second chance

when all we wanted was the dream
to have and to hold that precious little thing
like every generation yields
the new born hope unjaded by the years




I believe everyone deserves a second chance. Once I didn't, but I was a brash, foolish boy in that time. I didn't realize the meaning of life, or how precious it was. Time and tragedy can change people's perception in unspeakable ways.

I remember everyone I've ever met in my life. Though some of the faces may be blurred, the impressions are still there, pools of memory I can touch; they're clear, though they may ripple and waver. I hold them close to me, because they are indeed special.

But of all those lives, two stand out above all the others, brilliant like diamands, warm and comforting as the campfire we spent so many nights around. The memories are there, still intact; I can recall each mannerism, each expression like our time together was but yesterday. I remember everything about them.

Two people who never got a second chance.

Looking back, I think I loved them. Jecht, the man who was everything I wasn't: loud, obnoxious, outspoken, but always painfully sincere, no matter what the cost. I used to hate him, I thought him so arrogant, but I didn't know. I didn't know him. And Braska -- calm and reserved and pure -- the perfect sacrifice. From the first time we met, when we were still but children, I would have followed him to the end of the world. I would have sold my soul to see him smile.

He lacked the haughtiness so many of his fellow summoners possessed. He was a humble man; a strong man. He gave everything, trusted everyone, and asked for nothing in return.

Together, I knew we could do anything. Nothing, not even Sin, could stop us.

We could save the world.

Our bond was stronger than brotherhood. We knew everything about each other, believing in each other no matter how incredulous it may have seemed. Even I, in time, came to know Jecht's fantastic tale of Zanarkand as truth.

Seeing things from where I stand now, I realize many things I couldn't understand before. I used to feel just a little alienated and alone at times, usually when Braska and Jecht spoke of their familes. Wives and children and things I'd never known. Sometimes, the stories were funny. Sometimes they were sad. But they were memories of a different time, something to hold close and never let go. They'd tell their stories, and we'd laugh or smile or feel that painful surge of loss, and then it would go quiet. Then, that short pause would come, that almost awkward blanketing silence where we'd just look at each other. I remember the twin expressions in their eyes: an almost wistful look that would linger on, even after our conversation had resumed.

I think they'd seen that expression in my own eyes. I wonder if they understood. I felt it like the ocean feels the pull of the moon, but didn't understand it until much later. Sometimes, I even wonder what would have happened, had we reacted on those feelings? Would we have changed? I've come to realize that if all people loved only one other, the world would be much smaller, much colder.

I try not to think too much about those times, but sometimes I think the memories are all I have left. Our time together was never long enough. There were too many things left undone, and too many things left unsaid. So many possibilities...

I remember everything about that journey. It was our great adventure, and our last. While Jecht and I may have been Braska's Guardians, he was our strength.

What we didn't know...

I wonder what would have been different, had we realized the futility of our quest. When we stood before Yunalesca, when she told us that it was all useless. Pointless, and too cruel. We would die, And for what?

I couldn't accept it. And when I saw them ready, prepared, even, I understood too much.

When Jecht smiled, and said he was ready. He knew he would never get to his home. Everything of the life he'd known was lost to him forever. When he took my place as Braska's final power, and asked only that I find his home and family in return. When Braska said his life didn't matter, if his sacrifice would bring a moment's rest to Spira.

I couldn't accept it, but I understood. We embraced for goodbye, and they left me to go on ahead. Alone.

I understood, I was nothing but a foolish boy, a selfish child in the presence of two men who were stronger than I'd ever be. Strength...skill didn't matter if I hadn't the courage to use it.

It should have been me. Jecht wasn't the first guard. He had a family, a life and home to return to. All I had was Braska, and him. I had nothing, no one who would have blinked an eye had I gone.

They'd given up everything, and in the end I couldn't give anything.

It should have been me. I should have been the one Braska could call upon.

I don't know what happened after they went through those doors, but I felt him go. A frozen wind of sorrow and loss blew through my soul; it shattered me. In that moment, something died inside of me, and I felt so raw and utterly empty.

I had no one left. And in my madness, I placed the blame on Yunalesca. She was the first; she should have done something. There had to be a way -- Sin wasn't invincible. Did she try to think of another way, in all those years? Did she even care?

I attacked her, blinded with sorrow and rage. But I was nothing, nothing more than an insect in the face of her power. Her magic went straight through me, broke me and I couldn't even stand for all the blood I was slipping in...I was choking and drowning in my own blood, my own weakness and grief.

Defeated, before I'd even begun. Sometimes, I wonder if I was looking for a way to die. It should have been me. I should have become Braska's strength. At least I should have died with them. But Jecht interfered again. His words saved my mind, even if it was too late for my body. His last wish brought me back. With his life, he bought me time to find a way to truly defeat Sin, to succeed where they had surely failed.

I died that day, yet somehow I lived on. I had to fulfil my promise to Jecht...no matter what the cost.

Someday, someday soon, I know I will see Jecht again. But the memory, the vessel will have changed. Maybe, just maybe, there will be some piece of him left within that great dark beast.

It hurts to know that I will be trying to kill him.



I found Jecht's Zanarkand. I found his wife, though her heart was shattered by the loss I understood too well and she died while I stood by her side, hopeless and grieving. I found his son. And in Spira, I know Yuna lives.

Now, now I know. The children, they are Jecht and Braska's second chances.

And, in a way, I believe they are mine, too.

-fin

Notes: I finished this before I'd finished the game, so the ending is a little weird. Eventually I'll change it, but for now, it stands. Oops.