Fic: Blink (Tales of Symphonia)
Title: Blink
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1.1k
Warnings: none
Beta: vyctori
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Summary: Being a guidance counselor wasn't in Botta's job description. Especially not to his boss at three in the morning.
He rather liked his job. There were probably a few people who would have thought him crazy had he told them that, but still, he liked his job. When he had first entered the Renegades, he'd been doing grunt work. Now he was its leader. Technically, its figurehead and second-in-command, but there were some even within the Renegades who didn't know that.
And so, despite the high risk factors, the certain interrogation followed by death if he were caught, the door mechanisms that annoyed everyone on base, the cafeteria so well hidden it might not even have existed… It was a very satisfying job and so Botta liked it.
There were just a few little aspects of it that completely threw him for a loop.
Such as why someone was knocking at his door at… half past three in the morning? If it were an emergency, there would have been an alarm. If this were something planned, Botta would have remembered it. Even half-asleep, he would have remembered it. And this was why he reminded himself that really he did like his job. Honest.
Probably just one of the men wanting to ask him something. It'd happened before. Hopefully this time it would be something important, or something that just couldn't wait.
With a tired scratch at his beard, he pressed a switch on the doorframe and the door slid sideways into the wall with a soft sound. Whatever he had been going to say to Hieg, Darvis, Miehlam or whoever else it was never made it out.
"Sir?"
Lord Yuan looked up at him, expression hidden and unreadable, but body language yelling that something was off. "Can I come in?" Botta could tell that it was stated as a question out of only politeness, though it something Yuan usually had little of; Yuan knew Botta couldn't refuse him anything.
Even when it meant losing sleep. "Certainly, sir." Feeling not quite at ease, he led the very short way into his slightly small quarters. After a short moment, he pulled out his desk chair in invitation. Once Yuan had sat, Botta seated himself on the end of his bed and waited for what his superior had to say.
Yuan then asked him the most random and uncharacteristic thing that Botta had ever heard him utter: "Am I a good person?"
Botta blinked. "Sir?"
Yuan looked at him, but without focus, staring through him. He spoke quickly, listing. "For a few thousand years, I went along with the plans of a madman. I'm currently trying to kill a man who was my closest friend for most of those years. Again. I'm going to use a kid against him." He went on like this for a short while and Botta simply sat in a stunned silence, watching him more than listening. Yuan had never looked small to him. Yuan had never looked confused to him. Never unsure, never afraid, never... old.
Yuan's eyes snapped back into focus. "I'm not, am I?"
How could anyone answer that question? "Sir, I think... I believe that there are wrong actions that are necessary," he said, making it up as he went along. "And that to not do a wrong, necessary action is, in a way, to do a wrong, unnecessary action. So as long as all the wrong actions a person performs are necessary, they cannot be a truly bad person."
Lord Yuan didn't say anything to that, looking through him once again. Botta would have given anything to know what was going on in the other man's mind. He noticed that Yuan fiddling with one of his fingers, feeling below the first knuckle with his thumb. It occurred to him that Yuan had once had a ring there. When-
"I lost it."
Botta looked up into the older man's eyes, apparently having been caught staring. He wasn't sure, but he had the odd feeling that this was had caused Yuan to visit him. This was what he needed to talk about. "When, sir?"
"I don't know."
"Where have you looked for it?" There was something important about this ring. He didn't know what, but if it had no material value as he suspected, there had to be a strong meaning behind it. Very strong.
"I haven't."
Botta blinked. "I don't understand, sir."
"Neither do I."
He had to ask. "Sir, what was the importance of that ring?"
Yuan looked at him. "I haven't told you?"
"No, sir."
There was a long pause, so long he thought that the older man wouldn't tell him.
"I was engaged once, Botta," Yuan said softly. "A long time ago."
He... Lord Yuan. Engaged. In love. Botta knew he was staring but couldn't bring himself to stop. In a tone just as soft, if not softer, he asked, "What happened to her?"
"She died."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Don't be. It was a long time ago. It's over."
It wouldn't be right for him to ask why Yuan still wore that ring if that were so. It wouldn't be. It wasn't his place. Another question, perhaps: "Who was she?"
Yuan looked at him once more and this time he was certain he would go unanswered. He was answered, though, and so quietly that he nearly missed it.
What could he say to that? What could anyone say to that?
They sat in silence for a while, Botta studying the floor, digesting what he had heard.
Yuan studying him. "I don't really know you, Botta. Three and a half hundred years with you and I don't know you."
He looked up. "No, sir."
Yuan was still looking at him oddly. "We're not what one would call friends, are we?"
For the fourth time that morning, Botta blinked. "Depends on the definition, sir." Was that why Yuan had come to him? He had needed to talk with a friend and Botta was the closest equivalent he had? Botta felt unimaginably sad at that.
"What's your definition, Botta?"
It was suddenly very hard to look the man in the eyes. "Someone who can be depended upon and trusted. Someone who a person can talk to."
There was a long, somewhat awkward silence.
"Then we are friends." Was that a statement or a question?
"I suppose so, sir."
"...I see."
He stood up, presumably to go.
Now it was Botta's turn to need to talk. "Ah, sir?"
The only sign that Yuan had heard was the slight turning of the head, Yuan looking at him through a blue curtain of hair.
"Sir, I heard the Chosen's report of how Lloyd's group is coming for the Rheiards."
"I'm going to meet them in the hanger."
"I know that, sir. I was wondering if I might accompany you."
No response.
"I want to redeem myself, sir, for my defeat at the Sylvarant Base."
No response.
Botta didn't add anything.
"...Don't be late."
"Yes, sir."
And so Yuan went back to normal.
And Botta went back to bed.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1.1k
Warnings: none
Beta: vyctori
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Summary: Being a guidance counselor wasn't in Botta's job description. Especially not to his boss at three in the morning.
He rather liked his job. There were probably a few people who would have thought him crazy had he told them that, but still, he liked his job. When he had first entered the Renegades, he'd been doing grunt work. Now he was its leader. Technically, its figurehead and second-in-command, but there were some even within the Renegades who didn't know that.
And so, despite the high risk factors, the certain interrogation followed by death if he were caught, the door mechanisms that annoyed everyone on base, the cafeteria so well hidden it might not even have existed… It was a very satisfying job and so Botta liked it.
There were just a few little aspects of it that completely threw him for a loop.
Such as why someone was knocking at his door at… half past three in the morning? If it were an emergency, there would have been an alarm. If this were something planned, Botta would have remembered it. Even half-asleep, he would have remembered it. And this was why he reminded himself that really he did like his job. Honest.
Probably just one of the men wanting to ask him something. It'd happened before. Hopefully this time it would be something important, or something that just couldn't wait.
With a tired scratch at his beard, he pressed a switch on the doorframe and the door slid sideways into the wall with a soft sound. Whatever he had been going to say to Hieg, Darvis, Miehlam or whoever else it was never made it out.
"Sir?"
Lord Yuan looked up at him, expression hidden and unreadable, but body language yelling that something was off. "Can I come in?" Botta could tell that it was stated as a question out of only politeness, though it something Yuan usually had little of; Yuan knew Botta couldn't refuse him anything.
Even when it meant losing sleep. "Certainly, sir." Feeling not quite at ease, he led the very short way into his slightly small quarters. After a short moment, he pulled out his desk chair in invitation. Once Yuan had sat, Botta seated himself on the end of his bed and waited for what his superior had to say.
Yuan then asked him the most random and uncharacteristic thing that Botta had ever heard him utter: "Am I a good person?"
Botta blinked. "Sir?"
Yuan looked at him, but without focus, staring through him. He spoke quickly, listing. "For a few thousand years, I went along with the plans of a madman. I'm currently trying to kill a man who was my closest friend for most of those years. Again. I'm going to use a kid against him." He went on like this for a short while and Botta simply sat in a stunned silence, watching him more than listening. Yuan had never looked small to him. Yuan had never looked confused to him. Never unsure, never afraid, never... old.
Yuan's eyes snapped back into focus. "I'm not, am I?"
How could anyone answer that question? "Sir, I think... I believe that there are wrong actions that are necessary," he said, making it up as he went along. "And that to not do a wrong, necessary action is, in a way, to do a wrong, unnecessary action. So as long as all the wrong actions a person performs are necessary, they cannot be a truly bad person."
Lord Yuan didn't say anything to that, looking through him once again. Botta would have given anything to know what was going on in the other man's mind. He noticed that Yuan fiddling with one of his fingers, feeling below the first knuckle with his thumb. It occurred to him that Yuan had once had a ring there. When-
"I lost it."
Botta looked up into the older man's eyes, apparently having been caught staring. He wasn't sure, but he had the odd feeling that this was had caused Yuan to visit him. This was what he needed to talk about. "When, sir?"
"I don't know."
"Where have you looked for it?" There was something important about this ring. He didn't know what, but if it had no material value as he suspected, there had to be a strong meaning behind it. Very strong.
"I haven't."
Botta blinked. "I don't understand, sir."
"Neither do I."
He had to ask. "Sir, what was the importance of that ring?"
Yuan looked at him. "I haven't told you?"
"No, sir."
There was a long pause, so long he thought that the older man wouldn't tell him.
"I was engaged once, Botta," Yuan said softly. "A long time ago."
He... Lord Yuan. Engaged. In love. Botta knew he was staring but couldn't bring himself to stop. In a tone just as soft, if not softer, he asked, "What happened to her?"
"She died."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Don't be. It was a long time ago. It's over."
It wouldn't be right for him to ask why Yuan still wore that ring if that were so. It wouldn't be. It wasn't his place. Another question, perhaps: "Who was she?"
Yuan looked at him once more and this time he was certain he would go unanswered. He was answered, though, and so quietly that he nearly missed it.
What could he say to that? What could anyone say to that?
They sat in silence for a while, Botta studying the floor, digesting what he had heard.
Yuan studying him. "I don't really know you, Botta. Three and a half hundred years with you and I don't know you."
He looked up. "No, sir."
Yuan was still looking at him oddly. "We're not what one would call friends, are we?"
For the fourth time that morning, Botta blinked. "Depends on the definition, sir." Was that why Yuan had come to him? He had needed to talk with a friend and Botta was the closest equivalent he had? Botta felt unimaginably sad at that.
"What's your definition, Botta?"
It was suddenly very hard to look the man in the eyes. "Someone who can be depended upon and trusted. Someone who a person can talk to."
There was a long, somewhat awkward silence.
"Then we are friends." Was that a statement or a question?
"I suppose so, sir."
"...I see."
He stood up, presumably to go.
Now it was Botta's turn to need to talk. "Ah, sir?"
The only sign that Yuan had heard was the slight turning of the head, Yuan looking at him through a blue curtain of hair.
"Sir, I heard the Chosen's report of how Lloyd's group is coming for the Rheiards."
"I'm going to meet them in the hanger."
"I know that, sir. I was wondering if I might accompany you."
No response.
"I want to redeem myself, sir, for my defeat at the Sylvarant Base."
No response.
Botta didn't add anything.
"...Don't be late."
"Yes, sir."
And so Yuan went back to normal.
And Botta went back to bed.