UnShaekable (FFXII)

Epilogue

~One Month Later~

I've yet to get out of bed, and it's late in the evening. My stomach's crying for food, but I haven't had to energy nor the will to eat in nearly five days. I drink water only when the pain becomes unbearable, but even then, I nearly throw it all up again. Penelo stopped by with fresh flowers and bread earlier; she spoke gingerly as if she was afraid of breaking me. Perhaps she was right to do so. The last time Vaan said that cursed name, he left with a black eye, a bloody nose, and cut that left a nasty scar across his forearm. Groaning, I turn over in my sheets, trying to cool off.

Ashe made sure to provide us all with places to stay for as long as we needed. Vaan and Penelo, of course, rejected her offer. Apparently, they live with that crazed bangaa that came into the tavern demanding that some sky pirates save Penelo. #$%^. That was centuries ago. Two weeks ago, Basch trimmed his hair short and headed to Archadia to act as Gabranth in his brother's place. I know it's all to protect Larsa, but... To play your brother's part for the rest of your days? It sounds like misery. I was supposed to leave with them, but I wasn't deemed well enough, and Basch was convinced that leaving everyone I knew and staying in Archadia, the very place that brought me all my pain, would only make me worse.

But does he have to see the monument of his dead brother every time he gathers enough strength to leave his room? 

The remains of the Bahamut tower outside Rabanastre as some "exciting memory" for the people of Dalmasca. For myself, however, it's a painful reminder that slaps me in the face every time I leave my small apartment atop an armor shop deep into the city. Since the incident with Vaan, I haven't seen him much. Penelo drops by often. Ashe, of course, can't be bothered to see me because of all the details she and Larsa have to iron out. I understand, of course. She's to be queen and I'd rather she not see me in this sorry state anyway. Unable to move, eat, drink, or wash simply over a heart that's been battered too many times to stitch itself back together.

Three times, a fist beats against my door. The knocks are loud and clear, but I don't answer. It's too late for visitors; it's pitch black outside. Three more knocks. I sigh, closing my eyes and praying that they'll leave me be. Unfortunately, this person seems to be the persistent type. Rather than continuing their polite knocks, they beat their fist against the door rapidly, nonstop. Are you joking? I huff, sitting up and throwing my blankets to the side before standing and hobbling to the next room where the front door is. They haven't stopped. Cursing under my breath, I tidy up my hair a touch and throw open the door. My heart stops at the sight of a sheepish smile.

"Hey, Shae. How's it going?" My hand burns after how hard my palm strikes his cheek, leaving behind a bright red mark. He looks shocked, bright blue eyes wide, unsure of my rage. "Well #$%^, okay, thought you'd be happier to see me." He holds up two bottles of madhu. "I brought us a little something."

"... Get inside."

Jonan nods obediently, stepping past me stiffly. Dozens of tight bandages cover his skin, and there are twice as many scars to go with them. He doesn't bend his left knee as he makes his way to the rough-cut wooden table, keeping it straight even when he sits, waiting expectantly. With trembling hands, I close and lock the door. I make my way to the seat across from him slowly, unsure if I've truly lost my mind.

"First of all, I'd like to know what that was for," Jonan starts, flashing a half-hearted smile as the handprint on his face begins to glow an angry bright red.

"I'm... not sure," I reply, carefully taking the glass bottle he offers me. "It was an instinct."

"Weren't expecting to see me?" I shake my head, watching him take a drink. The bottle hits the table with a dull thud and Jonan shrugs, chewing on his cheek. "I wasn't expecting to be here this late. I'm sorry about that."