Filling In The Blanks

Disclaimer: I don't own FFIX or any of its characters.

A/N: Welp. It's been like 4 years since I've been around to write this story. After a conversation with a friend about Final Fantasy 9, I googled my story. I found it on a recommended list on TVTroupe and a Reddit thread wondering what happened to the story.

I was absolutely touched.

So with some encouragement, I've taken the last few weeks to reread the story and holy cow. Being away for so long, I was able to look at it with a different perspective and fresh eyes and just... wow. It really was a beast of a story – wasn't it? I found many mistakes, but found quite delightedly that I loved it.

So here I am. I'm committing to finish it. If any of you are still out there – thank you. To anyone who might stumble upon this story and get to this point – sorry for all of the inconsistencies over the last 17 years that you only see when you read it all at once.

17 years. Holy fucking shit.

Onward.

Chapter 138: Rise Again

The morning was quiet. Mist roiled calmly on the lake, shrouding her view from the rest of the city. Despite the brightening in the sky, the sun had yet to touch the grounds.

Swaying back and forth, Dagger hummed her lullaby. It was calming, being out there in the quiet, by herself, before everyone else was awake. She held Alexandra in her arms, who was bundled in a woolen blanket, fast asleep.

The water lapped the stone in front of her, and she was filled with a sense of solace she hadn't had in quite some time. Her eyes fell toward the sleeping face in her arms as her lullaby drifted to a close.

"You're going to do great things, little one," she said softly to the baby, hooking her finger on the blanket and pulling it gently away from the baby's face. To stare at the next generation – the first generation in a long time to not be plagued by war. It lifted her spirits, even if it was just a little.

"They say it's a different kind of love, you know. When you have your own."

She turned at the noise, not realizing someone had joined her, but not surprised either. She saw Blank in his knight armor, but his helmet was tucked under his arm.

"That's what Marcus said anyways. He isn't a very mushy guy, so I believe him. He hates kids. But his own..." he shrugged, moving forward toward the duo in front of the water.

Dagger let on a half-smile, "I couldn't imagine loving anything more than I already love her."

She stared at his face for a long moment. Blank had really meant to make amends; his progress in the last couple of weeks since the ball to celebrate Alexandra had been noticed. She could see the way that talking out loud made him fidget, but she could be patient. They didn't have to talk about everything right away. Ruby had lingered a few additional days after Marcus and Cinna left, stealing Blank away after his patrol and training shifts. But Dagger was glad for this; Ruby needed that. Blank needed that.

"Do you want to hold her?"

"Nah," he shrugged again, stopping next to her. "Not really my thing."

Dagger accepted that, and the two of them stared at the water. "Did your shift just end?"

He nodded. "I thought I'd come visit." He hesitated, sounding like he wanted to say more, but he never continued.

"How is Steiner's training?"

Blank made a face. "The armor is ridiculous. But the guy knows how to train a squadron. Some of the new recruits are..." he trailed.

"Don't filter your thoughts for my sake. I know you," she said, reaching out to poke his arm.

He let out a huff of light air, "They're dweebs."

She laughed then. Alexandra's face scrunched up before relaxing again, but she didn't wake. "How long before you're climbing the ranks of Steiner's guard?"

"Not sure there's really anywhere to climb. There's like ten of us."

She laughed again, the sound tinkling in the low rush of the water.

"Also I..." he looked down at the water and heaved a sigh. "I have a lot of work to do elsewhere before I worry about a silly thing like titles."

"You're going to have to stop beating yourself up eventually," she replied gently.

They looked at each other then, and Blank wore the same watery expression he had the night they had spoken at the ball. He looked exhausted, like the complete pivot his life was taking when he finally broke down his walls was too much to handle. He didn't know why everyone was willing to forgive him so quickly. He didn't understand how they were so willing to help him with his pain when he'd pushed them all away so fervently. But here they still were, even if he had no clue why.

"I want to talk about something happy," she told him quietly. It was her gentle way of telling him he couldn't spend every one of their short visits begging for forgiveness she had already granted, but he had yet to receive.

"Have any suggestions?"

She snorted. She thought about the last few weeks – the last few years – and nothing came to mind. There was one thing though. She gulped, not feeling particularly brave but bringing it up anyways.

"I want to talk about Zidane."

He closed his eyes and took in a breath, the mossy smell of the water in his nostrils. He shifted his helmet. He promised himself when it came to this, he wouldn't say no, but he could feel his mind shut down.

She watched all of these emotions play over his face, readying herself to be told no. Nobody wanted to talk to her about Zidane – or if they wanted to, they never worked up the courage. It was a lonely, taboo topic. But he look at her, expression tight.

"Maybe you could start."

A short breath left her; she was surprised he wasn't shooting her down. She turned towards the water and stared, her words suddenly leaving her.

"Could you tell me... about the first time you put on a show as a theatre troupe? A real one. Not just practice."

Blank's eyebrows shot into his hairline. He dared a glance at her, but she hadn't looked away from the water. He thought Dagger would ask what he thought the genome would be doing now. How he might adjust to life after the war. They all wondered that, he was certain. But trying to fit him into the future they were living was what was killing Blank and Dagger to begin with. He was scared that's what she would say and scared they would have to face that truth together, out loud, so soon. He had heard what happened with Bronson in the throne room. He had no idea if Dagger had taken his words to heart.

But reminiscing. That was different. Blank could do that – and fondly.

He could remember something that already happened, though many pieces of the story weren't alive anymore.

He smiled.

"I think it goes without saying that Ruby did the best out of any of us."

She laughed. "Yeah. It does."

"She didn't struggle with remembering her lines. She never did once, not a single time." He ran a hand through his hair, his throat tight with emotion. "And neither did Zidane."

Finally, Dagger's eyes landed softly on the side of her friend's face. He chewed the inside of his cheek as the memory played out in his mind and onto his face. She waited patiently.

"Sweet Marcus. I fear I love thee more than I should." Ruby clasped Marcus' arms, panting, before falling into his arms. She crinkled her nose, though it wasn't hidden from the rest of the crew. He stunk like sweat from their morning training session.

"Princess," Marcus started back, "Wilt though be happy, married to a lowly peasant such as I?" His arms snaked around her tighter, and despite her best efforts, she squirmed against his stink. The others snickered in their chairs in the theatre below them.

"Prithee, call me 'princess' no more!"

Benero played a lulling toon on his trumpet as quietly as he could. It was supposed to a bittersweet scene between the two lovers, but when one of the boys spared a look at Benero's face, they couldn't help but snort in laughter, each taking turns to do this, creating uproar after uproar. His cheeks were red and his eyes were bulged; he wasn't used to the breath control needed to play the instrument yet.

Ruby finally wiggled her way out of Marcus' grasp. She was meant to keep hold of his arms, but dramatically pushed back to get away from his smell without breaking character, "Marcus, wilt thou truly cherish me, the king's only daughter? Or is such a desire too dear to wish for?"

She reached for him again, dramatically. Blank stuck out his tongue in disgust and Zidane sniggered next to him.

"After our nuptials, shall I become no more than a puppet?" She sighed and stared down and to the left, trying to keep a straight face when she saw her team mocking her from the seats nearest to the stage. "A mindless puppet, never to laugh, never to cry?" Her lips twisted like she was trying not to smile. Her eyes snapped back up to him, "I wish to live my life under the sky. At times I shall laugh, at other times cry. For life is no more insincere than that lived as a masquerade."

The shaky song on the trumpet continued, but Marcus didn't answer Ruby. They stared at each other for a moment, the boys' rowdiness in the audience growing. The silence stretched longer, and Ruby couldn't help but tap her foot.

"I..." Marcus tried to recover. His instincts said improv, but Baku told them specifically not to do that today, in favor of actually learning their lines. This play was well known by anybody who didn't live under a rock. They had to nail the script. "Well... You..."

Baku raised his hands, just about to call the scene, before Zidane leapt dramatically from his spot in the chairs, sliding onto the stage on his knees, bumping into Marcus' robed body before stealing Ruby's hands into his.

"So much consideration though hast given it! But worry not! Cast away thy trappings of royalty, and I shall swaddle thee in a gown of pure love!" Ruby went right along with the impromptu character switch, falling to her knees with a cry and collapsing onto Zidane. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Never again shall I part from thee!"

The others groaned. Zidane was such a show off.

"Pray, my love," he kept going, never breaking character once. Marcus grumbled incoherently next to him, shoving the hood off of his head, "make thy canary to keep forever in the cage of thy bosom!" He ran a hand over Ruby's hair. "Let us embark on the first ship tomorrow, before dawn can tell of our elopement."

Ruby took in a breath to continue, but Baku had finally had enough.

"Alright, alright, point made you little shits. Marcus – what the fuck?"

"You barely even gave me a chance -"

"This is the third dress rehearsal in two weeks you've fucked up. Same scene. It's the most fucking disgusting display of love I've ever read in a play, why can't you remember it? Christ."

Zidane snickered.

"You - you little shit. You can't just sweep in, stealing people's parts. You've already got a character. Showing off ain't savin' your ass. Shut the fuck up."

"Maybe Marcus shouldn't be playing Marcus if he can't remember his lines," Zidane whined.

Baku hesitated for a half a second and that's all it took to get the entire team wheeling to look at him. Benero looked like he was going to pass out.

"Well. You did do a damn good job selling that, kid," he reasoned.

"What?!" Marcus cried.

"Maybe Zidane ought to play fucking Marcus in the first show until real-Marcus can get it together," Baku stroked his beard. "Yeah. I like that."

"What?!" Marcus cried again, feeling like he was losing control of the situation. Cinna, Blank and Zenero howled from the seats in front of them, so unused to seeing the second-in-command lose his composure. He hated to lose.

"Okay it's been decided. Swipe that fucking turd grin of your face, Zidane or I'll beat you within an inch of you pitiful fucking life."

All of the dress rehearsals were done. It was now or never. Blank glanced at his friend, the smile deep on his face as he stared out over the brightly light stage from behind the curtain. Voices rose from the seats, excited chattering reaching them.

"Are you nervous?"

Zidane snorted. "Me? Never." He glanced at his friend and saw the flicker of... something in his eyes. "Are you?"

"Psh," Blank started, but his attitude died on his tongue. "No," he said a little less confidently.

"Nothing is going to be as distracting in that audience than when we did our rehearsals, you know. It'll be fine."

"It'll be so quiet," Blank murmured, not at all ready to be the center of attention. He was a crabby little child, but doubt still peppered stage fright into his mind.

"Shouldn't that make it better?"

"It should..." he trailed off.

"It's still going to be Ruby out there. And me. And Marcus. And Cinna. The lights will be so bright you won't be able to see anything else." He turned and grinned.

"Easy for you to say. The lines come so naturally to you." Zidane may have been hesitant about being an actor in the theater troupe, while Blank insisted I Want to be Your Canary would change his mind. But actually doing the thing was a bit more unnerving. Blank was, per the usual, all bark and no bite.

"Luckily you play a little sourpuss. It won't even be acting for you."

Cinna howled behind them, halfway into the pair of pants his costume called for.

Blank's cheeks blazed red. "Shut up," he mumbled.

"You'll be fine, Bro," Zidane laughed.

Blank was quiet for a moment as he remembered then, going onto stage with a little more confidence. Dagger looked like she was waiting for more.

"Zidane fucked up the whole performance."

"What?!" She gasped. Alexandra's eyes fluttered open, she cooed, and then shut them again. "Sorry," Dagger whispered to her before her eyes flicked back up to Blank. "What?!" she whispered loudly.

Blank chuckled. "He remembered his lines and cues perfectly. For both characters. Marcus ended up as a weirdly present extra the whole play, and all of us ended up making up dialogue that went along with the intermixed character of Marcus and Zeke's character." (A/N: As a reminder, I know they use their real names in the play but that never felt super authentic lol, so I've changed the names, except for Marcus, obviously)

"How did the show go?"

"Critics loved the new rendition. Absolutely slandered Marcus' character in the press, confused why in the world there was an extra with hardly any lines the whole play though."

She let out a laugh. It was a full tilt-your-head-back laugh and it echoed over the water in front of them, swallowed in the misty morning.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few moments. "Thank you," she said finally. "For sharing that with me. It's been so long since I've gotten to hear good memories of him and..." she trailed, not knowing what else to say.

Blank's smile had relaxed, no longer holding so much tension when he looked at her. He wasn't sure he could say it out loud but... it had felt good to him, too.

"When does Ruby come back?"

"Ah," he chuckled. "I'm not sure. I'm hoping Steiner will give me leave to go to Lindblum. I'd like to be with her when she makes the trip."

Dagger nodded, "Queen's orders. You'll be relieved from duty."

He chuckled, "Can you do that? Or is it playing favorites?"

"I can do whatever I want," she told him. If either of them thought too hard about her words, they could come up with a million different ways that wasn't true, but they choose not to go down that road. The morning had been a good one so far.

"The theatre should be done in a couple of weeks." When he wasn't on duty, all of his time and resources had gone into renovating a little building just off of Market Square ("Heavy foot traffic" Quina had said, when he presented Blank with the suggestion. How the qu knew anything about real estate was beyond Dagger, but he was tragically and hilariously right in the end) into a theatre, as a surprise, for Ruby to manage once she transitioned to Alexandria. He knew the work she was doing in Lindblum was both fulfilling and important. And there were no less orphans in Alexandria to care for.

He'd worked with Marcus and Cinna to speak to Tantalus about opening a secondary branch in Alexandria for the littles. They could learn all of their acting skills with her before shipping off to learn the dirtier tricks of Tantalus when they were a little older. He felt like it was important not to hinder her dream just because he had needed the stability and structure of being an Alexandrian knight for his literal health and sanity. Plus, he didn't want to up and leave Steiner like that – or Dagger.

Cinna had come back into town just a few days ago, standing just inside the doors of the almost-complete space with Blank. The redhead was quiet, ringing his hands together like he was nervous of critique from his friend. Cinna let on an alarmingly gentle smile and said it would feel good to have a place that was their own again. He approved, and he made sure to tell Blank that the others, even those they had lost, would approve too.

"I'm looking forward to it. Maybe it will be up and running by the time the anniversary comes about."

Blank made a face, remembering that recommitting to his friends – his family – meant committing to the high-trafficked events, despite his distaste for the crowds. She gave him a look but waited for him to comment.

"What um... What happens at these anniversaries?" He asked quietly, having to admit out loud that he hadn't attended one.

She chose not to hold that against him, knowing very well it wouldn't be a productive conversation. Blank was already hard enough on himself as it was. "Hm. We start, usually, with a commencement ceremony. It's pretty much just a big place for people to make speeches. This last year was the first year anyone besides myself, Cid or Fratley spoke."

"Really? What did they say?"

She sighed. "It's a little cringe worthy."

"Try me," he steeled himself.

"They have... prepared a retelling of the final battle."

Blank's lip rose over his teeth. She wasn't sure if that was an angry expression or a disgusted one or maybe both.

"That feels pretty insensitive."

She sighed. "Believe me, everyone thinks so." Even watching the reenactment of Zidane's disappearance, just some guy in a bad blonde wig, made Dagger's stomach lurch and she found herself hiding in Steiner's armor.

"It's your event," he shrugged. "Why don't you cut it?"

They were quiet for a moment. The mist was a little lighter now, after their talk, and she could hear sound springing to life on either side of the river. "I..." she faltered, but tried again. "I don't want to forget."

Blank let out a hard laugh. "I don't think we'll ever forget."

"I don't want others to forget."

He looked at her then.

"It's not that people have forgotten there was a war. Kuja's reign will leave scars on the people of this land for many, many years. But... There's a difference, I think, between fighting in a battle and living under someone's rule. And that final battle... so many lives were sacrificed," she choked up, unexpectedly. "I don't want anyone to forget the individual people. I don't want anyone to forget the individual who killed Kuja. I don't want people to forget about Zidane."

She sucked in a breath and turned to look at him, panic settling in. "I know no one has. Not yet. But... the nobles. The people who hid away during the war and somehow came back, rich enough to be unscathed and rich enough to forget..." she was quiet then, "they don't even know who he is. They aren't bad people. But influential. And if they had it their way, they would pretend the war never happened at all. I don't think that's the right path for us. But I'm only one person."

Blank outstretched his free hand. He gripped her elbow and looked at her seriously. "I won't let them forget about him."

She let out a breath and a little, desperate smile came to her face.

Shuffling his boots, he stepped away from her. "I'll let you get going. I'm sure you're busy."

She wanted to argue but knew he was right.

Just before he disappeared through the archway leading back to the barracks again, she called out to him. "Blank?"

"Yeah?" he glanced over his shoulder. She saw the first light of the day on his face. His eyes seemed a little bit sharper.

"This Friday I'll be taking a walk to the memorial stone," the invitation started similar to all of the others she'd extended to him, for the past two and a half years that he'd been home. "I'd love it if you joined me."

"Is this mandatory, My Queen?"

A little smile sprouted on her face. "Of course not."

He chuckled in response, "I'll be there. I promise."


"I just don't see why so many newbies need to be on security detail."

Beatrix groaned, crossing one leg over the other. "Steiner, they're your knights. Hand selected by you. Have you misjudged their abilities?"

He made a face and pressed his lips into a thin line. "Well - no." He huffed, his eyebrows falling hard over his eyes as he turned towards the fireplace, the heat of the flames cracking the wood. "But this event is just too good of an opportunity."

"For who?!" she scoffed.

"I don't want our best or oldest knights on duty," Dagger explained after looking up from making faces at Alexandra. "This celebration is, first and foremost, a celebration for the people of the resistance. And if you put too many of them on guard duty, they won't be able to enjoy themselves. That means you too."

"Oh no," he shook his head. "I must head security."

Beatrix snorted, "You won't win that one, Dagger."

"As Captain of the Pluto Knights -"

Dagger spared a glance at Beatrix, watching the way her head lulled to rest on the cushion of the chair behind her, "Not this again," she mumbled.

"I beg your pardon," he snapped at her, but actual irritation hardly entered his tone. Dagger imagined this was how most of their conversations went at home, too.

She stopped him before he could launch into a full-on monologue. "Could we skip over the

security details for now and talk about something more exciting?

Beatrix raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh? What is it you're thinking?"

They were sitting in the queen's foyer. The fireplace sported a small fire, pushing back the first chills of autumn. Alexandra was asleep in Dagger's arms and Beatrix and Steiner lounged in the arm chairs in front of her. Large, curtainless windows, lined with stain glass artwork, looked down over the city, tiny dots of people on the cobblestone streets below.

Planning for the five-year anniversary of the war's end was something she delighted in. Mostly because it involved just them for the time being, alone in a room, where they were free to be as informal as they wanted. No real movement was required, which meant that Beatrix could partake in the activities without being exhausted, and nobody had to worry who to leave Alexandra with.

It was just a couple months away now, so decisions needed to start being made. A few others would join in on the planning once this initial stage was done, so Dagger was trying to take advantage of the private time while she still could.

"I'd like Tantalus to perform again. That troupe from Treno was nice last year but... not the same. And the play they picked," she made a face, "it was boring."

"Do you have a particular suggestion for Tantalus?"

She shook her head, "No. They're better at picking than the other troupe, so I don't really care. Dealer's choice."

"Done," Beatrix promised her. "We'll send a letter to them to start preparing. Did you want to keep that celebratory feast in the square?"

"Actually," she felt a little nervous to suggest an alternate, slightly more selfish option. "I was hoping that... Maybe we could host the resistance in the castle."

Steiner's eyes looked like they were going to drop out of his head.

Beatrix didn't seem surprised. "All of those years you lived within one hundred yards of all of these people, but now that the war is over, you're afraid they'll try something?" She challenged Steiner.

Surprisingly, he sunk back in his seat. "That's a good point, I guess. But those who weren't in the resistance might feel -"

"I want to be clear," Dagger said with a surprisingly steady voice, "that those who did not fight in the resistance are not to be invited to this feast."

Both knights' eyebrows shot up. That part was new.

"That's going to be a hard sell."

Dagger shook her head, leaning over to place Alexandra in her bassinette. "I don't care. Let the rest of the festivities feel more like a party. But I don't get to see everyone in one space often enough and I want it to be private."

"You'll likely have to balance out that decision with another event."

"Like what?" the celebration was already a handful of days long; she didn't know what else the people could possibly want.

"A ball?" Beatrix shrugged. "It's a little stuffier than I'd prefer, but it might be proper enough if you aren't having diplomats to dinner."

"Fine," she nodded. "Is there any way to make it less stuffy?"

"Give it a theme," Steiner suggested with a nod. "It'll give everyone something to focus on that aren't the most influential people in the room."

"That's a good idea," Dagger praised. "Theme to be determined." She took in a breath, hesitating as she caught the eyes of Steiner and Beatrix simultaneously. "One more request."

"Go on," Beatrix urged.

Pushing her hair out of her face, she sat up a little straighter, trying to put some more authority into her posture. "I'd like to stay with you two for a couple of days. Not in the castle. I don't want to wear a big fancy dress and have everyone bow to me. I just... want to feel normal, like I did once amongst these people."

"Dagger," the brunette tsked. "I know how much you want that. But I don't know how plausible that is with so many people in the city."

"We'll make it happen."

Both looked at Steiner. Dagger blinked.

"If someone wanted to harm the queen, they'd check the castle first anyways. We'll dress you down, put your hair up... you'll have to make official appearances – like at the ceremonies, play, commencements, and some of the events the townspeople throw. But I don't think you need to be in that role the whole time."

"Really?!" she had expected it to be much more of a fight.

"I..." he looked at Alexandra. Unable to resist the urge to be near her, he stood and lifted her from her bassinette, holding her closely. His eyes trained on his daughter as he responded. "I want to be better about giving you your freedom. I know this isn't... ideal. I know things have been... hard. I know... there's a lot we should talk about more often." He finally looked up at her and his grip tightened on the bundle in his arms, "But I want to try to make things happen that would make you happier, too. If being with your extended friends in this way can do that, I'm willing to take the heat to let it happen. Of course – as your protector, I shall be with you the whole -" he was met with a look from both women, "- most of the time."

Dagger could hardly contain her excitement. She launched herself into Beatrix's arms. The woman let out a little oof as she was tackled, but laughed. Then Dagger was up, gently wrapping her arms around the Steiner-Alexandra duo standing to the side.

"Thank you both." She thought about Cinna and Marcus and Ruby and how fun it was to sit with them while they bickered. She thought about Freya and Beatrix and Steiner and how much she had to 'act like a queen' around them these days. She thought about Eiko and Vivi, old enough now to finally cause ruckus along with the old Tantalus team. And she thought about Blank – finally getting to experience something happy in all these times of tragedies with his family again.

"The play and the ball will fall on the first day – the official anniversary – so nobody gets upset about dates. We can have two days in between where you'll stay with us and the feast will mark the end for the year."

"I can live with that," she nodded, her hair falling in front of her eyes. One hand was balled into an excited fist in front of her, the other curled over that.

It had been a long time since they'd seen such anticipation on Dagger's face. Emotions (hormones, she'd say) swelled in Beatrix, and she opened her mouth, suddenly feeling like the mood in the room could support the weight of a heavier topic, but she shut it again. Let her have days like this more often, first... she smiled gently as Alexandra's sudden gurgles caught the attention of the two across from her. There's so much time to talk.


"Who would you see, if you could see anyone right now?"

Zidane glanced to his side. A black mage was sitting there, tinier than the ones he was familiar with from Alexandria, with his knees tucked to his chin, his left hand fiddling with the finger of the glove on his right. His voice had been so soft, so small. So familiar.

"Who would I see?" he tilted his head to the side. "Do they have to be alive?"

Immediately, the mage shook his head. "No, not necessarily."

"Easy then. I think I'd talk to my mother."

"Your mother?" he looked up, his eyes glowing in the disappearing light. "You don't talk about her much."

"There's not much to say," Zidane admitted with a shrug. He shifted, wincing a bit as he shifted his tightly bound leg in front of him. His hands sunk into the warm dirt behind him when he leaned back again. "I only remember a handful of things about her. She died when I was very young."

Instead of saying he was sorry, the mage scooted closer. "What would you say to her?"

Zidane let out a laugh, "Where is this coming from, Vivi?" Vivi. He had seen this mage in many dreams lately, and to finally have a name felt grounding.

"Just... what would you say?"

"I think…" Zidane trailed, coming back to the question at hand, deciding to humor him. What would he say? He hadn't ever really thought about it. The idea behind speaking to his mother was so near impossible (he wouldn't rule out speaking to the dead; weirder things had happened), that the specifics were dismissed. "I think I would tell her that I was sorry."

"Sorry?"

"She died trying to protect me," he nodded slowly, then shrugged. "I would tell her I'm not wasting what she gave me." It was a simple thing to say to someone who had died to save his life, but it felt powerful in that moment. He wasn't hiding out; he hadn't given in to fear when crossing the sea to Lindblum. He hadn't lost the ability to love or feel with the death of his parents, or his own death lingering in front of him, and even though he didn't know his mother, he knew that if this woman had died to protect him, she would want him to be happy – to have meaning in his life.

"That's really, really nice," the other said, unsure of what else to say.

They sat in silence for a moment as Zidane tried to feel out the mood between the two of them. Finally, he reciprocated. "What about you?"

"That's easy," he said, more confidence in his voice than there was when he asked the question. "I would talk to my grandpa."

Something seemed to click in Zidane's head, but nothing about the dreamlike vision changed. Except... There were names now in place of people's descriptions, like the mage sitting next to him. Familiarity. Knowing who this mage was talking about despite never knowing he had a grandfather just a second ago. Somewhere, not in this dream, his head hummed with the hurt of trying to remember.

Dream Zidane smiled. Quan was no stranger to the Elites of the resistance; Vivi had many fond memories of him. His voice always got a little louder and he always talked a little bit faster. There was less anxiety and more warmth in his voice when he spoke of his grandfather.

"And what would you say to him?"

Then Vivi deflated. "I don't know."

"You don't?" Maybe that's why he'd asked Zidane the question to begin with.

He began wringing his hands together again. "There's so much to say, I don't think I'd be able to get it all out." He sighed and looked at the ground. "I would want to tell him that it wasn't his fault. He did his best to save me when they came to take me. But then I would want to ask him how he came to find me – how he came to be my grandpa. I mean, he's a qu, and I'm a black mage. I want to know the story of my history."

"That's a fair thing to ask someone," Zidane agreed.

"But then I'd want to ask him everything else, too. I'd want to ask what he thinks of this war, and why he stayed out of it. I was so young when I was with him, but I remember him being so smart. Why had he disappeared? And then…" he stopped abruptly.

The genome was surprised at how curious he was. "And then, what?"

Vivi would be blushing if Zidane could see his face. "I-I'd ask him things like… I-if he'd ever been in love. Or if he… maybe had a family before he found me. I'd ask why he left the marshes and who he left behind. I sort of feel that anyone who was part of his family would have been part of mine too, even if I wasn't biologically related to him. And there's so much more, of course: where he's been, what he's been doing, did he ever think about tracking talk of the black mage dreamer to see if it was me? Or the dreamers in general? Or maybe going to the Black Mage Village. Did he even know that existed? …But that's so much to ask."

Zidane shifted his weight again, this time pulling his left leg in to dangle his arm over his bent knee. His body sagged, the other leg doing nothing to support this new position. He cocked his head to the side, "Well… You never gave a time limit to this hypothetical. So I think you could ask him all of those things."

It took Vivi a moment to process all of this, but when he did, he laughed. "Yeah. I suppose you're right. If I ever got to talk to him, it would be limitless."

Zidane awoke with a start. The intensity of his breath hurt his sore ribs as he sat up from the sleeping mat. Only embers were left in the fire, with a thin trail of incense swirling over his head.

"Quan?" he called out into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He flipped onto his hands and knees, about to push up from the ground. His legs shuttered underneath him, hurting.

Everything from the dream came rushing back into his mind and he cried out with the force, his body failing him as he toppled back over. But he lay, halfway on his face for a moment, hands tucked awkwardly underneath him, pressed between his chest and the ground.

"I remember," he said faintly. His breathing picked up and he thought if he didn't get off the ground right that second, he would hyperventilate. He struggled to stand, falling and trying again a couple of times. "I remember Vivi!"

There was barely any light in the room. His eyes hadn't adjusted to the darkness, and he wasn't familiar enough with the space, but things seemed clearer, less hazy, like a part of his brain had flicked into focus after that last dream.

There was a faint movement behind him, and he whirled around, feeling the stone beneath his feet. A candle bobbed lightly across the little cave, and in the dim illumination, he saw Quan's widened, beady eyes.

"Quan," he laughed, trying to repeat himself despite his breathing not settling down. He probably looked crazy – wide eyed with bedhead. "You're Vivi's grandpa! It's you!"

For a few moments, all the sound he could hear were the last crackles of the charred wood in the fire and the sound of his own breath. When the qu didn't give him any reaction, his adrenaline started to wash away.

"You... why aren't you saying anything?" He stood there awkwardly, favoring his left leg, the other foot not even touching the ground. Coming out of dream Alexandria had him hurting and dazed, barely able to walk, hardly able to stay awake. Quan had theorized that he must have been injured prior to the spell and his body hadn't caught all the way up, despite being physically healed. A sort of psychological damage that was impeding on him physically.

The qu had helped him process everything while he sat awake, drinking the tea concoction that was supposed to revive his memories a little bit faster. Every time he fell back to sleep, he dreamed, and even when he was awake, he was better able to remember things. Faces became recognizable – he started seeing the same ones as he dreamed, but names and locations still dodged him. Until tonight.

Vivi's was the first name he remembered.

And with that name came knowledge he didn't previously remember about the mage – things he had to have learned at some point, like that Quan was the name of his grandfather, even though he didn't have those memories.

He found himself staring expectantly at the qu, who still hadn't moved. "You went looking for him," he insisted. "You wrote him a letter."

Quan jerked back, turning to the side, hiding his face.

"I was... I was there with Vivi when he read it. I know I was. He talked about you so much... But you're still... here..." he trailed off.

Zidane still had no knowledge of the outcome of the war. He hadn't even quite put together there was a war in the first place. It was just people right now, random memories and conversations slotted into place, but nothing made sense.

"Quan never find Vivi. Quan never forgive self." His eyes lifted to meet Zidane's. "Quan search for almost decade. And at end of search, Quan found you. That four years ago now."

"You didn't find him?"

There was a long, drawn-out sigh. "Vivi taken by Kuja's men. Quan suspect Vivi was rumored 'dreamer'. Powerful enough to be noticed by Kuja. Taken by Kuja to be used."

Zidane lurched. Something ached in his chest, rolling into his very veins. He grabbed for anything to help stabilize himself, but only found air. He collapsed down to one knee. "I think..." He took in a huge breath, a random bout of nausea hitting him. "You should tell me the story from the beginning." Everything Quan was saying felt familiar and foreign all at once. Quan had been very good about staying neutral when Zidane processed his dreams, but he was starting to think the old qu could fill in a lot of gaps for him – at least about the world he had lived in.

"Quan start some tea."

"And then..." Zidane nodded, giving up the fight to stand, instead situating himself on the floor. "I want you to tell me more about Vivi. And we'll get everything else figured out."


A/N: Well... here we are. It's been four years, but a whole additional chapter is written. I feel a good momentum. Let's see if we can keep it going.

Thank you to anyone who picks this back up in interest. And if there's no one out there, it feels pretty dang fun to get back into this for myself

-zesty-