A/N: Just my idea of what could have happened to bring about the final cutscene if you ignore ffx-2. Might not make sense.
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
No Time Before Time
The edge of the airship drew him over and he welcomed it. He thought of Yuna as he did, glad she would not have to see him go. He remembered how serenely sad she had looked, standing on the deck of the airship, and her fragile-as-glass declaration –
"I love you."
– it stuck in his mind, right at the fore front. He had already known it somehow, but still, with the words burning a hole in him – what a way to die! And yet, that thought invited another.
Would he die or would he rather… fade away?
Was this his more-than-death, after all?
Too late. He had already jumped. He had jumped a long time ago. Nothing left for him to do now, but fall, endlessly. The clouds were as intangible as his own body had become. He opened his eyes, the wind no longer buffeting him, but passing on through.
Was he falling? Was he flying?
Impossibly, Braska was there before him, and he fell/flew faster, past Braska, past Auron, faster-faster, stretching for Jecht his father's open, accepting hand. Slap, the meeting of two palms. There was a clicking-in-place as something within him sighed, finally, content.
But it was not enough to stop his descent.
Help me! Dad! Auron!
Jecht's palm, with the grip that had made a thousand in-game steals, slipped away from him. He fell down, steadily, insistently down through the clouds.
His heart beat wildly in his chest.
His heart… beat wildly…
He thought of Yuna taking that dive from the chapel in Bevelle, the flapping of the wedding gown around her, her assurance that she would not fail. Then, as now, his heart had beaten wildly.
He fell.
Tidus had been up all night. He knew he needed the sleep for the big game, but he was knotted up with anxious anticipation, largely from imagining all the things that could go wrong. He had been lying in bed for a long time, feeling the gentle movements of their houseboat on the water, fearing the worst but also hoping far beyond the range of possibility.
With a sigh, he rolled over onto one side, then tried the other, kicked the covers off, and finally flopped onto his back and just lied there in his boxers in the dark. His eyes found the window. The sky had turned a lighter shade of pitch. That meant it was now the pre-dawn hours, and he would have to get up soon. His stomach squirmed at the thought, but he was sick of his bed by now, and it smelled as if his mother had gotten up early to cook breakfast.
Tidus threw on a shirt and wandered down to the kitchen, where his mother was indeed making his meal. He sat down in his place at the table, and smiled sleepily at his mother, watching her move quietly about the room, flitting about the pots and pans like a ghost.
"Good morning, you," she said, voice hushed, but warm. His old man was home (for once) and probably still asleep, and if he knew his mother she wouldn't wake him for the world.
"Morning," he yawned, making an effort not to be too loud. More for her than for anything else. His old man could survive being woken up early for a change.
"How are you feeling? Excited?" she asked, setting a plate in front of him before settling down herself with a cup of coffee. He didn't hesitate to begin eating. "Today is a bid day."
"Um, yeah," he said. His first pro Blitz game. And his old man was going to be there. Not that he cared or anything, but still… Jecht was going to be there.
Tidus frowned. There was something not right about that… beyond the obvious rarity of it…
"Are you ready?" his mother asked, drawing his attention.
"Uh-huh."
"He should be. He's been practicin' hasn't he?"
His father strode into the room lazily, dressed in his usual attire – or rather, not dressed, since the man had probably never worn a shirt or shoes in his life and would likely have walked around naked if he could get away with it. Jecht kissed his wife as she got up to get his breakfast.
"Mornin'," he murmured to her.
"Morning," she replied, then grimaced playfully at him. "Bad breath."
He tried blowing air into her face in retaliation, but she dodged away, giggling, to get him a plate, and he took a seat at the table, thwarted. Tidus sighed inwardly. His parents were always like this.
"Well?" his father asked, turning to him.
"Of course I've been practicing!" said Tidus. Why did his old man always make him feel the need to justify himself? "But I didn't make the team for nothing, you know."
"Yeah, I know," his dad said. His mother handed him a plate of sausage and eggs then, and sat down. Tidus saw them share a smile. It made him think of –
Suddenly he needed… he needed some fresh air, or something. Needed it now.
"I'm going outside," he said, pushing aside his empty plate. He had wolfed his breakfast down already. "I'll be back in a few. Try not to miss me."
"Heh. Don't worry," his old man replied. "Look out for Auron while you're out there. He should be here soon."
"Auron?" Tidus echoed. His dad's old friend. His sort-of-mentor, who was there when Jecht wasn't. "Why's he coming here?"
"To see you."
"Oh."
Was everyone coming to this game? It wasn't that big a deal… Well, heh, okay, it sorta was… He decided he was glad that Auron would be there anyway, though he knew the man had never been particularly interested in Blitzball.
In a matter of minutes Tidus had dressed in his room and was stepping out the door onto the deck of the houseboat. He wandered about for a bit, in the crisp coolness of the morning, remembering playing Blitz out here as a child, there falling and spraining his wrist (his father had laughed), there making his first sphere shot, and so on. It wasn't very long before he heard the clump of boots on the dock, coming towards him. He could tell it was Auron, even though the light still wasn't very good.
"Auron," said Tidus in greeting when the older man had reached the end of the dock.
Auron nodded at him. "Hello."
"Um… I'm glad you could come," said Tidus, after a moment. "I know you're not exactly a blitzfreak…"
"Jecht talked me into it," Auron told him, something like humor in his stone-and-gravel voice.
"Really?" he asked, surprised. Not his old man. What would he care?
"Yes. But I would have watched anyway."
"Oh. Uh, thanks." Tidus scratched the back of his neck with one hand, suddenly remembering that he should probably try to be a gracious host. "Well, why don't you come in? Jecht and my mom are inside."
Auron nodded and Tidus waved him over to the door and let him into the living room. He could see his mother and father still sitting in the kitchen, leaning close together across the table. Ugh. He turned away from the scene and shut the door.
He looked at Auron and met his eyes.
Why – why was that so startling? It was strange to find the two rust-colored eyes staring back at him, as if he had expected… something else. It was strange to meet Auron's eyes. As if he had expected not to be able to.
"What is it?" asked Auron. Tidus jumped, embarrassed. He must have been staring or something.
"Nothing," he said, but he couldn't shake the feeling. "I just felt like you had… gone away."
Tidus thought Auron would have asked about that admittedly bizarre statement if his old man hadn't chosen that moment to barge into the room, with his mother close behind.
"Hello, Auron," she said, in tandem with Jecht's booming, "Auron! Good to see ya!"
And he didn't know why, but Tidus felt something urgently not right about it all. Standing in this room with these three people who were so close to him, he felt all alone. As if they weren't there at all.
They were not there at all.
Tidus looked around and realized he was alone in the living room.
…What…?
"You don't understand."
And suddenly he was not alone. There was a dark skinned boy standing there with him. When he thought about it, Tidus couldn't tell for sure if the boy hadn't been there the entire time. They looked at each other, and the boy's gaze was piercing somehow despite being hidden in the shadows of his hood.
It's not a boy, something told him, It's a fayth.
But… what was a fayth…?
"You don't understand." The boy/fayth spoke in a clear-as-a-bell voice, and Tidus was compelled to believe. "But don't worry. You only need to know one thing."
Bahamut, he thought, without knowing why.
"Wait," said Tidus, groping for something as sinuous as smoke within his mind. Things he knew. Things he should know. What was a fayth?
"There's not much time," said the boy. "I might not be able to help you after this. Just know where you're going, and you'll be fine."
Tidus looked around the living room like a dreamer awakened from sleep. It wasn't real. Why had he thought this was real? And if this wasn't real, then what was?
"Wait," he said slowly, approaching the dawn of realization, still just outside its grasp. "I… don't exist. I never existed!"
The how and the why evaded him.
"No," said the boy firmly. "You have always existed. Only it was an existence outside reality."
"What's the difference?" Tidus snapped, feeling there was something vital he was missing.
The boy sighed. "You don't understand."
"You keep saying that, but you're not explaining anything!" His voice was rising to the brink of shouting, and he calmed it forcibly. "Tell me… tell me what's happening!"
The pause went on a beat too long, and then the boy said calmly (and Tidus remembered that it was not a boy, not really), "We are dying. Soon all the dreams will be gone and we will rest in the Farplane at last."
He understood now that he was a dream. Yes, he understood that much, at least.
"Then, I'll die, too." And he remembered falling. "I died already –"
"You returned to the dream," the boy interjected. "But you have touched Sin and Spira. You ended the dreaming. This is not your world any longer. Spira is your world now."
This is your world now. Wasn't that what Auron had said?
"What about Auron?" Tidus asked. "And… my old man? What will happen to them?"
"They are in the Farplane now."
Maybe he had already known it, but he felt his hand clench into a fist. He felt… alone.
"What's going to happen to me?" he asked in a small voice, a stripped-down whisper of a voice.
"I don't know," the boy said. "The dream has split. There are many paths. It will be unpredictable."
"Of course it will," he muttered, bitterly.
"Don't lose hope!" cried the boy. "You'll die with us after all if you lose your way. Remember that you're going back to her. Remember that."
"I'm going back to…?"
He was dissolving, but he struggled against it, struggled to claim this memory, reaching as the room melted away and he with it, grasping, needing, needing. What was it?
It was sad eyes. And a smile… beautiful….
He pulled it to him, even as it slipped through his fingers.
Hair that smelled like flowers. Smooth, un-worked hands.
There was nothing left of him but his consciousness, and that too was dimming to black. He couldn't see, couldn't move, didn't have a body to move with. Where was he? What was he? Didn't matter. He found his voice long enough to shout what he most desperately wanted to say.
"Where is she? Where's Yuna?"
But, of course, no answer.
Kick. Smack. Thunk.
He kicked the blitz ball again. It hit the wall and bounced back in his direction. He kicked it again, harder. The ball made a loud noise as it slammed into the side of the houseboat and landed again on the deck.
It didn't matter. There was no one around to hear it.
His old man was out doing who-knew-what like he always was. Tidus didn't care. He didn't care at all. He didn't, didn't, didn't. And his mother would never be around again. And there was no one else.
She's dead, he thought savagely. And dad never even cried, and didn't want him to cry either. Nine was too old to cry, he said. Don't cry. You can't cry.
Kick. Smack. Thunk.
What did his old man know, anyway? He didn't know how to do the wash properly so all the clothes came back stiff and starchy. He didn't know how to clean right, or cook anything edible, or talk to his own son. He couldn't even buy the right brand of cereal when he went to the market, and the milk was always expired anyway.
Kick. Smack. Thunk.
His old man couldn't do anything. Not like her.
Kick. Smack. Thunk.
Ki –
But Tidus missed the ball. He kicked too high, and the momentum broke his balance and sent him sprawling and he fell backwards onto his behind.
And then… somebody was laughing.
Tidus looked up at his father from the ground, eyes burning. "I didn't miss at all before that one," he said. He got up and brushed himself off with his hands.
"I know," replied Jecht, smiling as he stood on the end of the dock, arms folded over his tattooed chest. "I was watching."
"You made me miss," Tidus accused, hating that smile. How could he smile? How could he?
Jecht shook his head and stepped easily onto the deck. "C'mon, now, it wasn't my fault. Why would I go and do a thing like that?"
The breeze shot over them suddenly. Tidus folded his arms as his skin pebbled in the cool air. He stared hard at the blitz ball, sitting inoffensively before him. Your fault, he thought. The words burned him. Your fault!
"It's your fault that mom died."
His voice was flat and quiet. Had he really said that?
Jecht was not replying. Tidus wondered if he had heard, not sure if he really wanted him to. He didn't know where he had gotten the guts to say it, only that he couldn't look at his old man now that he had. Truth was, he felt the smallest bit guilty. He glared holes into that blitz ball.
"That's what you think, huh?"
Tidus started, but didn't look at his father.
"Turn around," Jecht ordered.
He couldn't! He couldn't move and he was sure he was going to cry, his shoulders were shaking, and he just couldn't –
"Hey, turn around, I said." His father grabbed his shoulder roughly and turned him so that they were face-to-face, with his old man bent down on one knee. The hand still sat heavily on his shoulder, hot and ungentle. His eyes were wide as he met his father's gaze.
"Is that what you think?"
"…Sometimes." Tidus wanted to look away – his eyes stung with the onset of tears – but he couldn't even do that much. "Yes."
"You think that it's easy for me, don'tcha?" Jecht continued without waiting for an answer. "Well, it sure as hell isn't. But you have to understand, I can't let it ruin me. I'm lookin' out for you now, kid. You got that?"
The hand tightened on his shoulder.
"Dad," Tidus whispered around the knot in his throat, "I – I hate you."
He knew he had never said this to his father and at the same time he was so sure that he had…
"I know," he heard Jecht saying. "I know."
Auron was not his father. His father was a scruffy looking, blank-faced memory. His mother was much the same, only gentler, softer and more lovely. But for some reason Auron was the only one he had, really, and he was as good a guardian as any, Tidus thought.
He had lived with Auron for the major part of his fifteen years. That was a long time to get to know someone. So why did he still not know what was inside the man's hip flask?
They lived in a not-too-big apartment in the middle of the city. Out the tiny laundry-room window, Tidus could see the neon lights blazing as they would until morning. He sighed and turned away from the view and back to folding freshly dried towels. Next to him, a coatless Auron was sorting his blacks into the washing machine.
Very early on in their acquaintance Auron had made it clear that he was not about to do Tidus's laundry for him. And so, from a very young age, Tidus had washed his own clothes and sheets just as Auron did. Sometimes they worked together and sometimes alone. This was one of the working-together times.
Tidus eyed the flask, which had been unhooked and set down nearby. Now was as good a time to ask as any, eh?
"Hey, Auron," he said casually. "You've never told me what you keep in that thing."
Auron followed Tidus's eyes to the object.
"You're right," he agreed mildly, and continued to set the wash as if nothing had happened.
"Well…?" asked Tidus. "What's in it?"
"That's not your concern."
"Aw, c'mon," said Tidus, as he began to reload the dryer. "You always say that. Just tell me."
"Fine," Auron said, perfectly serious. "It's milk."
Tidus stared at him, then burst out laughing. "Did you just make a joke?" he asked.
Auron shook his head and ignored him. Tidus wasn't put off by it, though. Auron did that all the time. Ignored him, that was.
"Well, what about your sword, then?" Tidus continued, in a question-asking mood. "Where did you learn how to use that?"
Auron gave him a considering look from the corner of his good eye. The other one was scarred over. Tidus still didn't know much about that either, despite all his years of doing laundry with this man.
"Would you like me to teach you?" asked Auron.
Tidus was surprised. Auron had never offered to teach him anything before.
"Uh, yeah," he replied, then began to grin slowly as his enthusiasm grew. "Yeah, that'd be great!"
But when he finally had a sword in his hands, even though it was the first time, it felt like he already knew how to use it…
"Hey, new guy!" Tidus shouted from within the blitz-sphere, as he spotted a fellow post-game lingerer. The game was over, the stadium had emptied, but Tidus wasn't in the mood to party and he didn't want to go home either. So he floated in the sphere for a while. They wouldn't drain it until later anyway.
The newest player looked up at him from where he was swimming near the exit as if undecided whether to leave or not. Wakka hadn't been on the team very long, but he was a good right fieldman and Tidus liked him already. He waved Wakka up to the top of the sphere, and then began to swim there himself. Wakka caught up with him, and they raced to break the surface. It was a tie.
"Good game, huh?" said Tidus, shaking the water out of his hair and eyes. The Abes had done a decent job of winning.
"Sure was!" Wakka grinned and pumped his fist in the air before relaxing back into a float. Tidus followed his lead, and there they were, side by side, at the top of the sphere looking up. He could hardly see any stars beyond the glow of the city lights.
"So, what's keepin' ya?" asked Tidus, after a moment.
"Ah, nothin.' Just don't want to go home yet."
"Me neither…"
"My brother's gettin' married soon, ya?" Wakka went on, "And he and his girl, Lu, they're all over the place makin' plans. Just don't wanna get in the way, is all."
"Jealous?" asked Tidus slyly.
Wakka took a swipe at him. Tidus held up his hands instinctively to block, and then out of nowhere Wakka was dunking him, holding him down by the shoulders. He struggled until he broke free and kicked away from Wakka, gasping and laughing.
"Alright, alright," he amended. "You're not jealous."
"'S right," said Wakka, relaxing. "Why should I be jealous? Chappu can barely blitz."
"I guess you got all the talent, then," Tidus said, half-sarcastic, half-serious. Wakka was a good player.
"Yeah," Wakka agreed, unabashed. He chuckled. "You and me. We're goin' straight to the top. I can feel it."
"I can too," said Tidus.
He was not cut out to be a soldier. But Zanarkand was drafting and he hadn't had much of a choice. Even rising young Blitz stars were not exempt. Still…
He was not cut out to be a soldier. The machina gun felt awkward in his hands, and his sweat was making his finger slip on the trigger. His uniform was a size too big. His helmet had a habit of slipping down over his eyes. He was afraid to die.
Tidus dried his hands on the legs of his pants, one at a time so as not to drop the gun. He looked around him, at the other pale, afraid faces. Had the weakest, the most unsure, been placed on the front lines? That made sense, when he thought about it. Yes, a hard kind of sense.
Did that mean that he was weak, too?
Maybe, but it didn't matter now because there was an explosion and then they were here, the enemy was here, and he wasn't ready to die. He was afraid to die. He didn't want to die. He wasn't meant to die.
… Oh, yes, that was it! He clung to this thought as if it might take him away. Yes, that was it.
He wasn't meant to die!
Wherever he was now, he was not quite alone. That much was clear and nothing else.
"What do you want?" said the other.
"Mother," he answered instantly and without thought, "Father, Auron…"
"Your guardians?" said the other, and laughed.
"No…" he replied, confused. That hadn't been the right answer at all. He couldn't lean on anybody anymore.
"What do you want?" said the other, once more.
"I don't know," he answered in desperation. "She's somebody I can't remember."
"Who is she?" asked the other, pressingly.
"I just told you I don't remember!"
"Try."
There was nothing to do at Nora's house, but Mama sent him there anyway when she needed to be alone, which was a lot more often now that Dad was gone. So Tidus spent a lot of time sitting by the window, head resting in the palm of his hand. Nora lived just next door. In fact, if he moved a little to the left so the small wind-chime with the birds on it wasn't blocking, he could see his house from where he sat.
What was Mama doing in there now? Why did she have to be alone so much?
He didn't realize he had spoken these thoughts aloud until he received an answer.
"She just needs to grieve by herself, child," said Nora, coming into the room with a plate of fresh cookies which she set down nearby. Nora was a slim, elderly woman with her straight gray hair permanently wound in a knot at the nape of her neck. "She is in mourning."
But what about me? Tidus wondered.
What he said was, "Oh. But why does it take so long?"
Nora pursed her lips thoughtfully. "The amount of time it takes varies from person to person."
"Hmm," said Tidus, not really satisfied. Thankfully, Nora continued.
"In your mother's case, it may take an extra long time to let go because she loved so strongly. Even though it's been over a year, she can't stop grieving. She may never stop."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Do you know what lovebirds are?"
He didn't, but he guessed and pointed at the wind-chime. "Like that?"
"Yes," said Nora. "Like that. If one of those birds were to die, the other wouldn't be able to survive without it."
That wasn't very comforting.
"Will Mama survive?" he asked.
"Oh! Yes, yes, she will," Nora amended. "But she might need some help, that's all. This is very hard for her."
"Oh," said Tidus. He studied the wind-chime, the two ceramic birds in their nest, with round beads dangling down. Lovebirds.
That struck something within him. He felt suddenly as if he would die right then.
This isn't working!
It was a cool, sunless morning, with the lantern-glow of the streetlights seeming soft and far off encased in fog. Tidus sat on Auron's front step, waiting. He had run away from home last night (for good, this time!) and he had nowhere else to go but to his old teacher, whom he had always liked despite the older man's gruffness, and who had said he would always be there if needed.
Nice guy, huh? Well, Tidus knew he was nicer than he pretended to be, at least. Hadn't seen him for about a year, though…
He thought back to his time at the Zanarkand Boys' Academy, where his parents had tried to send him, and where they didn't even have a half-decent Blitz team, and where everybody had to be a somebody, and where he had failed Language along with everything else, but liked it better than usual because Auron had been teaching it. He had always thought Auron was too cool to be teaching there, but he supposed the pay was good, anyway.
Tidus chewed the edge of his thumb, scanning the street for Auron's returning figure. He had seen him leave when he was lurking around, before he could gather the courage to approach the house, and figured he would just wait here until Auron was back. Considering he had no idea where Auron had gone, the wait could be a while. But he didn't think it would be and he could always leave if it took too long. He was still gnawing at his cuticle when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps and he saw the dark figure of Auron materializing from the mist. He looked about the same, except for the hint of gray at his temples. That hadn't been there before.
Tidus stood up, and Auron slowed his approach, examining him.
"Hi there," said Tidus, for lack of anything more intelligent.
"Oh." Auron's eyes widened briefly in astonishment. "It's you."
"Yeah, it's me."
"What are you doing here?"
"Umm…" Tidus shuffled his feet. "I kinda left home for a while."
The familiar half-smile appeared on Auron's face. "I thought as much."
For the first time, Tidus noticed that Auron was carrying a brown paper grocery bag in one arm. As he began to reach into a pocket for his keys, Tidus took the bag from him and waited to be led into the house.
"You can set the bag down there," Auron said, gesturing toward a counter when they had reached the kitchen. "Thank you."
"No problem," replied Tidus, and then fell silent. He looked around the kitchen, fairly clean, and into the living room, searching for something to say.
"Sit down," said Auron, gesturing toward the stools lined up beside the counter where he had just placed the grocery bag. Auron took a chair and Tidus followed suit. "I assume you're looking for a place to stay."
He didn't waste much time, did he?
"Yeah," Tidus nodded. "That's right. Um, if it's not a big deal, I mean…"
Auron glanced backwards to one of the doors on the far wall. Tidus didn't know where it led.
"You can stay here," said Auron thoughtfully. "Rikku will not mind."
Rikku…?
"Is she your…?"
"Wife," Auron finished. "Yes."
Oh, right. He had forgotten that Auron was married. Now that Tidus looked, he could see the plain gold wedding band around Auron's finger. The man never talked much about himself.
"What won't I mind?"
A woman had appeared in the kitchen, dressed in a deeply red robe that was probably Auron's judging by the size of it. The belt was cinched around her waist, but Tidus could still see the white edge of her shirt peaking out near her throat. Her blonde hair sprayed out crazily from where it was tied up at the back of her head. Tidus realized she must have come from the door on the far wall that had briefly captured Auron's attention, for it was now standing wide open.
"Tidus wants to stay here," said Auron, watching with obvious affection as she stood on tip-toe to peak into the brown grocery bag. He looked back to Tidus as he added, "for reasons he has not yet provided."
"Yeah, I was getting to that," said Tidus, reaching back to scratch his head.
"Hmm. You were right," Rikku interjected, pressing a finger into one dimple as if in thought. "I don't mind if he stays for a while."
She proceeded to empty the grocery bag item by item onto the counter, first a carton of eggs, then a number of fruits, a bag of flour, and so on. Now that she was closer, Tidus could see that she was fairly young. Younger than Auron was, anyway, though she was certainly older than Tidus himself. Even beneath the bulk of the robe she appeared slim, sprightly, and beautiful.
Rikku looked up at Tidus with vibrantly green eyes.
"What'll you have for breakfast, then, stranger?" she asked, with a grin that he somehow felt was more for Auron than for him. "I can whip up a mean set of flapjacks, if you want."
"That sounds great," said Tidus, pleasantly surprised at her hospitality. "Thanks."
"My pleasure," she replied, then turned to her husband. "And you?"
Auron raised an eyebrow. "Coffee?"
With a ritualistic air, she wrinkled her nose at him. "Nope. Gotta make that for yourself, if you want it. You know the rules."
"But I keep hoping they'll change." Auron rolled his eyes, but he got up anyway, apparently to make himself that coffee.
"Um, Sir?" said Tidus. "I can explain why I –"
"No." Auron held up a hand. "As long as you have your reasons, that is enough. I don't need to hear them." And he slipped away, joining Rikku in the kitchen.
Huh. Tidus settled into his chair, feeling faintly awkward. The truth was, he didn't know what he would have said if Auron hadn't stopped him. What was he doing here? Where was he going?
Tidus sighed and settled for watching his hosts move about the kitchen. They sort of slid easily around each other, sometimes brushing, but never hindering. It was an easy, lazy sort of thing to watch, the way they fit together like puzzle pieces.
At that something welled up inside him. It was impossible to explain – just that suddenly, he ached. He watched Auron and his wife, and he wanted that fitting-together for his own.
"I… um," he said, not able to express the thing inside him, whatever it was, that wanted so fiercely. "I need some – some air. I'm alright, I just – well, I'll be back."
He stood abruptly. His stool screeched out from under him, and he all but ran out the door into the cool morning air, drinking it in. He flung himself down the steps and into the still-empty street, breathing deeply, not sure what to do but needing to do something.
He wanted! And it was a feeling that he recognized, even as he recognized also that exactly what he wanted was unknowable and out of his reach.
What is it? What IS it?
He looked up at the sky. He yelled,
"What is it?"
But it sounded like,
"Yuna!"
He heard someone whistling.
Tidus leaned back on the bench in the quad where he ate lunch, only half paying attention to what Wakka was saying. Wakka was his friend, maybe his best friend, but Tidus didn't really want to hear about his girl troubles. Lately, though, he didn't have much of a choice. With a sigh, Tidus focused back in on the conversation.
"I can't stop thinkin' about her!" said Wakka. "She's somethin' special."
"So?" Tidus gave his friend a pointed look. "Why don't you go ask her out?
Wakka opened his mouth once and closed it before he replied.
"I dunno. We've known each other for a long time, Lulu and me, and I think we're friends, but sometimes she can be real cold, ya?"
"Yeah," Tidus agreed. He had heard this before. "But that's one of the things you like about her."
"That's true." Wakka laughed briefly. "But I just wish I could tell what she thinkin', you know?"
"Doesn't look like that's gonna happen," Tidus pointed out absently.
"Yeah, you're right." Wakka hung his head, then looked up at Tidus more seriously. "Sorry about all this. It's just – haven't you ever got that feeling? That one where you just know for absolutes, 'this is it'?"
Tidus was going to say no, he hadn't, but when he opened his mouth what came out was, "yes." And the more he thought about it the more right that seemed. "Yes," he said again. "Yes, I felt like that – I did!"
He had felt like that ever since he had first seen her, when she was glowing and smiling and swaying on her feet and falling bonelessly into Kimahri's arms.
"Let's celebrate," she'd said, leading him deeper into the post-game party, and then past all the noise to where it was quiet and private and dark and nothing but the closeness of their bodies. Oddly, neither of them had known how to start, so she'd simply looked at him and said so bluntly, "I'm going to kiss you now…"
And it might have been funny for its tactlessness, its utter lack of finesse, but he wasn't laughing, and despite the warning he was still surprised when her lips met his and they pulled in to each other, deeper and closer, tongues and mouths and hands, yes, and he pulled back only to sigh, "Yuna…"
She pulled away to, studying him. "Who?" she asked.
When he looked at her, really looked, she was not who he had thought she was.
There in his arms in the dark was Rikku, who became Lulu, who became Dona, who became – But he only wanted Yuna, and not anyone else.
He was a child or he was a man or he was a fool or he was a coward or he was a soldier or he was a blitz star or he was anything and everything, but he was and that's what mattered.
He was, and he was going back to Her.
He heard her whistling – that long-ago promise, he remembered – and he held it like a thread and it blazed a path for him to follow back home, long and winding but he could see the end of it…
… And then he was falling again. He fell only for an instant before he plunged into the water.
He opened his eyes, not aware of having closed them, but still it was like waking from a long sleep. He stretched the stiffness from his body, safe in the water, knowing where he was and who he was and what he was.
The whistling rang in his ears, drawing him upwards, towards the light and the surface, a blazing path that he knew the end of.
Upwards he swam, upwards and upwards.
He smiled.
A/N: I would really like it if you reviewed. Please. Pretty please…?