Date Finished: April 20th, 2003
Classification: Romance, Mild Angst, PWP
Keywords: Post-game
Pairing: Zidane/Kuja
Rating: NC-17
Note: Response to the `Building a Better Relationship, Renovating
Your Love' challenge at AdoptAPlotBunny
(http://lists.squidge.org/wws/info/adoptaplotbunny ;
http://www.squidge.org/~peja/behindthescenes/plotbunnies.htm)
Cathartik
By Elsewhere
<[email protected]>
Disclaimer: The characters and story of Final Fantasy IX are not
mine. Oh well. ;)
The lyrics of `Cathartik' belong to the Tea Party.
Distribution: If you want this story for any page other than the ones
I've sent it to, please ask me first, so I know where it goes.
Spoilers: If you haven't played FF9, you might not get it. ;) Come to
think of it, even if you have, you might not get it...
Kuja/Zidane Disclaimer: In case you look at the pairing and wonder
why I don't have an incest warning...It seems obvious to me that Kuja
and Zidane are only `brothers' in symbolic terms. My reasoning? Take
a deep breath... Garland created the Genomes to be able to carry on an
entire race. Therefore, the Genomes must be able to reproduce.
Therefore, the Genomes must not be identical in genetic structure,
because the offspring, within only a few generations, would be
royally screwed up. THEREFORE, if it's logical and perfectly moral
for male and female Genomes to get it on with one another, what's the
problem with Zidane and Kuja? They are *brothers*---as all Genomes
are *siblings*---in the sense that they were both created---created,
not born---by the same man, the same 'father'. In other words, in all
the ways that count, Zidane and Kuja are no more related than are
Cloud and Sephiroth. <shrug>
Thanx: ...as ever to my wonderful beta reader, Jean, who was, as
always, most Gentle and kind when editing this fic. ;) Also thanx to
the membership of the Battlefields mailing list who let me post there
even though barely any of them know anything about Final Fantasy, and
a special thanx to Adara, who read this over and helped me work out
the kinks, and was also kind enough to offer it a place in her
archive, Blue Pandemonium (http://pandemonium.fanfiction-city.com/).
Summary: A week after the events at the Iifa Tree, Zidane and Kuja
are fixing up a house in Madain Sari, trying to create a new life...
*****
I never wanted to be a simple man
I'd rather live all my days as a lion
Than a thousand as a lamb
I only wanted to see
What would happen to me
If I followed the road
That leads to the palace we all seek
*****
It had taken him some time, but he had finally come to admit that
there truly was nothing quite as likely to make one feel alive as the
sheer strength of sunlight. He had been basking in its heat for hours
now, relentlessly exposing his pale skin to its harsh rays, and he
had realized that the inferno of midday in Madain Sari was the first
thing that had succeeded in breaking the bubble of pleasant emptiness
that had settled over him. His apathy had burned away like paper at
the touch of a match, and if he was numb now, it was only from the
searing sensation of sunburn.
"Mm," he murmured softly in displeasure as he once again caught his
thumb under the head of the hammer. He pulled back, frowning
disdainfully as he brought the injured digit up to his mouth. His
frown only deepened when he realized that his companion was watching
him with obvious amusement.
He sighed, a long-suffering noise that made the other man chuckle
quietly. Determined to ignore his amused friend, he picked up the
hammer again.
A week. It had been nearly a week since his life had radically
changed...since he had faced death within the roots of Iifa, and lived
because of the tenacious will of the young man who even now squatted
a few feet from him, humming softly as he hammered another plank into
place.
They had come to Madain Sari in the hope of finding shelter there...a
place to sort through everything that had happened. Despite the
suspicion of the neighborhood moogles, they had set themselves up in
Eiko Carol's old house, and it had taken them a week---until the
first dust storm had shattered their illusions of security---before
they had realized how much of the roof was missing, not to mention
bits of the outside wall, ripped off in one of the many storms that
had torn through the region during the Mist crisis.
Another dust storm was on the way now, and they had spent the last
four hours working at a steady but feverish pace on the repairs to
the house, hoping to have them finished before the storm damaged the
inside further. They were still trying to clean up the debris from
the last one.
He made the same dissatisfied noise, this time shaking his hand in
irritation, as he again banged his thumb under the hammer.
"You're too impatient," he heard an entirely too cheerful voice say,
and he spun, glaring.
"I'm not impatient," he said firmly, but his frown faded when he saw
the sheer brightness of the smile on the younger man's face.
"Sure, Kuja," Zidane murmured, brushing his hair out of his eyes and
shaking his head as he turned back to his task. He sounded on the
verge of laughter, and Kuja scowled at him for a moment before
returning to his own work. His tail twitched with annoyance, stirring
the dust at his feet, and he glared at the hammer in his hand, trying
to figure out how to tame it.
Gritting his teeth, he tried again, and this time hit his thumb on
the first try.
"Ow!" he protested loudly, settling back on his heels and bringing
his thumb to his mouth again.
Zidane started to laugh.
"It's not funny," Kuja said sourly, voice muffled slightly as he
continued to lightly suck his thumb, trying to ease the sting.
Zidane coughed, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to stop
laughing. His eyes were sparkling with mirth when he glanced over.
"You need any help over there?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow when
Kuja turned to glare at him again.
"No," Kuja said belligerently, turning back to glare at the nail and
hammer. He firmly placed the nail back into place and hefted the
hammer, the expression on his face determined. "Let me do this,
Zidane."
"All right," Zidane said, snorting softly. He watched out of the
corner of his eye as Kuja huffed out an impatient breath, stirring
the silvery strands that had fallen into his face, and focused his
attention on the task at hand. He took a deep breath, as though
drawing his strength, and then lifted the hammer and struck.
"AGH!" he shouted as he again hit his thumb, and this time Zidane
rocked back, unable to contain his mirth. Kuja tossed the hammer in
the dirt and dropped to the ground with an audible thump, another
quick breath stirring his hair back into his face as he stared
morosely at the unfinished repairs.
"Let me see," Zidane said, trying to control his laughter as he
scooted over and crouched in front of the older man.
"No," Kuja groused, sharply pulling his hand away from Zidane's
questing fingers.
"You're such a baby!" Zidane said with a chuckle, reaching out
again. "C'mon, let me see."
"No. Focus on your own work," Kuja said almost petulantly, pointedly
picking up his own hammer again.
Zidane watched him for a moment, still smiling, and then shook his
head, again brushing his hair away from where it stuck to the sweaty
skin of his forehead. He moved a little closer to the wall, picking
up a nail.
"Here, look," he said gently, holding up the nail and then
demonstrating how to position it against the wood. "Look, if you hold
it like this, you're less likely to hit your own hand when you hammer
it in. That's the first thing. The second is that you should be
focusing on hitting the head of the nail. Stop worrying so much about
where the nail is going, and just focus on hitting the nail on the
head. It'll come together from there."
Kuja eyed him suspiciously, which only made Zidane laugh again.
"Trust me," he said, holding out the nail. Kuja continued to stare at
him with narrowed eyes for a moment, and then he reached out,
snatched the nail, and shuffled forward, on his knees, to the wall.
Zidane settled back on his heels to watch, rubbing his sweaty palms
on his thighs.
Kuja puffed out another quick breath, this time unsettling the
feather that had been drooping down towards his eyes. He focused on
the nail, brow furrowed slightly as he concentrated on positioning
the nail as he had been shown. Then, bringing up the hammer, he
gripped it carefully and tried to do as Zidane said, thinking only of
hitting the nail's head.
He almost winced as the hammer came down, and then blinked in
surprise when he hit the nail perfectly on the head, driving it into
the wood a bit. It was the first time he had truly managed to do it
with any neatness. He had spent most of the morning doing other odd
jobs while Zidane had worked on repairing the roof, but when Zidane
had moved on to the walls, Kuja had stubbornly insisted that he would
help whether Zidane wanted him to or not, much to Zidane's
amusement. Since then, he had been futilely trying to hammer in a
single plank.
"See?" Zidane said, smirking slightly and running a hand back through
his hair. "Not bad."
Kuja couldn't help the slight smile that came to his face, and his
tail twitched in pleasure. Then his eyes were drawn again to the pile
of nails at his feet, the number of planks that had yet to be nailed
on, and the length that remained of the nail he had partially
hammered in. His face fell, and he sighed quietly, dropping to the
ground again and curling his legs up campfire style, resting his
elbows on his thighs.
"Hey, come on, you're doing great," Zidane said, seeing his change in
demeanor. "Come on, Kuja."
"Useless," Kuja murmured, closing his eyes and bringing up a hand to
rub his forehead. He cringed and hissed out a noise of pain as he
brushed his sensitive thumb over his skin.
"Oh, come on, don't start that again," Zidane said, sounding
exasperated. He shifted a little closer, though he didn't reach
out. "You're not useless. Come on, you were doing so well, if you
would just..."
"I don't know why I bother," Kuja said quietly, opening his eyes and
meeting Zidane's concerned gaze. His eyes had gone soft and dead
again, his expression solemn and somewhat pained. Zidane's face
pinched with disappointment on seeing this. "What's the point?"
"Don't do this to me," Zidane said softly. "We've been over this.
You..."
"I can't help it," Kuja interrupted him, eyes flaring briefly with
annoyance.
"You *can* help it. Jeez!" Zidane said sharply, and then he forced
himself to calm down when he saw the belligerent look in Kuja's
eyes. "Look...come on, come inside. We need a break."
"But the storm..." Kuja protested, lifting a hand to gesture to the
volatile sky.
"We need a break," Zidane gritted, getting to his feet. His tail was
moving swiftly from side to side in his agitation. "Come on, come
with me."
Kuja gave him another stubborn frown, but got to his feet, helplessly
trying to brush some of the sand off his pants before he followed
Zidane inside the house.
"Hey Zidane," Morrison said with subdued cheerfulness as the two of
them entered the kitchen. The moogle smiled at Zidane, pointedly
avoiding looking at Kuja. "I made you some lemonade."
"That's great, Morrison," Zidane said, forcing himself to smile as he
walked over to the counter, reaching out to lightly tousle the soft
fur on the moogle's head. "Just what we need, thanks."
Morrison sputtered silently for a moment, quickly trying to rearrange
his fur, which only made Zidane smirk.
"Hey Chimomo," Zidane called as he poured out two glasses of
lemonade. "How's the fishing tonight?"
"Pretty darned rotten," Chimomo called back cheerfully, through the
open window. "Kupo...I can't say I hold out much hope for a nice supper
tonight."
"Roots again?" Morrison said with a sigh. "I hate roots."
"Damn, that's good lemonade, Morrison," Zidane said with a grin as he
took a long swig, then passed the second glass to Kuja, who accepted
it wordlessly and retreated to a corner, attempting to be
unobtrusive. "Hey, where's Momatose?"
"Comatose in the living room," Morrison said sarcastically, and they
heard the sound of Chimomo's delighted laughter in response to the
rhyme.
"Could you wake him up and take over for us outside for a while? I'm
sure you guys could get some of those planks hammered in, right?"
Zidane suggested, lifting both eyebrows in gentle challenge.
"What are you talking about?" Morrison answered, puffing up his
chest, wings fluttering in agitation. "Of course we can! Kupo! We've
survived here for a long time without you..."
"Hey Morrison," Chimomo said, floating in through the window and
setting his fishing pole in its usual corner. "Before you stick your
foot any further into your mouth, I think the idea was that we get
out of here and leave Zidane and Kuja alone for a while...?"
"Oh," Morrison said, cheeks turning pink and the bob on top of his
head drooping slightly. "Sorry about that, Zidane."
Zidane just snorted softly and nodded.
"That's okay, Morrison. See ya, guys."
With that, the moogles fluttered out of the kitchen into the living
room, chatting quietly to each other. A moment later, Zidane and Kuja
heard a sharp yell.
"Eh, now what the hell!?"
"Wake up, idiot! We're on repair duty."
"Wha...? Oh, all right."
Zidane chuckled into his glass and waited for the sound of the door
slamming before he finally lifted his eyes. Kuja was still standing
in the corner, staring into his glass of lemonade, his thoughts
obviously far away.
"Hey," Zidane said gently, and when he received no response he lifted
a hand and waved. "Hey, Gaia to Kuja!"
Kuja started slightly, almost spilling his lemonade, and hesitantly
met Zidane's eyes.
"You with me?" Zidane asked softly, quirking one eyebrow.
Kuja nodded slowly and then turned away, sighing quietly.
"Will you let me see now?" Zidane asked, putting aside his lemonade
and stepping closer. Kuja glanced back, brow furrowed in mild
consternation, but he finally nodded and held out his hand. Zidane
took it gently and examined the swollen thumb. "Damn, that looks
painful."
"It is," Kuja said a bit crossly as Zidane's thumb brushed over his,
making him wince.
"Sorry," Zidane said with a quick flash of a smile. "I have something
for that..."
He turned away, moving over to the corner where he kept his pack. He
bent to rummage through it, coming up a moment later with a small jar.
"Here, rub some of that on there," he said, holding it out. Kuja took
it with some measure of hesitance, eyeing it uneasily.
"Is this different from what you've been giving me for my other
wounds?" he asked quietly. For days Zidane had been inundating him
with ointments and creams to help the various aches and pains he had
developed during his ordeals in the Crystal World and the Iifa Tree.
"Yeah, it'll just take the sting away," Zidane said, and then he
shrugged and smiled. "If I'd thought of it, I'd've asked Morrison for
a potion. Cheap bastard always demands I pay him, though. I'm running
up one hell of a tab, I'm telling you."
Kuja didn't even crack a smile; as usual, he was focused with
disturbing single-mindedness on the task he'd been given: rubbing
some of the ointment into the swollen pad of his thumb. He hissed
with pain, gritting his teeth as he finished and handed the jar back
to Zidane. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and Kuja quickly
snatched back his hand, turning away.
"Hey," Zidane said quietly, stepping closer again. He stopped his
approach when he saw Kuja flinch. "Come on, Kuja..."
"Why are you doing this?" Kuja said, and Zidane was just close enough
to see him close his eyes, trying to hide the strength of his
emotion. "Why are you helping me?"
"I've told you that a million times," Zidane said, scratching his
head and frowning. Kuja opened his eyes and turned to regard Zidane
with startling solemnity, his eyes filled with a deep pain that made
Zidane's heart cry out. Zidane's expression softened. "But I guess I
can say it a million more, if that's what it'll take."
He sighed softly and dropped to sit in the nearest chair, shoving his
tail out of the way.
"I'm doing this `cause I figure you deserve a second chance. And I'm
willing to give that to you," Zidane said with a slight shrug, and
then he grinned gently. "Guess that's the brotherly thing to do."
"After all that I've done?" Kuja said quietly, both eyebrows raised.
His arms were crossed almost defensively over his chest, the slight
twitch of the end of his tail revealing his nervousness.
"Yeah, after everything you've done," Zidane said, smirking a bit and
lifting an eyebrow. "That's why it's called a second chance, Kuja."
Kuja sighed quietly and dropped his chin to rest against his chest,
and Zidane frowned again, then let out a sigh of his own as he got
wearily to his feet.
"I'll go see how the moogles are doing," he said somewhat morosely,
feet shuffling against the floor as he started towards the door.
"Zidane," Kuja said softly, and Zidane stopped in his tracks,
turning, surprised at the tone of Kuja's voice. His surprise only
grew when he saw the way Kuja's eyes shimmered as he looked at
him. "Thank you."
For a moment they just stared at each other, but then Zidane let out
a quick breath and walked up to Kuja, ignoring the confusion that
crossed over the older man's face as he lifted a trembling hand and
lightly brushed his knuckles along Kuja's jaw. Kuja gasped, startled,
his own hand coming up to grip Zidane's.
"What are you doing?" Kuja whispered a bit harshly, and for a moment
Zidane was at a loss, blinking as he tried to come up with some
answer.
What *was* he doing?
*****
Did you come here lamenting what you missed
Overcome and seduced by this
The beautiful abyss
What did you come here to see
What are you trying to be
You're like a shadow that swallows life
Now you're crawling over me
*****
END PART ONE