breyzyyin: (Yin)
breyzyyin ([personal profile] breyzyyin) wrote in [community profile] moogle_workshop2013-05-05 09:32 am

{Fan Fic} Warmth

This was originally meant to be a Gil Request fill for [personal profile] nal_rene...but writer's block for how I wanted to tackle the piece, real life drama, and time constraints had me not able to complete the story until much, *much* later than when the request had been asked. So because of that, I'm waiving the gil fee for the request...so this is just now a gift piece for a very patient and awesome member of the comm! :D

I'm so sorry for the wait, [personal profile] nal_rene, and I hope that you like the story! ♥

Username: Yin (of [personal profile] breyzyyin)
Class: White Mage
Title: Warmth
Summary: As requested by [personal profile] nal_rene, a story centered around Vanille and Sazh (either separately or together...in the case of this story, I went in both directions! ♥). Essentially, it is four shorter pieces connected by a loose central theme into a larger story: two of them are prologue stories centered around both characters, the third is an interaction between the two during the course of the game, and the fourth is an epilogue piece from Sazh's point of view.
Characters/Pairings: Vanille, Sazh, Fang, Dajh, and Sazh's Wife are central focuses of the piece...though Hope, Snow, and Lightning are also mentioned too. The only pairing featured is Sazh x Sazh's Wife.
Notes: I hope I was able to do the characters justice, [personal profile] nal_rene! I had a really hard time coming up with the direction I wanted to go with the piece which is why it took so long to finish, and I tried experimenting with a different flow-of-thought-direction for the Sazh prequel piece than I'm normally used to writing...but hopefully the end result is something you'll like! I agree so much with you, I love both characters but there really isn't a lot of fan representation for either in fic form--so I hope this is an enjoyable read in that regard! :D
Word count: 4,619
Rating/warnings: G. Spoilers abound for FFXIII.

----Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XIII or any of the characters from that game. They are the rightful property of Square-Enix.----


Pulse of Life

The air was crisp and with each deep breath she took, she felt more and more rejuvenated. She lay down on her back spread out on the soft grass, eyes closed and a contented look across her features. Sunlight beat warmly against her closed eyelids, and the blades of grass tickled her bare arms and legs every time the wind blew. She could hear the sounds of nature all around her, enveloping her and lulling her senses into a sense of tranquility.

It was times like this one when she could just forget everything for a few moments and feel nothing but peace.

She smiled dreamily, the thought a pleasant one.

Her flail rod was on the ground beside her. Any noise or movement out of the ordinary, and she’d have it in her hand and be up in a flash. She was not idly complacent, she knew well enough the dangers that growing up in Gran Pulse meant facing on a daily basis. She knew of them, and was well-prepared for them.

The world was still beautiful to her all the same, and she enjoyed these moments of freedom whenever she could afford them to remind herself of that.

“There you are!”

Fang’s voice, clear and cheerful, filled her ears. Her rest interrupted, the young girl opened one eye slightly to see her sister standing over her with an amused look in her dark eyes.

“…I figured you would be here.”

The older girl plopped down unceremoniously on the ground next to Vanille, as the red-haired girl sat upright from her resting position. Her spear soon joined Vanille’s flail rod as the two sat side-by-side, eyes sweeping the landscape of Gran Pulse.

Vanille smiled, “…Do I come here that often?” she asked, teasingly.

“Enough for me to know it’s a habit of yours.” Fang shrugged, “Probably not enough for anyone else to notice it.”

She frowned slightly despite herself, “…Everyone else has enough on their plate to worry about.”

“The nest of vipers, you mean?” Fang plucked a blade of grass and twirled it lazily between her fingers, “Or the hunts?”

“Both. Everything.” Vanille’s frown deepened as she regarded the dark-haired girl sitting next to her, “Fang, does it make you nervous when I come out here then on my own?” she hadn’t thought of it before, but Fang being here at all had her curious and somewhat anxious. Causing Fang to worry about her was not something she wanted to do—the other girl looked out for her too much already.

“…” Fang’s expression was closed off and thoughtful as she pondered Vanille’s question. The blade of grass moved even faster in her deft hands, “…Not particularly.” She finally answered, “You can take care of yourself in the wild and you always come around here, so you’re pretty predictable if I need to find you quickly.”

A very fake, indignant noise erupted from Vanille’s throat, “…I am not!” she breathed out, face already reddening from trying to suppress giggling at Fang’s teasing.

The older girl glanced at her from the corner of her eye, the smirk on her face growing larger by the second, “I’m afraid you are, Vanille. I bet I know what you’re going to eat for breakfast tomorrow and could beat you to it five steps before you even realized what you were hungry for yourself.”

Vanille pouted, the personification of dissatisfaction at being described thusly.

Her sister laughed, clear and loudly. The blade of green in her hand twirled and twirled between rolling fingertips.

“That isn’t such a bad thing, you know.” She said.

“…You mean, because it makes you not worry so much?” Vanille was hopeful. She hated having Fang worry about her.

A frown. The laughter stopped abruptly.

“Of course not. I always worry about you.”

Vanille’s turn to frown, “But, Fang, I can take care of myself!”

“I know you can. And so can I. Pretty much everyone can. But that doesn’t keep you from worrying about me all the same, does it?”

…She had her there. Vanille said nothing for a few seconds, hugging her knees to her chest.

Once, when the two of them had been little girls, their families had been friends with one another. She barely remembered her or Fang’s parents anymore, but she remembered putting up with Fang’s boisterous attitude even then. The two had been inseparable: sisters in every way practically save blood.

And then Cocoon had struck, and somehow Fang had become her sister in a very real and significant way.

She remembered shifting through the wreckage for food, sniffling in the cold night air and pretending it was the chill that made her do so and not the thought of her mother’s hand sticking brokenly through debris, the only thing discernible on it her bracelet.

It had been Fang who had pulled a shell-shocked Vanille through the trauma. Fang clutched her hand and moved firmly through the ruins of what was once their home, Fang who foraged for food and encouraged her to eat even when she had no stomach for it, Fang who let Vanille rest under her arm and lean into her shoulder when the little girl’s “sniffles” became too much to bear.

Sisters in every sense of the word, now.

…Of course, she worried about Fang. Despite belonging to a larger community again, she felt that the two of them were all they had left. She’d be lost without her.

Fang grinned, knowing Vanille’s silence meant she’d won.

“Anyways, everyone’s always going to be worried about everyone else no matter what. That’s the only way of it so long as that’s still hanging in the sky.” Fang indicated the object that blotted the skyline, the one Vanille always tried her hardest to forget was there, “The viper nest.”

Vanille stared at it. With nothing happening and everything peaceful at the moment, the satellite above Gran Pulse seemed deceptively harmless. It was hard to imagine that it was the source of all of the horrors and nightmares that plagued everyone.

…Harder to believe that people lived there too. She shivered, wondering about the people who called Cocoon home.

Did they view them as vipers too? Or were they simply sport for them, like the elders said?

“…What do you suppose it’s like up there?”

She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud. The question was downright blasphemous. She glanced nervously at Fang, but the woman didn’t seem to mind. She was staring up at Cocoon, gaze hard and unreadable, but her voice when she spoke was as soft as ever when talking to her sister.

“Best not to dwell on it, Vanille.” She said, “They’re enemies regardless. Thinking any different only makes it harder.”

It somehow made her sad, but she knew Fang was speaking the truth. Wondering about them didn’t change anything. Didn’t change what Cocoon could do, the danger that it poised on a regular basis.

But still, were they all evil? She stared at the deceptive orb with its odd beauty and shivered again, thinking of the noise, the smoke, the terror, and the sadness.

…Fang’s shoulder, wet with her tears.

“This is nice.” Fang’s voice, suddenly cheerful, “Next time you come out here, let me know, all right? I could use a little break myself from time to time.”

She was trying to break the heavy atmosphere, get Vanille out of her current funk. Vanille smiled, grateful for the reprieve from troubling thoughts. Today had been a good day. She would love for it to end that way too.

“Of course!” she said emphatically.

Falling back onto the grass again the two sisters lay side-by-side, unconsciously gripping hands as they had done when cloud-gazing when they were younger. Their eyes focused on any area of sky other than the orb hanging directly overhead.

If she looked away from it long enough, Vanille could almost forget that it existed at all temporarily. It made moments like this all the more pleasant.

*****


Home

The air carried a bleak, oppressive silence in it as he moved listlessly from empty room to empty room.

It was dark out. He’d put Dajh to bed well over two hours ago, but he didn’t bother turning on the lights, didn’t want to illuminate upon a deceptively cheerful-looking décor: his wife’s designs.

He’d never been much for decorating himself: give him furniture and utensils that functioned and he’d be fine (she had smiled at his sentiment and laughed, patted his arm in that comforting motion he’d grown to love since they’d started dating and called him “practical”), so he’d let her do whatever she’d wanted in that department—save for Dajh’s room, and the many fond memories he had still of their talks on what to put in there to make it ready for the baby: of laughter and paint splatter on cheeks after over-excited motions with their paintbrushes.

Dajh’s room... He had the hardest time faking smiles in there now, warmth colliding with emptiness and futility all at once in his gut in a way that made him feel horribly guilty every time he tucked his son into bed.

The funeral had been a week ago, and he was still wandering in a daze.
What was he supposed to do?

It had always been the two of them once they had gotten serious (he was still honestly amazed he’d found someone so incredible who actually put up with him, had never gotten over how she’d said “yes” so happily when he had finally worked up the courage to ask). It was meant to be the two of them, forever and always.

…And then it had become the three of them: him, her, and Dajh. Everything had been so complete. He didn’t think a day went by without some warmth: a hug, a kiss, a tired-but-pleased smile.

(He’d told her how nervous he had felt about being a father. That he was terrified he’d be a bad one and ruin things. She’d laughed and said the fear was a good sign, that it showed he cared—and that she was scared too, but nothing mattered beyond Dajh staying safe…which is why the nursery should have a warm, inviting color on its walls, didn’t he think? He’d laughed so much then, hugging her. She always knew the right things to say even as he messed up his words constantly.)

And suddenly, it was back down to just two of them again.

The absence was stifling, suffocating in ways he hadn’t thought possible.
He still hadn’t come to terms with it fully (when he went to sleep, he’d dream of her…of them, and so when he woke to himself alone, it was so jarring that he wasn’t sure how to process it). It was very likely he probably never would, he was certain he’d spend the rest of his life in this strange haze: on the verge of feeling, of processing, but never quite there yet.

…And Dajh: what about him?

The poor boy, their son…he was only three.

He was a bright kid, had known something was wrong, but did he really know everything? Did he understand it, maybe even with more clarity than he did?

”Mommy’s not coming back, is she, Daddy?”

(The only time he’d nearly collapsed into tears. He’d engulfed Dajh’s small frame in a crushing embrace, breath caught in his throat and unable to answer, but never wanting to let go.)

She’d wanted to be there for him, to watch him grow. The two new parents had doted on their pride and joy even before he’d officially been welcomed into Cocoon: their joint attack on the nursery a steady, physical proof of it. They’d go on all sorts of trips together, they’d yell when Dajh was older and made mistakes, but only because they were worried.

(She talked about it constantly, a smile on her face even when she’d bring up hypothetical bad situations. Sazh could only raise his eyebrows in amusement at some of them. What kind of trouble did she think Dajh might get into exactly and shouldn’t they be more worried about potential Guardian Corps visits? He would joke about it, causing her to laugh and punch him playfully in the arm.)

”She loved you. She will always love you.”

…Why he couldn’t say that at that time, he wasn’t sure.

”Just like how I’ll always love you.”

He wanted to say those words so badly. Maybe he’d be able to at some point.
What was going to happen now? He had never imagined a life without the three of them together and now could he be a good parent on his own, now that Dajh so desperately needed him to be one?

The thought of failure, the thought of losing him too through something he did: he never thought someone could die from fear before now.

(If he did, he’d see her again and, boy, would she be pissed. How odd that the thought made him smile awkwardly, the first real smile he’d made in what seemed like forever.)

“…Daddy?”

Dajh was looking at him from the doorway to his room (he could see the cheery yellow paint they’d finally decided on after hours of intense deliberation, even in the dark)…rubbing sleeping at his eyes.

“…Did I wake you?” another thing to feel guilty about. He walked over, clasped a hand awkwardly on a tiny shoulder (too tiny to have to deal with this, would always be too tiny in his mind), “Sorry, Dajh, your dad’s been sleep-walking a little.”

Yes, he’d been sleep-walking for a really long while.

The boy shifted on his feet nervously, “…I can’t sleep.” He whispered, as if revealing a dreadful secret.

Sazh frowned, concern replacing his doubts for the moment, “Why is that?”

The little boy, their son (he could see both him and her in him, even more clearly now), looked back at his room nervously, “It’s lonely.”

“Oh?” he quirked his head slightly to get a better view of the room in question, to try to see if he could understand the youth’s vague meaning that way.

“…You and Mommy always read to me before I went to bed.” He elaborated, “…And Mommy would stay with me when I was scared and you were at work.”

”Mommy’s not coming back, is she, Daddy?”

(Fearful eyes, sad eyes…eyes that knew too much, too young.)

“So, it’s lonely now.”

Dajh nodded his head in response to his father’s statement.

Sazh said nothing, could feel the tears that always threatened to spill watering his eyes.

Silently, he knelt down and hugged his son. Not in a crushing embrace, but a soft one—he wanted to put all of the comfort he could into it.

“…She loves you, you know.”

He was surprised that he managed to get the words out.

A small nod, Dajh perhaps didn’t understand everything that had been going on recently, but he was bright.

“And I love you too.”

“I know, Daddy.”

And Dajh was hugging him back and smiling as bravely as he could muster (he was trying to hold back tears, but couldn’t. Neither could Sazh at this point, so who cared?).

“…She loves you too.”

Dajh’s smile was hers, and it both broke Sazh’s heart and filled it with more love and tenderness than he thought was possible all at once.

…Minutes later, Sazh had gotten his son back to bed and was laying next to him on top of the blanket—Dajh’s hand still gripping his tightly in his sleep, as if afraid he’d disappear the second he let go. He gripped just as tightly, not wanting to admit the same fear to himself.

His eyes glanced over the room: warm, cheerful paint. Rows of story books and toys—a poor knitted baby blanket they’d tried making together in the last months before Dajh’s birth.

This place was a testament to their life together…a symbol of their love for Dajh, of the family they’d wanted to build. She’d wanted it to be filled with warmth, for all of them.

Losing her had almost made him forget that, but as he watched their son dozing peacefully in this room they’d built—he remembered and smiled.

It was warm here, filled with memories and promises.

Truthfully, he was terrified that he’d be a horrible father, especially now that he was alone, but he was going to try.

The warmth they’d wanted to share with Dajh. …He never wanted his son to feel a lack of it ever again.

*****


Camping Talk

The campsite was loud and boisterous, though that was to be expected when you had Snow boasting loudly about landing the finishing blow on their last monster encounter. He was animated, a cheerful grin plastered on his face as he roped an arm around Hope’s neck—the young boy grinning sheepishly in response to getting caught up in Snow’s reenactment.

Lightning scowled in response, but remained silent. Fang looked on in bemusement while Sazh shook his head tiredly, a smile on his face.

Snow could be over-the-top sometimes, but they’d been traveling together long enough for him to know that his heart was in the right place, and Sazh knew this was just his way of helping to lighten the mood. The others knew as well, which is why they never really voiced any complaints even if some of them chose to ignore him more often than not.

Vanille, who had been uncharacteristically quiet as Snow began his routine (normally, she’d be laughing loudly and clapping along to his antics, probably trying to join in at some point too), stood up suddenly and moved out of the campsite—disappearing over a ridge.

The motion was not lost on either Fang or Sazh, who both caught each other glancing after the red-haired girl as she made her hasty exit. Lightning had as well, but she figured it best to leave it to one of them, especially since she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to leave Hope now that he had become a forced “actor” in Snow’s dramatic performance.

Fang moved to see what was wrong, but Sazh stopped her with a quick hand motion: they hadn’t really had a chance to talk recently, and he had bonded with the girl enough that he was concerned (hard not to bond with someone that you’d traveled with and had tried looking out for so long)…and besides, he’d also observed enough to know that there was something going on with Vanille that she sometimes was uncomfortable sharing with Fang: either despite or possibly because of their closeness, he couldn’t tell which. …And Fang could be pushy if she was concerned about something enough, which in turn might pull the other Oerba girl further away if she really didn’t want to discuss things.

Perhaps sensing that as well, Fang pulled back this once at his quiet request…giving the forty-year-old a curt nod of gratitude for him checking up on her sister.

Sazh left the campsite at a leisurely pace, unable to see much in the growing darkness and glad he’d spent some time familiarizing himself with the area when they’d decided to settle down for the night. The rambunctious, loud noises fell away rather quickly once he passed the ridge (good thing, too. He wasn’t sure he’d like to have the background acoustics attract monsters to their sleeping area later).

Vanille was sitting on the ground not too far away, her weapon at her side and her back to him. She was gazing up at the darkening sky thoughtfully, making sure to keep Cocoon far above them out of her line of vision.

“Hey.” Sazh sat down next to her and waited patiently, leaving the conversation in her court.

“…I used to sneak off to sit at places just like this.” She finally said, not staring at him.

“Oh?”

Well, if it was one thing he’d noticed about Vanille, it was that the girl did seem to like to wander sometimes.

“It made Fang worry.” She smiled wistfully at the memory, “But she tried to play it off like she always knew where I was going.”

“I’ll bet.” He could imagine the older of the two siblings acting that way, and couldn’t help but smile himself.

She poked at the dirt underneath her feet experimentally, the fond memory broken, “Things seem different here now.” She frowned, “It really isn’t the same.”

He waited for her to elaborate.

She sighed then, stretching out, “It’s like…it’s like it feels the same in a lot of ways, but it isn’t all at once.” She glanced at him nervously, “Does that…make sense to you?”

(A family of three suddenly back down to two. A house with familiar decorations, but an unfamiliar feeling. Trying hard to keep the same sense of warmth, not forgotten and always present…just have to try harder and harder to keep. Dajh’s smile, so much like hers.)

“Yeah…yeah, it does.” He answered honestly.

Vanille didn’t ask him to elaborate (maybe she could guess what he meant anyways, she was a lot more perceptive than she let on)—and he was grateful for that. A comfortable silence drifted between the two.

“You know, this place isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

Vanille’s ears perked up at this, and she looked at him curiously, “…It isn’t?”

“Not like how I envisioned ‘Hell’ at all.” He stated, quickly adding when he saw her expression darken somewhat at his use of the Cocoon term for Gran Pulse, “When the monsters aren’t trying to kill us, it almost reminds me of an ideal camping spot.”

The look she gave him was a dubious one.

“Well, maybe not an ideal spot…” he mumbled, trying to keep his train of thought going “But, it’s nice. …At times.”

“Sazh, do you like camping?”

Vanille seemed surprised, but almost happy at the revelation. She was from a people who had to live off the land to survive, who had extensive wilderness training. She was happy in her element in that regard, and maybe hearing about someone from Cocoon who at least tolerated those things (albeit in a much more relaxed, leisurely pace than what she was used to, he was sure) perhaps made her feel a little less lonely somehow.

He’d never thought about it from that angle before, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought, “My wife and I, we camped a bit when on vacation. I’d wanted to start getting Dajh into the practice too, before…”

Well, before all of this had happened.

The silence loomed, an uncomfortable mixture of regret and guilt lingering in the air from both conversing parties.

A pained look crossed Vanille’s features, and she turned away…and Sazh tried to think of something, anything to say to lighten the mood again.

“You know what? When all of this is over with?” he finally said, catching her attention again, “Why don’t we go camping together?”

She stared at him questioningly.

“I figured, once this is over with, I’m going to take Dajh on a camping trip—after all of this, we’re due to have some good luck for a change.” He smiled as he spoke the words, the dream (no matter how unrealistic it seemed in the face of things currently) that he clung to still just to keep himself going, “And, well, the more the merrier, right?”

“…Fang too?” Vanille asked hopefully, and Sazh smirked.

“Well, yeah, I figured she wouldn’t let you out of her sight after all is said and done.”

It was a slim chance, most likely a potential future outcome they both knew was a pipe dream, but both seemed to grasp at it as a lifeline all the same. Maybe it just gave them hope and comfort in its far-fetched possibility—but it was a hope and a comfort that they both desperately needed right now for different reasons.

(Even something you know to be a lie can motivate you sometimes.)

“And that would be okay? With you…and Dajh?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, of course it would be. I wouldn’t have brought it up if it wouldn’t be okay. It’s always better to have more company, and the two of you seem like you could use a break even more than the rest of us.”

Tears were in the girl’s eyes, but she was smiling as if the gesture meant more than she’d ever be willing to admit.

“Besides, Dajh always wanted a sibling.” Her head jerked up at this and he couldn’t help but grin teasingly, “And with the way you carry on and act sometimes, I figure he’d finally get to be a big brother…”

She playfully punched his arm and laughed (a genuine, heartfelt laugh this time, unlike her normal one that felt so forced now that he’d been around her more), “You better watch it, old man. I’m not sure you’d really want me to be a sister figure to Dajh. We’d run circles around you and get into mischief all the time.”

“No doubt about it.” He laughed too, “Might be a welcome change of pace from everything going on currently though, all the same.”

She said nothing at this, nodding her head in silent agreement. Still, a touched look was on her features, a slight smile quirking her lips upward and lighting her green eyes slightly all the same.

She stood up, grabbing her flail rod and proffering her other hand to help him do the same. Smiling slightly after their recent heart-to-heart, they both headed back to rejoin the others at the campsite.

“…Thanks, Sazh.” Vanille whispered, so faint that he wouldn’t have been able to have heard her if they hadn’t been standing practically shoulder-to-shoulder. Snow’s laughter floated towards them in the distance, growing louder with every step they took.

He nodded his head, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze in response.
“Anytime, Vanille.”

*****


Warmth

The two figures in the crystal held hands, and Sazh smiled sadly at the sight of the two sisters entrapped as they were.

They’d all lost so much, but had saved so much too, had so much restored to them. …The saving all because of them.

“Daddy?”

Dajh was tugging on his hand, looking as if he was going to be swallowed up by all of the extra gear Sazh had decided they needed to be equipped with.

He was certain Fang’s eyebrows would rise in silent amusement at the sight and that Vanille would laugh at his worrying tendencies. He couldn’t help but smile slightly at the thought.

“You’re thinking about the nice ladies again?”

“Of course.” He grinned, “You know it’s because of them that we get to go camping like this now, right?”

A nod, Dajh was smiling as well at the thought. A grateful look in his eyes even though he only knew as much of the story currently as Sazh had felt comfortable telling him at the moment.

“So we better have a fun time—because Vanille in particular will have a lot of harsh things to say to me if we don’t. Okay?”

“Okay!”

They both shared a conspiratorial grin and a wink, as if father and son were sharing an important secret to one another.

The two looked at the figures one more time, and Sazh could almost swear he heard Vanille laughing again at his last comment (”C’mon, I wouldn’t be that mean, Sazh! But best enjoy yourselves and you won’t have to find out!”)—then they were smiling at one another, holding hands, and walking away. The sunlight reflecting off the crystal feeling warm against their backs.


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