disclaimer: if i owned tales of symphonia, the canon pairings would be SO much more obvious. D:
allergy warnings: maybe some spoilers, some resea if you squint really hard and tilt your head, and irrational self-hatred.

a/n: for being an implied-canon pairing, there isn't really all that much of resea on the internet. whatever. this story isn't about them being together--it's about how presea has a totally messed-up idea of what strength means and it takes regal for her to realize that. plus, don't expect that good of a story. it took me two days to write this and i don't put that much faith into things that take too long... i think the end result seems rushed, but, hey, that's for you guyses to decide! oh, and, it's SO FUN to write presea when she speaks. she's so...robotic. :D

Weakness

Presea flicked her head to the side quickly, flipping her bubblegum-pink hair behind her shoulder, her thin lips pulled downwards into a frown and her brows furrowed into something that resembled irritation or pain on her pale, taciturn face. She wasn't feeling well and she had this odd sensation in her stomach, pulling and tugging and twisting, making her feel as if she was about to throw up and a throbbing headache that would just not go away. Nevertheless, she did not shirk on her duties. Lloyd and the others needed her to help fight against Yggdrasiall and all of the monsters between him and her group. She still needed to restore Ozette, just as Lloyd and the others were trying to do with that far-away city in Sylvarant, Luin. She would not allow herself to show any moment of weakness, of hesitation. Enemies will kill you if you hesitate. People will look down on you if you are weak. She had to keep herself going.

Presea glanced to her left, staring out of the window of the inn room she and the other females of the group were set to share, staring into the darkness outside but not really focusing on it. Raine and Sheena had seen to it to go shopping and to prepare themselves for the journey ahead. Colette, as always, had decided to latch herself right next to Lloyd and cheer him on in his card game against Genis and Zelos. Regal had gone off, although no one knew where. Presea had decided to stay in her room and see if she could make the aching go away before they left the next morning. She had no need for pain. She would get enough of that emotionally, so it would only help if she didn't have to deal with it physically also.

Presea didn't jump when the door slammed open, crashing against the wall loudly. She never reacted, never showed emotion. That was a weakness.

"Sheesh, it's really coming down hard!" Sheena said loudly, throwing herself and the two plastic bags she was holding onto the bed beside Presea's. "Summer in Flanior is horrible! At least snow doesn't completely soak you!"

Presea blinked. "You… are wet," she stated, observing the dark water stains on the female ninja's clothes and the water that dripped off her dark hair. "If you remain wet, the percentage of acquiring a cold is eighty-three percent."

Sheena blinked then grinned. "Yeah, I know. You didn't have to be all specific, though." She stood up from her bed and turned around, beginning to undo the large ribbon tied around her waist, sighing slightly. Presea looked away, staring at her feet, not exactly sure why she was doing so.

Raine entered the room then, seeming a little aggravated. "Oh, the nerve of some people!" she fumed, slamming the door behind her and stomping towards her own bed across the room from Sheena's. She plopped herself down, dropping the plastic bag she was holding to her feet.

Sheena grinned, pulling off her shirt and dropping it onto her bed, right next to her ribbon. "What's the matter?"

Raine frown deepened. "Lloyd and Zelos' reaction to my news about tomorrow's breakfast!"

Presea blinked. "Which is?" she asked quietly, refraining from seeming curious.

"She's making it," Sheena said, rummaging through her bag for something, perhaps another shirt. Presea silently complimented the comfort Sheena felt with her body and how she didn't seem to mind that all she was wearing was a pair of tightly-fitting pants, her boots and her very skimpy bra.

"…I see," Presea said, her voice slipping into a whisper. Raine's cooking was not very good and was actually quite sickening at times, and the two brash boys in the group, Zelos and Lloyd, were forever making fun of, avoiding, and, as a consequence, getting hit over it.

Raine sighed. "I swear, those two just don't know when to shut their mouths. I've come to realize that my cooking is not the best, but that does not give anyone the right to criticize it!"

Sheena pulled out a shirt identical to the soaked on her bed and slipped her arms through the holes. "Yeah…"

Presea blinked again. "If I may ask, what is the time?" she asked, staring out the window again.

Sheena laid herself down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. "I dunno. Eleven? All of the stores were closed when we finally made it back and the streetlights were starting to dim. They turn off at midnight; curfew."

"Interesting. Flanior has a curfew system? Most Sylvarant cities do not, although not many people leave their houses after ten o'clock in fear of Desians or any other threats," Raine mused, speaking more to herself than to anyone else.

Sheena just nodded in response. Presea didn't move.

He was still out there and her stomach was still aching. Her chest was tight with unfamiliar emotion—the emotion that she refused to show, that she refused to acknowledge, that she did not care to understand. She wanted to throw up, curl into a ball, and have her Daddy take care of her, like it used to be, when she was really her age. She wanted to be comforted, but she could not. Emotions and wants were for the weak. A true fighter doesn't yearn for anything except fights. A truly strong person does not have distracting emotions to get in the way of their strength. She was not weak. She couldn't be weak.

After a moment of silence, save Raine's soft mutters and the tap-tap-tapping of the rain against the window, Presea stood up, the sudden and swift movement startling the other two females in the room. Showing no emotion, the pink-haired lumberjack quickly walked to the other side of the room, opened the door and closed it silently behind her. Sheena and Raine looked into each other's eyes questioningly, but did not exchange words or express worries. Presea closed her eyes then continued down the hallway after a moment of standing next to the door mutely.

She was not weak.

She did not hesitate.

She did not show emotion.

Her stomach still hurt.

Presea almost flew down the stairs, disturbing the heated card game Lloyd, Zelos and Genis were sharing. Colette called out her name, but she did not hesitate or stop. She opened the front door and ran out into the streets so quickly that not even the rain could land on her. The streetlights were slowly dimming, growing darker and darker, signaling the close of the day and warning the approaching curfew. Presea kept running, kept searching. Her stomach felt like it was being wrenched like a cloth. Her head began pounding in beat with the thumping in her chest. Everything was dimming and blurring, but Presea kept running, not bothering to rest her aching bones or stop to wonder why she couldn't keep running in a straight line.

She needed out.

No, she wanted out.

She couldn't have what she wanted.

But she yearned for it so much.

She needed to be strong.

For Alicia.

For Lloyd.

For the people of Ozette—the people she couldn't save.

She couldn't be weak.

She couldn't hesitate.

Where was he?

Presea took a sharp turn, running directly into the chest of a certain well built, blue-haired man. She staggered for a second and then mentally admonished herself for it and encouraged the pain in her stomach, head and chest to grow stronger as her punishment. How dare she show this weakness? And in front of Regal, no less!

"Presea, are you alright?" Regal asked, his refined voice taking on a worried tone.

Presea looked up, holding back her emotions, blanking her face and emptying her voice. "It is approximately eleven fifty-two. We have eight minutes to reach the inn or else we will be caught breaking the strict midnight curfew," She paused for a second, biting her tongue to prevent her from pursing her lips or biting them or any other bad habit she might've picked up from any of the other members of the group she traveled with. "You had not returned so I… decided to find you."

A small smile brightened Regal's features. Presea took a step away from him, widening the gap between them.

Oh, how her body ached.

"I'm pleased you were worried about me, but you should've considered your own well-being first," he said simply, hiding something. "If you had not found me, would you know the route back to the inn?"

"Seven minutes," Presea said quietly. The rain was certainly heavy. Water pounded onto her face and body, dripping underneath her clothes and down her skin, soaking everything on her and causing the fabric to cling to her small frame. Regal was the same, although his clothes already were tight-fitted.

Regal was still smiling, although he had managed to physically hide it. "Shall we head back?"

Presea turned around and began walking. She did not stop walking after he called her name. She was not weak. She would not hesitate.

Regal caught up to her quickly. "Presea, are you truly alright? You seem…" he paused, searching for a word. "Odd."

Presea did not speak. She continued walking.

"Is everything okay? Are you feeling fine?"

"My physical status is currently stable," she said softly, feeling a small twinge of guilt for lying to him. "There is no cause for concern."

Regal frowned. "For some reason, I don't believe you."

Presea quickened her pace; Regal had no problem matching it. "Six minutes," she said, noticing how much darker the streets were when the streetlights were almost completely off.

"You don't always have to act tough, Presea," Regal said, muttering the words absentmindedly, almost as if he was voicing his thoughts unknowingly. "Sometimes I need to know what you're feeling."

"I am not weak. I cannot be weak. Weakness will get me killed. I do not want to be killed. I do not want to be weak," Presea said, chanting out the words. "Emotions are distracting. Being distracted can bring on weakness. Weakness will kill you. Emotions will kill you. I have no need for emotions. I have no need for weakness."

Regal stopped walking. Presea hesitated a step.

How could she hesitate? That was a sign of weakness! She could not, she should not, she would not, she can't be weak! She scolded herself and bit down on her tongue violently to punish herself. Her head was throbbing, but she allowed it. Her stomach was aching, but she wanted it. Her chest was throbbing, but she encouraged it. Everything hurt. That was her punishment for weakness. She must pay for her crimes. Being weak is a crime.

Presea vaguely heard Regal call out her name before her face slammed into the cold, hard concrete underneath her.

xoxox

That was her punishment. She should've died. Weakness is a crime paid for only by death. But she didn't die. She didn't allow herself to die. And that was because she was weak. Presea cursed herself for it. Lloyd and the other would certainly look down on her for it. It would be a miracle if they didn't just leave her in the streets for dead.

Which they should have. But they didn't.

When she opened her gray-blue eyes, Presea found herself staring into the faces of all of her companions. She wondered why that was, but found herself suddenly focusing on the slow, burning throb that came from the side of her head.

"Oh, Presea!" Colette shouted out, her soprano voice worried and filled with relief. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

Sheena pressed a cool hand to Presea's forehead. "Are you okay? You took a nasty spill."

Zelos chuckled, although it seemed more relieved than humorous. "Scared the crap outta us. Me an' Lloyd were about to go find you when Regal comes running in with you in his arms, bleeding like it's nobodies' business."

Genis spoke next and the short distance he was from Presea's face startled her slightly. "Thank goodness you're okay… I was really scared." His face reddened as he spoke the last few words.

Placing a delicate hand on the painful side of Presea's head, Raine spoke. "I was frightened for your life, truly. A concussion is all it really is, but the bleeding was heavy and you were running a high fever," Her eyes softened, pupils dilating and brows furrowing. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Presea didn't speak. She stared up at Raine's worried face blankly, emotionlessly.

"Say, guys, we should probably let her rest," Lloyd spoke up from beside Colette. A bright idea from the boy who charged in foolishly to every battle he came across. Presea closed her eyes and waited for the footsteps.

After a small conversation discussing what to do with her—with no solution—and a few short healing words from Raine, Presea finally heard the sound of people standing up and leaving the room. She remained with her eyes closed, thinking and listening, waiting for her roommates to go to sleep so that she could examine her wounds by herself.

She waited for thirty minutes before opening her eyes again. She was not expecting to see Regal's face hovering over her, his eyes closed in deep thought.

Presea held her breath. Why was he still there? He should have left long ago, with the other. And it was late, perhaps past two a.m. Where were her roommates? Were they fine with a male staying in the same room as them? What was happening?

Regal opened his eyes slightly, but he didn't seem surprised at Presea's awakened state. He only said two words before closing his eyes again: "Breath, Presea."

Presea let out her breath and inhaled again. He'd been paying attention to her breathing pattern, so he'd known that she'd awakened when she hadn't released her breath earlier. That was why he calm when he'd met her eyes, but it didn't explain why he was in her room at such an early hour.

"Regal, currently, what is the time?" Presea asked, her voice soft and almost a whisper.

He took a second before responding. "Around nine, I would presume."

Presea blinked. Nine? If it was truly nine in the morning, the room would be well-lit from the sunlight and he wouldn't be there beside her—obviously, if it had been pass seven in the morning, the time which Raine had made them all wake up and leave every day for the past who-knows-how-many days, and she hadn't had waken up yet, they all would've left her behind and continued their journey without her. After all, they wouldn't have any use for a weak person, and only those truly strong could be with them, and those people would've woken up before their leaving time because strong people, people who were needed always did everything perfectly, always helped and never bothered the others, were the ones who could aid in the quest to bring the two worlds together…

Regal's eyes had opened again, but they seemed a little worried. "Presea, do you remember what happened afterwards?"

Emotionlessly, she shook her head slowly.

Regal sighed. "I didn't figure… You kept muttering as if in a daze, kept repeating that"—he sighed again, seeming to be irritated, even though Presea had absolutely no idea why on earth he would be—" 'emotions are wrong' and that you 'couldn't be weak'."

Presea nodded. She had to be strong if she wanted to continue helping Lloyd and the others on their journey. Being weak was not an option.

Regal stared into Presea's eyes, his light blue ones seeming sad and searching, trying to look through the pink-haired girl's mask, trying to see what she was hiding and why.

"You don't need to be so impassive… You don't have to sacrifice your emotions for strength…" Regal frowned. "When one detaches themselves from their task, it removes all passion, and passion is what truly makes you strong. You know that, Presea. Lloyd is very passionate about what he does and what he must do, so his strength increases everyday. Besides,"—a small smile touched his lips, although it seemed sad—"we all want to know what you're feeling."

Presea blinked. Lloyd was strong, and he was getting stronger everyday, but that didn't mean the same for her. She did better when she didn't think, when she didn't have those irrational emotions to get in the way. Her performance improved and her efficiency increased. That was what she needed. She needed to remain strong. She could not be weak, she could not fail.

"What time is it, currently?" Presea asked again.

Regal blinked, a little thrown off by her question. "As I said before, nine o'clock p.m."

Presea's eyes widened, a small amount of emotion trickling into her expressionless eyes and cracking her aloof mask. Nine o'clock p.m.? They had spent an entire day waiting for her to awaken? No, that couldn't be! That was absurd! They would never wait that long, never allow such a weak person to travel with them! How could they? How was that even possible?

Regal pressed a large, cold hand to Presea's warm forehead. "Are you feeling alright? Should I call in Raine?" he asked, his low voice anxious.

"H-how could they?" Presea sputtered, her voice shaky. "An entire day? Waiting for me? They can't! They shouldn't! I am not worth it, I am weak, so weak! A weak member is not becoming for a group who has set out to save the worlds, I am not becoming! That is…!"

Regal shushed her softly. "Calm down, Presea," he muttered, his voice comforting. "No one would ever dare leave you behind; you matter too much. I would not allow it."

Presea looked up at him, her gray-blue eyes shaking with uncontrolled emotion, the kind that Regal had never seen before from her, the kind that Presea had never allowed to be seen and always prohibited from being seen. "I am weak. Weak, oh, so, weak. I hesitated. That is wrong, I should be dead. I am so…"

She couldn't finish her sentence when that one small tear twisted its way out from her eye and onto her cheek.

Regal's eyes widened. Presea flinched.

Flipping over onto her side so that all Regal could see was her back, Presea bit down on her tongue so fiercely that she drew blood. She pressed her head against the pillow, springing new pain where she'd hit the concrete streets. Punishment was what she needed. She cannot have emotion, she cannot cry, she cannot allow herself to be so weak, so useless. But she was. And it was wrong. She should've died, she should've broken her neck or cracked her skull or something when she'd hit the floor. Why did she have to live? Why should such a weak person be allowed to live?

She felt the back of Regal's rough hand stroke her cherry hair. "If you want to cry, please do so, Presea. I want to there for you when you do…" His voice seemed embarrassed, but utterly sincere.

"Feelings are for the weak. I cannot be weak," Presea said faintly, speaking to both Regal and herself.

"It is not wise to keep emotions bottled up. I know that as well as anyone else…" Regal's voice trailed off.

Presea closed her eyes. "…I don't want to be weak," she whispered, her voice coarse. "I want to be able to protect everyone…"

Regal didn't respond, but just stroked her hair again.

After a long moment of silence, Presea asked, "Regal, did you return to the inn before curfew?"

Regal smiled at randomness of her sudden question. "Actually, no. The streetlights had turned off before I was able to arrive."

A faint smile graced her features. Presea closed her eyes.

She could not be weak.

She had to be strong.

She could not have emotions.

But she did. And Presea was tired of fighting it.