was going to throw up.
Just as her mind felt it could relinquish control on this vision and let her slip away, a bright light illuminated the cove, flickering in an array of colors just before she had to close her eyes. Bahamut was silence across from her.
Welcome back, Eiko Carol.
Turquoise eyes blinked themselves open in anticipation. The heavy build-up of Bahamut's sorrowful words had vanished, and now a lightness filled her that made her sigh with relief. Standing in front of her was another eidolon.
Her wings were tucked behind her, fuller and thicker than Bahamut's, but they connected to a back full of luscious fur – almost like platinum hair. Her hair was long, braids falling down each side of her face, with eyes as piercing blue as the ocean. Her nose pulled into a snout, and her ears stood erect and pointed, like a wolf. Her paws laid flat though the nails that fell between her knuckles were like talons, coming to a sharp arc before settling into the dirt. She was no bigger than the dragon next to her, but she radiated far more power.
My name is Madeen if you do not already know me, child.
Something like familiarity built in her, but she kept her mouth shut.
The eidolon didn't wait for a response, but turned to Bahamut.
Why do you come and plague this child's mind with such woes? You know as well as I that Kuja can be defeated – he is no more powerful than he became seven years ago besides the addition of the Dreamers and resistance and civilians alike have held up thus far. Do not be so quick to rid this generation of humans, Bahamut.
His eyes blinked, almost irritably. She must know the risks. She has to survive our link to the human world.
Madeen nodded, as if in understanding. The beads holding together her braids jingled when they touched. Eiko was awe-struck; she couldn't say a word to interrupt them, even if she had a thought to spout off.
But the girl is right. Summoners have never stayed back because of the cowardice of losing their race. This shall be no exception; we will not let our vessels to the physical world disappoint their companions on Gaia.
She turned to Eiko then, watching how the girl swayed and seeing the slightly green tint to her features.
You have been in this dream far too long, Eiko Carol. Her voice was gentle, like a loving mother. Bahamut's features looked neither delighted nor angry at the other eidolon's interruption. We shall release you. Keep Bahamut's words in mind, High Summoner, for he is wise and knows much of this world. But do not give up hope against this war so quickly, for I do believe that Kuja can still be beaten, and Gaia may have peace once more.
"But how…" her words failed her.
She could feel herself fading, her energy being sucked away as the two eidolons stared at her, almost politely. A flicker of a smile, above all else, found itself onto her face.
"A High Summoner? Really?"
This time, the disdain on Bahamut's face completely disappeared, and she supposed if they could smile, that's what they were doing this very instant.
Yes my child… Now sleep, daughter of Madain Sari, and may the light ever-touch your power. Do not hesitate to call upon us for help; there is no fear in embracing your power.
And then suddenly Eiko was sitting up again, startled. Her staff was clutched in her hand and when her eyes swept the area, the Cove of Summoners was as she left it before she lay in the middle to stare up at the clouds.
No eidolons surrounded her, and no voices were in her head. She felt no different – just the familiar pulse of power she received when she stepped into the sacred cove. She walked to the other side of the space, eyes scanning the dirt in hopes of finding some evidence that she wasn't dreaming.
And there, in the scuffled dirt were the imprints of two sets of taloned feet, one spiking off of a scaled foot, and the other, a soft paw.
The eidolons had visited her in a dream. She looked towards the sky, thinking of the parents she didn't remember, and Geoffe – her ever brave grandfather, no matter what others had to say about him. She smiled.
She was chosen to make a change in this world. Not to shy away from the issues at hand, but to be careful in her decisions, for the humanity of Gaia would eventually depend on her preservation of their race.
So she really was a High Summoner, then.
A/N: A chapter has never taken me longer to write, I swear. I hit some massive writer's block that just kicked my ass…. But once I got rolling on this part with Eiko, I feel like everything fell into place!
I want to say it picks back up next chapter, but then again, I just have lots of ideas and no real order to go in, so bear with me! Thanks everyone, for stickin' around You all rock!
-zesty-
