Your Paradise is not for me ~ by Nicole

  *Disclaimer - I do not own Final Fantasy IX

The empty heart of darkness surrounded him in its icy waves of cold, engulfed his slender body until he was left blind, deaf, and dumb as a newborn child. Lying in the black pit he felt alone, weak. But he was not terrified of his fate. He was meant to die alone. Yes, the darkness will kill him soon so what was the point in allowing fear to spread throughout his body like contagious wildfire? For all the horrifying things he did during his short reign of bloodthirsty abhorrence the darkness should have killed him anyway.

He deserved it through and though-deserved to die in the isolated heart of darkness. The shadows of death had finally revealed themselves to Kuja with the absence of holy light and they offered to cover his pale, wounded body with their freezing black clocks. He wouldn’t deny their gentle advances just as long as they came.  He almost welcomed his death at last. He had fought and had lost control over his own trance, the frightening trance which was powered by his own madness and jealousy, the same once which had destroyed a large part of Terra, his birthplace.

            Kuja sighed quietly, closed his tired violet eyes, and anxiously waited for his heart to stop beating and his breath cease to invade his lungs. The injuries he had obtained from the battle no longer throbbed with pain or oozed with the red blood of mortals. His body no longer hurt. He rested in an invisible cloud of numbness, felt nothing of pain or anything expect for the frigid rock he laid upon that pressed against the bare patch of skin that was exposed on his back. Prepared he was yet Death still did not come. The shadows were much slower than he had expected.

            Kuja frowned in anticipation. He was going to die. Sooner or later the shadows and the dark will get him and rob his body of his weary soul. He didn’t need to be eaten away with anxiety. He couldn’t run from the truth any longer. He was mortal and he will die soon. Fate would not lie to him.

            They were all so brave, Kuja thought with wonder. So powerful. They were so courageous in trying to stand up against the power of the Trance. They were not afraid. In their eyes I no longer could see their dismay, their hesitation. Brother, Princess, Vivi, Ekio. You were all so brave, so strong. You hated me but you had very good reasons to. Princess, I was the murderer of your mother. Ekio, I destroyed your only home. Vivi, I used and manipulated your inculpable people in war, made them mindless puppets to bid to my every will when the battles called. Zidane, Brother, I was so jealous that you were the perfect one Garland had formed that I wanted you dead. I’m sorry for what I did to you all. But I know that it was your hatred for me that fused all your energy and strength to bring me down. I have to thank you for that and I have to say that I still love you. You all were so wonderful in battle. You have made me proud and I’m glad that Fate has brought us all together, even though the price was innocent bloodshed.

            Lying on the cold motionless rock in the darkness, Kuja was now prepared to pass away, to finally die. He was now ready to die, His final good-byes to his friends he loved were over and now he had no reason left to live, to hang onto his miserable life. What would happen to him in the next world, he was unsure. Did such an angel belong in heaven? Did such a demon belong in Hell? Which one would claim him? He didn’t want to think about it. For the first time in his life he knew what it meant to live. Knew how happiness and sadness worked. Knew how tears fell and why they did and how laughter could lift his soul to the heavens. Knew the pain that walked hand-in-hand with good-byes. He wasn’t afraid to die now, only a little sad. He was sad to leave them all behind. He didn’t want to depart from them and it hurt him so to know that he would soon. He loved them all so. But he knew that Death would come for him and he would not refuse. His heart would stop, his breath cease, the coldness would conquer his body.

            But still lying prone in the breast of darkness, Kuja felt something he least would have expected, something no shadow of death was possibly capable of. Warmth.

            Opening his eyes as though waking up from a dream Kuja slowly looked around before finally seeing the body of his young brother sparled across his chest. Zidane’s eyes were closed while an unfamiliar look of pain was etched into his pale face.

            Kuja stared at him in exhausted confusion; his mind still clouded by the sleep, before lifting a numb hand to try to wake Zidane gently.

            Was he dead? No, that was impossible.

            “Zidane?” he asked, his voice a little harsh.

            For a moment the other refused to stir but then he groaned softly and slowly opened his large blue eyes. When he saw the bewildered face of Kuja there was a little smile etched onto his wide mouth.

            “Hey,” Zidane murmured. He sounded tired.

            “You stayed with me,” Kuja accused. “Why?”

            “I couldn’t leave you,” the other replied, a spark of light in his eyes. “It isn’t in my nature.”

            Kuja didn’t share the same light-hearted smile. Instead he was furious. “You still had time to leave.”

            “Not anymore,” Zidane told him. “It’s impossible to get pass these wild roots until they settle down.”

            Kuja frowned at his brother. “You’re crazy.”

            Zidane only shrugged and smiled. “Maybe.”

            “Definitely…What about the others?”

            “They on their way home right now.”

            “Are they safe?”

            “Yeap.”         

            At this Kuja relaxed a little, the tension leaving his heart and body for the swift moment. He laid his head back down on the rock and closed his wary eyes. Zidane stayed were he was without saying anything as their silence ate away at the atmosphere. Kuja felt his brother rest his golden head against his chest. He couldn’t help but notice how frail Zidane was when he opened his eyes for a moment to gaze down at the younger one. Was the little one so worn after the battle? Was the fight too much for him?

Then Kuja saw one of Zidane's hands covering his heart. A silvery glow escaped from the cold palm pressed lightly against his chest. He cocked his head to the side as he felt the light enter him and force his heart to a normal beat.

            “Are you keeping me alive?” he asked, unbelievable as he almost heard their hearts beat as one.

            “Yeah.” Zidane did not raise his eyes to look at his bewildered brother.

            “Why?”

            The other finally opened his eyes and smiled widely. “Because I don’t want you to die like this. And don’t sound so surprised. You would probably do the same thing if I were in your shoes and you in mine.”

            “Sorry,” Kuja replied. “I just haven’t had someone care for me before. It’s been a while. It’s hard to believe you are looking out for me after all that has happened.”

            Zidane shrugged and closed his eyes once more. “I couldn’t let my brother die…Kuja?”

            “What?” he questioned. His voice was tight, strained.

            “I don’t think I can move. Can we stay like this for a while?”

            “Yes,” Kuja replied. He carefully wrapped his slender arms around his brother, feeling how cold he really was, and held on tight.

            “Kuja?” Zidane’s unusually quiet voice came out of the darkness once more.

            Kuja obediently opened his eyes at the sound of his name and asked, “What is it?” Since the darkness was so thick he could not see his brother. Instead he had to really on the sense of his touch to know that Zidane was lying helpless in his arms.

            “How are you feeling?”

            “Fine. Why do you ask, Zidane?”

            “Will you be all right if I stop now? I don’t know how much more energy I can give you before I pass out.”

Kuja raised his hand and seized the one covering his heart. He held it tight and harshly scolded, “It was a stupid idea to begin with, Brother.”

            A small laugh filled the air. “A simple thank you would be more suitable, Kuja,” Zidane quipped softly.

            “Why would I want to thank you for risking your own life for mine?” Kuja shot back, angry.

              “Ouch that hurt.”

            “I just think you are a stupid fool.”

            “Are you trying to make me cry?”

            Kuja rolled his eyes. He knew his brother was laughing at him and grabbed a lock of his golden hair and pulled it gently.

            “Hey!” Zidane hissed. “That hurt!”

            “I’m being serious, Zidane!” kuja told him. “I deserved to die.”

            “Well you can’t undo it, buddy. So I guess you have to live with it,” his brother snapped back, testy and frustrated. “Stop complaining for once. You’re alive. You don’t see the chance of your life if it came up and slammed you.”

            “To be alive again? Ha! I’d rather die a thousand deaths than to have my heart beat within my body.”

            “You’re so weird, Kuja,” Zidane murmured. “I don’t get you at all.”

            Kuja sighed. “Well maybe I am, Brother. I have led a long and sad life.”

            “Still that is no reason to want to die alone in this place. Being alive is the most wonderful thing I can think of. Maybe you just missed that.”

            “I doubt it.”

            He heard Zidane yawn and softly sighed. “If you’re tired, try to get some sleep. We will talk later.”

            “Oh goody.”

            Kuja rolled his eyes to the dark heavens. “Quiet, Brother.”

When the habitually mouthy Zidane didn’t reply, he looked down and smiled gently at what he saw. His poor brother was already fast asleep and looking as peaceful as a baby. Kuja sighed and kissed Zidane’s pale brow before settling back onto the hard rock. He too closed his eyes but he knew that sleep would not come so swiftly for him. Death was denied to him. What makes sleep any different? He listened to Zidane’s quiet breathing and sighed heavily. He slept without a care and for that Kuja was jealous. When was the last time he had ever slept like a well-fed child?

            “Maybe I am just scared to live, brother,” Kuja spoke softly, crystal tears filling his eyes. “Scared of the emotions, of pain and happiness. I think once is fine. I don’t know how to live anymore.”

            Kuja exhaled deeply and shifted Zidane until he was lying more comfortably against him.

            “I have a sad story to tell you, brother. A story I had learned long ago. Will you listen to the tale I have to say? The story has been burnt into my skull like fire.”

            Only silence answered the divine voice of the shadows. If Zidane wasn’t able to listen, the black shadows would. Kuja lowered his weary eyes for a moment before closing them permanently, causing the tears of his eyes to roll down his pale face, into his silver hair. He made no movement to wipe them away as he held onto Zidane, shielding him from the darkness and the cold it brought.

            “A long time ago there was a boy. A boy with no past and no future. He was expected to be a puppet but he didn’t wish to be a foolish doll to be used and then tossed away when his turn was up. So he broke the mold and did as he pleased with his god-like power-but that was only after he had eliminated countless cites for their precious souls. For years he thought he was invincible and that no one could get to him let alone kill him. All things they stood in his way were easily destroyed-even his young brother was a threat to his power so he had him thrown away in a distant land where he remained. Then the devastating news came-he was mortal. He could be killed. When he found this out all he knew crumbled like dirt to his feet and he went crazed with grief and desperation. In his insanity he nearly killed himself. He might be called a demon but know this, he never wanted it to end this way. He should have died the moment he was forced to live.”

When he was finished with his rueful there were tears falling silently from dark lashes with all the more vigor.  Kuja closed his eyes and said nothing for there were no words to say that could fill the tragic void that surrounded him on all sides. He had killed many people for his bloodthirsty quest for innocent souls. Now his life was once again his but he didn’t want it. His place was in Hell with Garland.

            “You’re wrong.”

            Kuja forced open his eyes and stared down into the naïve face of his brother. The little punk wasn’t asleep after all.

            “What did you say?”

            Zidane shifted a little and replied, “I said that you were wrong. Confused. Mistaken.”

            Kuja scoffed. “You don’t know what were talking about,” he hissed.

            “I think I do.”

            “Shut up. I thought you were sleeping.”

            Zidane smiled a little. “That’s why they call me an actor.”

            Kuja rolled his eyes before settling back on the rock. He felt a little uneasy, as if he had been exposed. He felt drained and stared intently up into the darkness, determined not to reveal his inner quandary. The darkness intrigued him suddenly. He can’t look at anything else. The beautiful darkness, the loving darkness that caressed his flesh and stroked his wounds. It came unknowing and uncaring who he was. Would this be his grave?

            A cold half-smile played with his pale lips. “Have you ever been afraid of the dark, Zidane?” he asked. His voice was soft. “I’m not now but probably was when I was made. Like a little child I was terrified of my own existence, begging someone to kill me, daring him or her to over and over. But they didn’t have the courage to do it and left me to live. Left me to be a puppet. It was dark there but in the dark I could hide. It was an escape for me. I think I dreamed a  little. But what did I know of dreams? I only saw death and blood and the horrible loneness I had to carry with me. I didn't want to dream anymore after that. Nightmares are a formidable thing. I just wanted everything to stop. I wanted to die, I was so scared, so I invited anyone to do it. Hilda, Ekio, Dagger,…you. I drove you to anger, drove you to find vengeance in holding a blade to my heart-”

            “Stop it!” Zidane was shaking with anger. He pushed away from Kuja and sat up, his blue eyes flashing brightly with fury. “Stop it now, Kuja! I can’t listen to you anymore! I can’t listen to you talk about how worthless your life is and how you want to die. I can’t take it! Life is so precious! Why can’t you see that?” He started to cry now and his voice became unstable. “We all want you to live. Dagger, Ekio, Vivi…we-we can’t hate you. I can’t hate you because you are my brother and I know that deep down inside of you I know that you are good. I want you to live-to come back with me. I know you’ll love it if you just open your heart.”

            Kuja openly glared at his brother and quickly sat up. “Don’t you dare talk to me about living, Zidane. Can’t you see this is not reality? This can’t be! We weren’t suppose to live like this. We were suppose to be puppets! Puppets for Garland to destroy the earth and all she holds! Everything you have-all the emotions you feel-are not real! You aren’t real, Zidane! Neither am I! Or Mikoto or Vivi! We are nothing but mindless dolls! And you’re just as lost and confused as  I am.”

            A sudden slap across the face sent Kuja into shock. His face turned side ways because of the unexpected blow and he quickly placed a hand over his burning cheek. Wide-eyed he turned back to stare at his brother. Zidane looked at him, breathing hard and teeth bared in anger. In a stupor Kuja looked away, dumb with surprised. Had is own brother hit him? That notion sounded all too ridiculous. But in fact that was the truth.

            “Why?” he asked.

            “Someone needed to knock some sense into you,” Zidane replied, taking several deep breaths of the cool air. “Luckily I was the closet one around. Now hit me.”

            “What?” Kuja couldn’t keep the bewildered shock from his voice.

            “Hit me.”

            “Why?”

            “Just do it, Kuja.”

            “…All right,” he said after a moment.

            Before Zidane realized it Kuja had quickly sprung up off the ground and quickly kicked him once in his legs, to get them out from underneath him, and again hard in his shoulder. Zidane was lying flat on his back in a matter of seconds.  Kuja did it so quickly that his brother didn’t even see it coming. Stunned, Zidane remained paralyzed on the rough ground, his blue eyes blank for a moment. Then he shut his eyes and groaned.

            “That was a cheap shot, Kuja.”

            Kuja smiled. “You did specify on where and how I hit you.”

            “Smart ass,” the other murmured. Wincing in pain and effort Zidane managed to pull his aching body into a sitting position, his golden tail twitching irritably next to him. “Where in the world did you move like that? I didn’t even see you?”

            Kuja shrugged. “Even though Garland was a bad father he did have time to teach me some skills of his. So what was the point of this? To prove that you really are as dense as you look?”

            “No,” Zidane said quickly. “Just an experiment. Throughout your entire life you have dwelt in pain when life threw some nasty troubles your way-represented in my slapping you. But you never allowed yourself to fight back-represented by you coming back and plowing me into the ground. Since you never did that you never experience the joy that follows beating fate. Get it?”

            “Not really,” Kuja murmured. “But I get the you’re saying…I think.”

            Zidane frowned. “I never was a good teacher.”

            Kuja tried to hide his smile. “Everyone has their weak points. Yours just happens to be teaching.”

            “Well maybe you are just too dense to understand my superior ways of knowledge.”

            Kuja rolled his eyes and laughed. The sound was wonderful and for a moment filled the dark pit with a hopeful light that would not be suppressed.

            “You’re hopeless, Zidane,” he said.

            His brother shook his head. “I haven’t given up on life so technically I haven’t given up hope just yet, Kuja.”

            “And I have?” he asked, cocking a thin eyebrow.

            “Yep.”

            He sighed, his eyes sad and downcast. “I suppose I have. But who cares if I have? There will probably be a celebration throughout the world when the greatest devil of all dies. Why should I deny them their one happiness?”

            Zidane looked at Kuja for a long lingering moment. Then he shook his head and murmured, “Still as sarcastic as ever. But just to let you know, I care-we all do. They may not know it just yet, they want you to live too.”

            “I tried to kill you.”

            “You are the only family I have.”

            “You have the others to be your family. What will they think when they hear what you’ve just said? They’ll think they don’t matter at all to you. They’re a better family than the one I can’t offer you.”

            Zidane’s face flushed for a moment. “They are my friends, yes. In some ways they are just like me. But in other times, it’s different. They all know who they are. Even Ruby and Baku do. I don’t. I don’t have anyone who is more like me than you are.”

            Kuja wanted to snicker. “You don’t need me. You have Mikoto to tell you who you are.”

            “But you’re my brother.”

            Kuja raised his hand. “Don’t remind of whom I am, Zidane,” he warned. “I can’t live with who I am. But you and Mikoto can. That is what separates us. Now let me die.”

            Zidane frowned. “Why are you always so dense? Jeez what do I have to do to get you to live? Drag your sorry ass out of here on my own? Because I will, Kuja.”

            Kuja turned away and smiled. “I’d like to see that.”

            “Don’t try me.”

            “Oh, I am so scared. Not!”

            Zidane grinned, a little chuckle escaping his lips. But after a moment the smile was gone. His eyes looked directly upwards to contemplate their situation. It only to a second for him to register that their predicament wasn’t good.

            “If we stay he there is no food; no water. We will be dead in less then a week,” he told Kuja.

            “We?”

            Zidane nodded. “Yep. I’m staying with you. It’s your choice on what we do from now on. I won’t force you from your decision to stay here and die.”

            “You can’t do that!” Kuja replied, starting to panic. “You can’t let me be the one that holds you back from the life you have in this world! That’s unfair. You have to get out of this. What would Garnet say if you died here with me?”

            Zidane shrugged, not meeting Kuja’s blazing eyes.    

            “You’re crazy!” he said after a moment when’s his brother’s silence was all that filled the air.

            “Maybe.”

            Kuja glared at him. Suddenly hating him-loathing him for his amicable nature. He pushed Zidane back with the palm of his hand. Hit him hard, pulling all his anger and frustration into the blow. His brother didn’t even flinch from the clout, didn’t even cry out in pain when his already beaten back collided with the uneven ground.

            “Leave!”

            Zidane refused to move. Kuja frowned and glared at his, his white teeth bared in animosity. Staggering, he climbed to his feet, his silky skirt swaying at his heels. He advanced dangerously upon his immobile brother. If his brother wouldn’t leave on his own free will, Kuja would force him too.

            “Leave!”

            When Zidane didn’t obey, Kuja slammed the tip of his toes into his side. Once. Twice. Three times. Still Zidane did not do one thing to protect himself from the brutal and painful bombardment of various kicks. Discouraged that his tactics were unavailing but somewhat empowered by the challenge, Kuja stopped and stared down at his brother, disgusted and breathing heavily.

            “Leave!” he cried again.

            “No!”

            Kuja frowned and grabbed the front of Zidane’s vest. He could see the younger grimace slightly but that was all. Zidane allowed himself to hang there lifeless as a doll. With a mighty lift, Kuja threw his brother’s light body halfway across the dark pit.

“Leave, damn you!” he cried even louder.

Through the blackness Kuja saw Zidane lying on his stomach. His face was buried in his ensanguined arms. He saw his back rise and slowly fall with his breath but still he refused to move, to leave, when it was the only right choice for him to take. He must have been hurt though. The flesh on his arms had been violently ripped open to form gory wounds by crashing into the rocky look and his clothes were rugged and dirty with the pit’s soiled floor. Kuja sneered at him; he wouldn’t stop until Zidane left.

He saw Zidane made a weak attempt to pick himself up but Kuja quickly ran over to Zidane and kicked his chin as hard as he could, sending his brother flying further across the dismal pit. Without pity he watched his vicious landing, not even flinching at the painful site.

“Leave!” Kuja roared at the motionless figure of his brother.

Still Zidane moved. If his unexpected blows had hurt him Kuja couldn’t tell and at that moment he didn’t care. He had to make him leave and if it came down to violence then so be it. Zidane couldn’t stay here. Kuja wouldn’t allow such a pathetic wasting of life. Of Zidane’s life.

Breathing heavily, Kuja loomed over Zidane’s broken body lying prone on the rugged ground. Once again he had landed on his stomach, one wounded leg bent at the knee and raised while the other remained straight. Tiny streams of red blood leaked from the wounds his tender skin had obtained on his bare arms and hands, a bloody patchwork of innumerable cuts running up and down his exposed skin. But his face remained hidden from view so Kuja couldn’t tell if the extent of his beating led to the unconsciousness of his brother.

Kuja refused to let up now. He grabbed the back of Zidane’s vest again and held him up, arm length until his feet hovered above the ground. He held like this and didn’t let go. Kuja glared at him bother, teeth bared in red-hot anger, but Zidane appeared to be in a peaceful sleep, his large blue eyes so filled with life were closed.

“Why do you want me to do this?” Kuja hissed at his brother. “Do you want to die here-in a place like this?”

Slowly Zidane opened his eyes. A bright smile appeared on his lips after a moment. “That’s it. Let all your anger out.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kuja snapped. “Do you want to die? Why did you do this?” Tears were quickly filling his eyes but he refused to blink them back. “Why won’t you leave me? What have I done to deserve such loyalty or kindness…Why won’t you leave?” He murmured once more before lowering his head, pressing his forehead softly against Zidane’s chest.

He closed his eyes and, as if he were losing strength, slowly started to lower both of then until the ground when a gentle hand in his shoulder stopped him. Kuja looked up and promptly looked away, a piercing light blinding his eyes. But all so soon the light enveloped both of them and Kuja was finally able to look at Zidane. His brother had gone into his trance, red fur replacing pale flesh, pure steel-like muscles replacing impotent human ones in a spilt second. Kuja stared at him with a look of wonder before he noticed that he too had shared in the trancing of their bodies.

“Zidane…” he whispered softly.

Zidane grinned at him, a dazzling smile as he placed his other hand on Kuja’s shoulder. Kuja was vaguely away that they were levitating above the ground now. Zidane was so beautiful, truly the only angel that ought to fulfill Garland’s desires. Not the angel of death however but the one that could bring Apollo himself to his knees in wonder and awe. Kuja himself had the urge to weep at such an angelic figure but instead rose up and kissed Zidane’s mouth, pressing his lips against his for only a moment. If Zidane had been appalled or shocked by this, he did good to hide it. After a moment, Kuja pulled away from the delicate kiss.

“Let’s show Garland the true power of his children, Kuja,” Zidane told him with a grin. “Come home with me-to Alexandria. Let’s forget about our past and look to the future instead.”

Kuja was without words. He continued to stare at his brother with a vacant expression. Home. He liked that word. He never had a home before. Maybe with Zidane he could have a chance to experience it. See what hold it had over Zidane. Maybe doing this he could finally get his revenge on his creature, like a well deserved slap in the face. He liked that too.

He was to overwhelmed to say anything but he nodded. Zidane too beamed in return before wrapping his arms about Kuja’s form more securely. Kuja followed closely behind.

“The Ifia Tree’s roots are thick,” Zidane told him. “We’ll channel our strength together and see if we can break through.”

Kuja raised an eyebrow. “‘Can? Compared to trying to conquer the world, this is a piece of cake for me.”

Zidane laughed a little. “You’re a show-off, Kuja. Now let’s go. I wanna show you Alexandria.”

With that they held on tighter to each other and, in a could of glowing redness, shot right out of the dark pit, through the wild branches, and all the way into the night sky. The wind below against their figures as they continued to float in the sir for a moment, high above the ground of the Earth. All about them were the stars, shining as brilliantly as if they just had been created.

“It’s so beautiful,” Zidane murmured to his brother as he looked about himself. “Gaia…”

Kuja looked too, the stars glimmering in his dark eyes. They were something else, otherworldly. Gaia. A world of endless wonders, of endless possibilities. Kuja looked forward on seeing her again but this time on terms of peace and forgiveness. Gaia, the world that could always wait for a wondering soul and pardon the phantom of death. Kuja wouldn’t have it any other way.

Good-bye, Garland.

~ End ~

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