Fic: For The Best (Dissidia)
Written for the ffchaoticcosmos Relationships challenge. I bet you can't tell I've been playing FFIV recently.
Title: For The Best
Rating: PG-ish (contains character death and mentions of blood, but nothing graphic).
Summary: Kain's mission is simple, except for one single problem.
Kain is a coward. He knows this. That’s why he puts off killing Cecil until the last possible minute. That’s why he tries to avoid him- tries to travel with anyone, everyone except him.
It’s all so much easier said than done. Cecil is always there, with a kind smile and a friendly challenge, tugging on far too many memories that Kain wishes had stayed hidden.
If he was braver, maybe he’d have killed him first, spared him the constant worry when a comrade was late returning and the grief when they never did. Every day that goes by is another chance that he might fall at another’s blade. Every day that goes by is another chance that the manikins might get him first and doom him to oblivion. He could make it quick. He could make it painless. He could save him.
And still he does nothing. Days and weeks pass, and he does nothing. He can feel his resolve weakening with every hour, until all he wants to do is break down and confess everything.
But that’s the one thing he won’t, can’t allow himself, because he knows Cecil would listen, understand, forgive, damn him. He knows that, out of everyone, Cecil would be the one to follow him into every battle, to stand without question by his side. After all, he’s done it before, time and again.
And that’s exactly why Kain can’t let him.
He finally finds his resolve on a clear day as they approach Sanctuary. It’s late afternoon and they’ve been walking in amiable silence for some time when Cecil strides ahead to the top of the hill to catch the first glimpse of their base.
So trusting. It’s all Kain needs.
Cecil falls to his knees as Kain withdraws his spear, crumpling forwards with barely a whisper. When Kain rolls him over, his armour is stained dark red. There’s blood where his smile should be.
Practicality kicks in, of course. It’s no more difficult to scoop him up in his arms than it was for any of the others. It takes no longer to spirit him away to lay him beside all the other comrades that have already fallen to Kain’s lance.
Except it is. And it does.
He tells himself that it’s not bile he tastes at the back of his throat. He tells himself that his eyes aren’t burning. He tells himself again and again that he shouldn’t mourn; that, after all, this really is for the best.
If there’s blood on his armour by the time he returns to Lightning and the others, and if he says even less than usual, none of them mention it.
Title: For The Best
Rating: PG-ish (contains character death and mentions of blood, but nothing graphic).
Summary: Kain's mission is simple, except for one single problem.
Kain is a coward. He knows this. That’s why he puts off killing Cecil until the last possible minute. That’s why he tries to avoid him- tries to travel with anyone, everyone except him.
It’s all so much easier said than done. Cecil is always there, with a kind smile and a friendly challenge, tugging on far too many memories that Kain wishes had stayed hidden.
If he was braver, maybe he’d have killed him first, spared him the constant worry when a comrade was late returning and the grief when they never did. Every day that goes by is another chance that he might fall at another’s blade. Every day that goes by is another chance that the manikins might get him first and doom him to oblivion. He could make it quick. He could make it painless. He could save him.
And still he does nothing. Days and weeks pass, and he does nothing. He can feel his resolve weakening with every hour, until all he wants to do is break down and confess everything.
But that’s the one thing he won’t, can’t allow himself, because he knows Cecil would listen, understand, forgive, damn him. He knows that, out of everyone, Cecil would be the one to follow him into every battle, to stand without question by his side. After all, he’s done it before, time and again.
And that’s exactly why Kain can’t let him.
He finally finds his resolve on a clear day as they approach Sanctuary. It’s late afternoon and they’ve been walking in amiable silence for some time when Cecil strides ahead to the top of the hill to catch the first glimpse of their base.
So trusting. It’s all Kain needs.
Cecil falls to his knees as Kain withdraws his spear, crumpling forwards with barely a whisper. When Kain rolls him over, his armour is stained dark red. There’s blood where his smile should be.
Practicality kicks in, of course. It’s no more difficult to scoop him up in his arms than it was for any of the others. It takes no longer to spirit him away to lay him beside all the other comrades that have already fallen to Kain’s lance.
Except it is. And it does.
He tells himself that it’s not bile he tastes at the back of his throat. He tells himself that his eyes aren’t burning. He tells himself again and again that he shouldn’t mourn; that, after all, this really is for the best.
If there’s blood on his armour by the time he returns to Lightning and the others, and if he says even less than usual, none of them mention it.