A/N: I really really liked how this turned out and felt like it deserved not to be thrown into the pile of oneshots I have. Read it love it review it?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Final Fantasy.

The Thunder Plains.

This was the place where Rikku ran when she didn't want to be found, the place where she went when the sun hurt her eyes, the place where she could always trust it to not leave her in silence. This place that was built on crash boom bang rainstorms and solitude. The place where rainy sky would never leave her empty handed. The place where she could dust fiends just to feel the gil they left behind slip through her fingers. The place where she could pick up huge hunks of mud and throw them at demons only she could see.

This was the place where Rikku fell asleep on an unfamiliar bed and forgot to wake up.

Time didn't matter in the Thunder Plains; the only thing that mattered was how hard you could crash and how bright you could light the sky. The only thing you cared about was the torrential rain outside, inside of you, and the only thing that mattered was how fast you danced.

She made rules: stay wet, stay lonely, don't dream. That was how thieves protected themselves. That was how crash boom bang made her forget. She didn't fix her problems, they just were. She sat in the rain and was wet just because. The thunder crackled and roared because it could. She was one with everything, the mud and Yevon's tears and white hot hot hot forks in the sky and she could just be. She never faced the facts and she never remembered when she said she'd be home.

And she didn't dream. Not then, not after, not ever. Dreams were the secret killers in the night that stalked through your bushes. Dreams were the hideous dead bodies hidden in your closets. Dreams were and would forever be the little razors that were swallowed and tore up from inside out. Tidus was a dream and he disappeared. Kilika was full of people with dreams and Sin crushed it. Zanarkand was the biggest dream of all and not even diamond dust or hellfire could save it. She made sure that she was labeled a dreamer but never was. She would meld with the rain and the mud and fiend blood but she would never ever push herself into that.

But she was as much liar as she was thief, and she was a damn good thief.

And she slipped. All people slip. But Rikku wasn't all people. She was the girl that laughed stole flew on ships saved the world killed monsters counted gil fought with foot long blades and ran and ran and ran but she wasn't all people.

Rikku was everything in the world. She was desert and mud and ocean and sky and a whole lotta thunder, at some point in her life. She was fire and ice and earth and wind and a whole lotta thunder. She was the killer in the night and the dead body in the closet and the little razor that cut people up.

She wasn't the dreamer, she was the dream.

All dreams end.