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Final Fantasy X-2 - Paine - Childish Fears

Title: Childish Fears
Series: Final Fantasy X-2
Character: Paine
Rating: PG
Warnings: Rated PG for gore
Written: '05-'06
Summary: Paine introspective.
A/N: This was kind of a mind puke with no real purpose. I used to RP Paine, so this was basically about my Paine muse.

Paine often dreamed about the guys. Sometimes they were just nonsensical dreams, like Gippal driving a shoopuf and Baralai coiled up in its trunk and Nooj tied up and hanging off the side yelling obscenities at them. Sometimes they were like fuzzy memories, memories of happiness and laughter, the first time she'd ever had any real friends. Sometimes they were painful, and she whimpered in her sleep, remembering their blood on her hands and the wounds on her shoulders. Tossing, turning, almost crying, she would relive those terrible moments over and over again—screaming their names, trying not to cry as she ran through a battlefield of broken bodies, the battle over and lost. Washing up onto the beach were limbs and bloody debris, legs and arms and even partially intact heads. She tried not to look, her stomach turning. Pyreflies were everywhere, floating from the corpses of dead Sin spawn, disturbingly beautiful as they danced amongst the gore. While having these vivid nightmares, she never realized she cried out in her sleep, in a weak little voice, "Guys... guys... guys..."

She could have run for days looking for them. She could have searched the globe trying to find them. They were her comfort, her friends, the people that she needed most. Without them, she was alone. She couldn't hear herself screaming inside, Please! Please don't leave me alone! I don't want to be alone again! Her life had been spent in a shelter of comfortable loneliness, all held within herself, all emotion carefully concealed behind her ruby eyes. Gippal had said they were like dragon eyes, that she must have fire inside her. Baralai said they were like jewels with ancient pasts and dark secrets. Nooj said they were like blood; they showed proof she was alive. He had told her once—in confidence—that no matter how lonely a person might be, no matter how dead they may feel on the inside, every time they bleed they should remember they're alive. They are always alive. Death, to him, was an end to existence. Nothing continued after death. She didn't know what she believed, but she had always thought that was a sad belief.

When they left her, she was left with only memories and questions and a deep, agonizing hole where pain and desperation dwelt. If there was fire inside her, it had burnt to embers; if there were secrets, they'd been lost. But she was alive, and she would always look for the answer. She thought it was the answer to the questions of their past, to the questions of their future. What she didn't know then was that what she really wanted were the answers to her future. She did not want to be alone forever.


love is a grave mental disease
Po is a writer, a writer of fictions

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