Fic: Changes (FFX, Tidus/Yuna, for Black Dove)

[h_c_anon]

Title: Changes
Fandom: Final Fantasy X
Pairing: Tidus/Yuna
Author/artist: anime_angel_ash
Recipient: Black Dove
Rating: G
Word Count: 5417
Request: FFX, Tidus/Yuna - Caught in a rain storm. Fic, please!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or settings used herein. Those belong to Square-Enix.
Summary: She's changed so much since they last saw each other. Maybe even too much.

There were a lot of things to celebrate in Besaid that night. There were so many, in fact, that even their traditional, festive bonfire seemed to be burning brighter, the flames constantly being fanned by the incredible amount of energy that bounced and swirled around the village hub. Yuna had finally returned from two years of seeing Spira (and saving it, though she, Rikku, and Paine had decided to keep that to themselves for now, lest they dampen the mood with a lot of might-have-beens), and this time it was to stay. Vidina was officially five days old now and, at present, almost anything involving Besaid’s newest resident required some type of celebration. And last, but certainly not least, Tidus was back. It was on this in particular that Yuna focused her attention.

He was exactly the way she remembered him, even after all this time. The same face, the same smile, the same laugh that carried across the bonfire pit to where she sat directly opposite him, Rikku and Paine on either side of her. To Yuna, everything about this-everything about seeing him again-verged on unbelievable. She hardly dared to blink as she watched him try futilely (and insincerely, she guessed, if the smile on his face was any indication) to fend off the extremely lively Aurochs. Otherwise, a tiny part of her feared, she might open her eyes to find him gone; find that he was never there.

And yet, it didn’t happen. No matter how often she blinked, he was still there when her eyes opened again, his smile wide as he laughed at some joke one of the Aurochs made at another’s expense. He was really here. He was really back. He was-

“Isn’t that right, Yunie?” Without warning, an arm was flung haphazardly about the brunette’s shoulders, nearly sending her tumbling into Paine with a surprised yelp. Straightening herself as best she could, Yuna glanced to her right and came face to face with a smiling Rikku, the look in the girl’s eyes as expectant as it was merry.

“Huh? What?” Yuna responded, casting an oblivious glance from her cousin to Paine, and then back again.

“Hmm. Looks like she was too absorbed to listen,” Paine observed, a small, teasing smile on her lips.

“Yeah, Yunie,” Rikku added impishly, pawing at her cousin’s shoulder. Glancing off across the fire, she looked directly at Tidus, who was attempting to high-five three different Auroch’s simultaneously. An amused smirk spreading across her face that distinctly reminded Yuna of a Zurvan, she blonde added, “What’s so interesting?”

“Oh! You two!” Yuna whined, shaking her head sadly at friends’ taunts as a blush crept across her cheeks. They could be so cruel!

“I said,” Rikku started, apparently deciding to give her poor, confused cousin a break, “that Tidus is a dork.”

“Rikku!” Yuna chided, shifting so she could more effectively glare at her cousin.

“Well, he is!” Rikku defended, gesturing less than subtly across the fire pit toward the young man in question. “Sitting over there, giving all his attention to the boys when you’re right here. Seems pretty dorky to me.”

That was a bit true, Yuna had to admit. Since their reunion at the shore, darkness had fallen on the island, clouds had moved in to crowd the once clear blue sky, and the two of them hadn’t spoken again. He’d been at the mercy of the Aurochs all night, being praised for his mysterious return, told that they were definitely going to dominate next season with him on the team, and asked if he’d like to see Vidina for the tenth time that night. To say the least, they’d been hogging him, and though Yuna was beginning to feel a microscopic bit of jealously roiling in the pit of her stomach, she wasn’t about to break up their little party-within-a-party. He was there friend too, after all, and they had just as much right to revel in his return as she did.

Rikku, however, didn’t seem to agree. “You should just bust in there and steal him,” she suggested, miming wrapping her arms around something as a means of emphasizing her point. “It’s not like he’ll mind.”

“It would be nice to get to talk to him a bit,” Yuna agreed, stifling a giggle as she watched Tidus struggle to free himself from one of Wakka’s infamous headlocks.

“Think he’ll recognize you?” Paine finally said, watching the men’s antics with her chin in a hand and a raised eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“You’ve come a long way from who you used to be,” the warrior elaborated. “Think you might confuse him?”

She meant it as a joke, Yuna knew. The small, sly smile she wore was proof enough of that. And yet, as Yuna glanced down at herself, breathless dread filled her, crawling about in her stomach like some kind of repulsive worm.

She . . . she had changed. A lot. This wasn’t the first time she’d noticed of course, not by a long shot. After all, it hadn’t been a complete accident, and almost two years of forced transformation was a bit hard to ignore. But now-now it really hit her, and reality had a swift backhand. Suddenly, the realization of just how much she had changed was too great for her to even attempt to ignore. And he-she looked up again, back over to the blond, though her eyes no longer held the dreaminess of before-he was . . .

Panicked thoughts rushing through her mind at several million paces per minute, Yuna was a bit too preoccupied to hear much of what was being said around her. For instance, she missed the harsh whisper of, “Paine! Sssh!” coming from her right. She missed Paine’s confused half-shrug of apology, as well. However, it was a bit difficult to ignore the arm around her shoulders tightening, pulling her to Rikku’s side.
“Well, only one way to find out,” the Al Bhed said, a mischievous smile on her face as she stood, hauling Yuna up with her. Before Yuna could say anything to deter her, Rikku had one hand thrown into the air, waving erratically toward the other side of the fire. “Hey! Tidus! Tidus! Come over here a sec!”

“Wait, what?” Yuna shrieked, trying to pry herself away from the unexpectedly strong Al Bhed. “Rikku, no! Don’t-!”

But, unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one unable to ignore Rikku. Already Tidus was getting to his feet and unraveling himself from the crowd of Aurochs that surrounded him, all the while smiling at the hyperactive blonde and the quietly panicking brunette. Yuna somehow managed to return the smile, though it felt feeble and weak on her lips. The closer he got, the deeper it sunk in, and the more her dread grew. She’d changed; she’d changed quite a bit. But, as she had observed earlier than night, he hadn’t. He hadn’t changed at all. And he might not like the fact that she had.

---

Rikku, however, didn’t seem to notice Yuna’s sudden mood shift from carefree to fretful. Either that, or she’d simply refused to heed it (which was, admittedly, a very Rikku-esque thing to do, given the situation). Regardless, the next thing Yuna knew, the Al Bhed was shoving her and Tidus past the village walls into the darkness of the forest beyond.

“You two need some alone time,” Rikku said, a giggle in her voice as she handed the befuddled duo a light sphere. “Show him around, Yunie. I mean, it’s been two years! There’s plenty of new stuff to show off.”

“But Besaid hasn’t really-” Yuna started, though she had a sneaking suspicion that Rikku wasn’t really talking about the island.

However, before she could finish, Rikku gave the couple one last push and then, waving in a way that was as final as it as enthusiastic, scampered back over to the fire, casting a look over her shoulder to make sure they didn’t try to sneak back into the village.

“Uh, okay then,” Tidus said, rubbing the back of his head and raising an eyebrow. Giving Yuna a bemused sidelong glance, he threw his hands behind his head and cocked his hip to the side, the same way he used to during the pilgrimage. “Well, you heard her,” he said, smiling at the peculiarity of the whole situation. “Let’s get going.”

Unfortunately, despite Tidus’ cheerfulness at its offset, their little walk was mostly spent in an uncomfortable silence. The two had chosen to take the well-trodden path that led from the village to the beach, though more out of habit than any conscious thought. Indeed, neither had even bothered to ask where they should head. It was simply a familiar route, one that they both knew like the backs of their hands. That was good enough for Yuna, for she was far too busy with her own thoughts to think about much else.

What must he think of her, she thought as she glanced at Tidus out of the corner of her eye. She was different from the Yuna he knew; much, much different, and up until now, she hadn’t really stopped to consider just how obvious she was being about it. For the first time in years, as she clasped her fidgeting hands together and stared down at the planks of the bridge they were proceeding across, she pined for her more conservative summoner’s robes, her staff, and her temple-cultivated modesty. Suddenly, she felt strangely naked without them. The fact that she could feel those curious blue eyes of Tidus’ on her constantly didn’t exactly help the situation much, either.

“Yuna?” he said abruptly, his voice gentle; almost cautious.

“Huh?” she responded, both her voice and body betraying her nervousness as her voice shook and she turned to face him too quickly. Setting her jaw and barely concealing a twitch of annoyance at her own lack of subtlety, she prayed that he hadn’t notic-

Then, somewhere amongst the shrubs and shadows behind him, Yuna glimpsed the tiniest bit of movement, and the sound of panting quickly met her ears. Battle-trained eyes flying from Tidus’ face to the area behind his shoulder, she quickly spotted the source. A Coyote, its jagged teeth shining and its eyes wild with the sort of hate that only a fiend could know, was bolting out of the undergrowth at the side of the path, its gaze focused unblinkingly on Tidus and herself. As with most fiends, it wasn’t particularly subtle about what it wanted.

Tidus must have seen her look of surprise, because it was only half a moment before he turned, too, putting on his toughest battle-face and reaching for his sword. However, he needn’t have bothered; Yuna was too quick for him. Before he’d even worked himself into an effective stance, her pistol was already raised and firing, bullet after bullet whizzing out of the barrel in a rapid bout of Trigger Happy. By the time he actually had his sword out and ready to go, the battle-which would have taken twice as long and been a much more even match two years ago-was over, the fiend disintegrating into pyreflies at the side of the path and Yuna’s gun already back at her hip as if it had never been drawn.

Tidus, meanwhile, was left with nothing to do but gape in amazement, his eyes the size of blitzballs and his sword-arm hanging limply at his side. Yuna would have laughed (or more, stifled a chuckle behind her hand so that he wouldn’t feel bad) had she not been hit with the realization of what she had just done.

The old Yuna wouldn’t have been able to do that. The old Yuna, as inept at physical combat as she had been, had rarely bothered with anything other than magic and summoning. Besides, when she had, it’d never amounted to anything unless the target in question had already been on its last legs. Physical attacks just hadn’t been her area of expertise. That was the Yuna he knew, and she’d just introduced him none too tactfully to the new Yuna’s skill with a pistol. It probably wouldn’t have been more obvious if she’d been shooting at him. Suddenly, she had the immense urge to yank the weapon from her hip and throw it over the bridge’s railing, as if burned by it.

“Y-Yuna!” Tidus cried as he finally came to his senses, whipping around so fast that the Brotherhood nearly went flying out of his hand (though, if the look on his face was any indication, he probably wouldn’t have noticed or cared if it had). The slack-jawed awe that had painted his face but a moment before was gone now, replaced by an immense, completely ecstatic grin. “Yuna, that was amaz-!”

Yuna, however, had already turned away from him and was continuing down the path, her strides quick and automatic. Oh no. No, no, no. Now he really knew, she thought as she put a hand to her mouth, biting down nervously on one of her knuckles. There was no going back, now. There was no way out of this. There was no-

But going back from what? A way out of what? As she reached the crest of the hill that marked the fork leading to the beach, she slowed and laced her fingers together, staring down at them cheerlessly. Was that what she wanted? Did she . . . did she want to go back to the way she was?

She had the answer almost as soon as she’d asked the question: no, she didn’t want to go back. She might have been happy back then, back when she was the gentle, soft-spoken summoner who everyone adored and secretly pitied. But now that she wasn’t living for anyone else’s approval or endorsement, now that who she was was her own decision, she was happier than she’d ever been. She was herself now, and that’s how she wanted to stay. She would, too. And if he didn’t like it, didn’t like what she’d become, well then . . .!

Then . . .

“Hey, Yuna! Wait up!”

Pausing as she reached the bottom of the earth-covered bit of ruins that was generously called a hill, she glanced back to see Tidus speedily making his way down after her. After jumping the last few feet to the earth below (and nearly falling flat on his face in the process; he was walking around in the dark, after all, and Yuna felt suddenly guilty for leaving him behind), he walked into the pool of spherelight that surrounded her, his head tilted and a look of concern in his eyes. “Yuna?” he said warily. “What’s wrong?”

Blunt. He’d always been that way. That had been one of the things that had made him so intriguing when they’d first met. Even that hadn’t changed. “Yes, of course,” she lied, lacing her fingers together and putting on her best carefree smile. “I’m just a bit tired, is all. Maybe we should start back?”

It only took a moment for her to realize, with a twinge of disappointment, that the act did her little good. Not only did his worried expression remain, but he was still as tentative as ever as he reached for her shoulder, stepping toward her as if she were some sort of frightened animal. “Are you su-?”

His question was cut off, however, by his own startled yelp as he jerked in surprise, then crossed his eyes to stare at his nose. Brow furrowed in confusion, Yuna was about to see if a fiend with Confuse had bitten him while they hadn’t been looking, when something cold and wet splashed against her shoulder. Turning her head for a moment to glance at it, she then quickly glanced up to the sky above, which was black as ink and completely devoid of stars. No moon, either, a fact she hadn’t realized during her previous state of anxiety. That meant . . . uh oh.

As if to confirm her fears, the sky gave a great rumble, and though it came from somewhere off past the eastern shore of the island, that was all the affirmation Yuna needed. It was apparently the same for Tidus, for when she turned to look at him, he was staring right back at her, eyes wide with realization. No sooner did they share that apprehensive glance than lightning streaked across the sky, and the rain began to come down.

Like most Besaidean rains, it did not start lightly. Hardly an instant after it had begun, the rain was coming down in torrents, hitting the duo with a barrage of fat, wet raindrops that made quick work of soaking them to the bone. Letting out an indignant squeal, Yuna threw her arms over her head in an attempt to save herself from the onslaught of rain, though it was a futile effort. After glancing up and seeing that Tidus was doing the same thing and achieving just as much success, Yuna cast her gaze about the area, searching for any sort of shelter that might save them from this salvo. She spotted the perfect place not a moment later, a filth-swathed square of metal sticking out of the hill marking its entrance.

“Come on!” she called to Tidus, grabbing his arm and bolting for the familiar and mercifully placed entrance to Wakka’s cave. Hitting it at a run, it took her less than half an instant to enter the required ciphers, whereupon the door slid open with a groan and a crash.

“How long’s this been here?” Tidus asked after they’d stumbled in, drenched and groping along the walls to keep from running headlong into them. Glancing about as he let his eyes adjust to darkness even deeper than that of the night outside, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted into the cavern, listening as his own voice echoed back to him.

“A while, I think,” Yuna answered as she felt along her braid and the fabric that wrapped it to see if either was wet enough to warrant unwinding. “I guess Wakka used to play here with Chappu,” she explained, slowly backpedaling until she reached the wall opposite the cave’s entrance and sank to the floor, setting the light sphere down beside her. “We found him looking for a sphere here a few months ago.”

“Huh.” After taking a moment to gaze up at the cave’s ceiling, Tidus quickly crossed to where Yuna sat and plopped down beside her. Staring out of the cave entrance and watching as the rain came down in sheets, he said, “Things sure have changed around here.”

“Hmm?” Yuna replied, her finger punching through one of the fabric’s loose seams as her heart shot into her ears. Was he talking about her?

“They have,” he said, gesturing about them in a broad, lazy fashion. “Like, this cave. Never saw this before.”

“That’s not really a change,” Yuna pointed out, brushing her thumb along the hairs at the very end of her braid. “It’s been here for a while, actually.”

“It is to me,” Tidus replied, throwing his arms behind his head and leaning back against the rough cavern wall. However, it was apparently an argument unworthy of dispute, for he quickly moved on. “What about the airships? There’s no way that one you came in on was Rikku’s old man’s.”

“No, it’s not,” Yuna agreed. “It’s the Gullwings’.”

“So, are airships all the rage now, or something?”

“Not exactly,” Yuna answered, chuckling a little and alleviating her anxiety that much more. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. “But people are accepting of it, so I suppose it is a bit of a change.”

“And what about you? You’ve changed, too.”

And just like that, her stomach turned, her laughter ceased, and her unease was back full-force. After briefly glancing up at him, she turned her gaze to the cave’s floor, running a finger absentmindedly across the dirt and rocks there. “What do you mean?”

“Well, like, you’re hair,” he said, reaching over and gently taking her fabric-wrapped braid in hand. “This is your hair, right?”

Well, that hadn’t been quite what she’d expected. That was good, at least. “Uh huh.”

“Jeez, Yuna! How’d it get so long?” Touching the fabric lightly with the tips of his fingers, he brushed a hand along the braid’s length, tracing it to the back of her neck. His fingers lingered there idly, two of them inadvertently venturing to graze the back of her neck. He might as well have shot a blast of Thunder down her spine, she thought as she anxiously bit down on the inside of her lip. The effect would doubtlessly have been the same either way.

“Rikku ground up a chocobo feather and put it in my shampoo,” she answered, narrowing her eyes at the memory. Meanwhile, her restless fingers found the bit of cloth that covered her left leg, and she casually took it in hand before wringing it taut.

He, meanwhile, was too busying laughing at her tale to notice; a sweet, bubbly laugh, one that reminded her of sunshine and balconies and learning how to whistle. “That sounds like something Rikku would do,” he agreed, finally releasing her braid and pulling his hand back from her neck. “Some kind of experiment?”

“That is what she called it,” Yuna agreed. “Though I can’t say what she was experimenting for.”

“Testing for her own, maybe?” Tidus suggested, and out of the corner of her eye, Yuna could see him waving his hands around his head in what, she guessed, was supposed to be an illustration of her cousin’s less than commonplace hair-do. Despite the mass of nerves that was still mercilessly turning her stomach-or, possibly, because of them-a tiny chuckle still managed to slide past Yuna’s lips.

“Maybe,” she said, brushing her dusty fingers off on her leg and considering his conclusion. Rikku’s hair had gotten quite a bit longer since then . . .

“So,” Tidus said, ducking down until he was practically lying in her lap and effectively forcing her to look him in the face. “Were there any more experiments?”

And just like that, it was back to full-on worry. “Um . . .” she started, the words catching in her throat as she tried to think of the proper way to arrange them. “I suppose you could say that.”

“I was kind of wondering,” he admittedly sheepishly, as if he’d stumbled upon a secret that he wasn’t supposed to know about. As if, Yuna thought as she glanced down at her exposed stomach, bare legs, and the gun at her hip, it wasn’t obvious. Gently reaching out to touch her shoulder, he added, “I like it, though.”

His hand was soft and hot against her clammy skin, the worn material of his glove gently brushing against her and, ironically, sending barely concealed chills shooting through her arms and neck. Shutting her eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath to conceal her shivering, she turned her gaze toward the cave entrance, watching the now soaked landscape beyond with half-lidded eyes.

“How long do you think it’s going to rain?” Yuna suddenly found herself asking, her voice low and quiet. It was a complete downpour out there by now, raindrops crushing the ground dwelling foliage, turning the earth to mud, and beating savagely away at her and Tidus’ hiding spot. Nonetheless, the sound of it was still pleasant in its own way, soothing as it battered the outer walls of their shelter.

“Dunno,” Tidus answered, shrugging casually but never once removing his hand. “I’ve never been here during a rainstorm before, you know?”

“That’s true,” she agreed listlessly, listening to the downpour and trying to distract herself from the warmth of his hand. How good it would feel to hold it again, she thought, after all this time. To lace her fingers through his like she had done two years ago as the freezing Macalania air had bit at her skin but the warmth of his fingers and smile had made her disregard it.

There would be no harm in it. Glancing down at his hand, she took a breath and slowly reached for it with her own, worry-stiffened one. She just wanted to . . . there would be no harm in it. No harm in wanting to touch him-feel him-again. Even if . . . even if it ended up that he. . .

But then, just as her fingertips were brushing the tops of his knuckles, she froze. After one indecisive moment, her trembling hand hovering over his suspiciously still one, she clumsily withdrew, pulling her hand back to her chest like a child that had been caught stealing sweets.

“Yuna?” he said almost immediately, confusion and concern weighing down his normally cheerful voice. Suddenly, she wished she hadn’t even tried it in the first place. How foolish could she be, thinking he magically wouldn’t notice? “Oh, nothing,” Yuna replied, a bit too quickly to really sound convincing. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.” He’d never been one to let things like this go, had he?

“No, no, really.” Glancing up and casting him a feeble, forced smile that she hoped would look at least marginally genuine, she shook her head, and in the process never quite managed meet his eyes. “I’m all right.”

Though Yuna knew quite well that there was no one left for her to pray to, old habits died hard, and she found herself doing it anyway. She prayed that he would simply leave it at that so that they might wait out the remainder of the storm in silence. It would undoubtedly be a rather uncomfortable silence, but still, she much preferred that option to what was happening right now. If he’d only stop-or better yet, if the storm would only die down and allow them to leave this tension-laden place-then she could gather her composure, get herself together, and then-

“Yuna . . .”

And then, suddenly, time was slowing down. A hand softly brushed her cheek, taking her chin and gently urging her to turn, to look at him. Then again, maybe it was just her mind that was slowing down, because that hand met with no resistance.

She’d seen that look before. Brow creased and blue eyes wide with anxiety, all underscored with a sense of adoration. The only thing missing was the icy blue tint that the crystals at Macalania had given to his skin. She knew that look, and she knew what came after. Yet, once again he was met with no resistance as he leaned in, the potential consequences long forgotten, and kissed her. It was just like before. Exactly like before.

Except on her part.

Not an instant later, she’d hastily pulled herself away from him, hands against his shoulders to hold him at arm’s length. Had her mind not been on more pressing matters, she might have laughed at the look on his face. Lips parted in perfect imitation of a fish at market and eyes fluttering open as sweet abandon gave way to utter befuddlement, he looked more than a little bit ridiculous. Comical, even. At least, until that confusion was replaced with a harshly downturned brow and a nearly tangible sense of hurt. “Yuna?”

“You . . .” She curled her fingers around the white and yellow fabric covering his shoulders, kneading it restlessly. “You haven’t changed a bit. You’re just like you always were.”

Blinking with renewed puzzlement, he tilted his head to the side, which made him look remarkably similar to a bewildered puppy. “Yuna, what are you-?”

“But I-,” she interrupted, concentrating not on his face, but instead on the familiar symbol that dangled around his neck and bounced against his chest. “I’ve changed. Just like you said. I’ve changed.”

If he understood what she was trying to say, he made no effort to show it. Or, then again, maybe he did. All she knew was that he stayed completely silent, though whether out of understanding or just augmented confusion, she couldn’t tell. “I’m not the same person, anymore,” she continued, unable to make the words stop. She had to, she had to, or else it would all come out and he’d know and then-! But they still poured from her without restraint, matching perfectly the manner of the storm outside. As the rain pounded down, not to be stopped by anything, so did her words. “So-so much has happened. So much has happened to Spira, and to everyone else, and to me. So much has changed, and I’m different now. I’m-I’m not the same Yuna that-”

“But you are Yuna!” And then his hands were on her shoulders, too, squeezing them a bit tighter than he probably meant to. Still, it got her attention quickly enough, and her eyes finally rose to meet his. Almost simultaneously, a deafening burst of thunder blasted through the atmosphere, making it sound like the sky itself was cracking apart over their heads.

“I know that,” she answered, letting her hands slide away from him and looking down at them as if they held some sort of answer. “I know. But . . . I’m not the same. So I don’t know if you’ll still want to . . .”

Then, all she could hear was the rain, pounding down with no sign of stopping. On and on it went, the sounds of crashing and thumping and splashing ricocheting through the cave and surrounding her, trapping her in this one, frozen moment that she’d never escape-

Then, his fingers were brushing across her face, and she was snapped back to reality as if via whip-crack. Starting at her temple, he slowly traced a finger to the skin beneath her eye, then down along her cheek as its sibling restively massaged her shoulder. It might have been a rather romantic gesture, had he been smiling or something of the like. However, he seemed more uncertain than suave, his eyes darting nervously about her face and his hands quivering against her skin. If he’d had any heartening, debonair language in his vocabulary before now that might have been of use, youthful inexperience had quickly done away with them. Now, he didn’t seem to be left with much; just the ability to touch her and apparently a few less-than polished words.

“Um . . . uh, well,” he started, speaking slowly and brokenly, as if he was being heard over a particularly old sphere. “I can get to know you again, you know?”

. . . What?

“I mean, I don’t really mind. Do you?” he asked, feigning collectedness even as he stumbled over his words. The fact that she was staring at him with wide, confused eyes probably didn’t help to soothe him. “And it’s not like that’d be a bad thing anyway, right?” Apparently unnerved by her gaze, he glanced up at the cavern’s ceiling, his fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm against her taut shoulder muscle. “I mean, getting to spend time with you and everything? That wouldn’t be bad at all, right?”

There was some kind of magic in those words. As he spoke, it felt as if something was inflating in the pit of her stomach, jostling about and then rising up through her chest. Something light and airy, like the bursting of bubbles or the flitting of wings, wrapping itself around her insides and curling the corners of her lips. “No,” she said, and before she knew it, his hand was no longer on her face, but was rather held tight between both of hers. “No! Of course not. That’d be wonderful!”

That feeling of hers was apparently stronger than she had been aware. Either that, or it was contagious. The next thing she knew, his gaze was back on her, a smile cautiously moving its way across his face. “You could tell me everything,” he added, gaining momentum. “Everything that’s happened. And I wouldn’t let Wakka interrupt this time.”

“I could start now.” She glanced away from him just long enough to see that, yes, the storm was still pounding on relentlessly outside, and she couldn’t help but let a chuckle escape her lips. “I think we’re going to be here for a while.”

“Sure! Go for it!” he blurted, leaning forward like an eager child. Exactly like before. However, as the rain continued to come down and she started her story with the tried and true line of when it all began, she didn’t see any problem with that.