[Dissidia] Retrospection's Deceit

[beaslays]

Oh, look, fanfic! As usual, unbeta-ed, and this one is even more rushed than usual, but I'm content with it :D

Title: Retrospection's Deceit
Fandom: Dissidia Final Fantasy
Characters: Warrior of Light
Rating: G
Genre: General
Word Count: 1564
Summary: Cosmos promised them that they would return to their worlds. She never promised that they would find peace and happiness in returning.
Notes: WoL-POV. For an explanation, eh, see author notes after the fic.

* * *
The war with Chaos has ended; my comrades have gone home. Looking around, at the lush meadow, I smile.

The city sits in the distance, in the shadow of a castle, tall and proud, its spires reaching up to the sky. Even from where I stand, I can see the many people going about their daily business. Simply from looking and watching, I realize I know that city.

It is Cornelia, the city of dreams.

Home.

For a moment I see before me, each of my comrades walking towards a city of their own, their faces smiling as they, too, walked towards home.

Then, I am alone again, and there, is Cornelia before me. I continue my walk towards it, keeping my gaze on the castle. Yet, with each step I take, the crystal in my hand glows less and less, its light slowly becoming dim.

Nobody stops me as I pass through the city’s gates; the guards do not even glance at me. People pass by me, and they, too, do not spare me a glance.

Not even when the images begin flashing before my eyes and I fall upon my knees. Not a glance, not a single look. No one has time to spare for the strange armored man clutching his head in the middle of the street.

It is when I hear the name that I know is mine that I realize—

My memory—it is coming to me.

There is someone I must meet, something I must see, here in Cornelia. Who, what, I do not know, but these memories, they tell me…

I turn and make my way towards the inn.

* * *
In the war between Chaos and Cosmos, among my comrades, I had been the first to wake.

I remember standing up then, looking around to see my would-be comrades lying in the crystalline water of Cosmos’s lake. Even then I felt a strong sense of connection to them, so I had moved to awaken them.

I remember their confused faces, their cries of help. I remember how they had been at odds first, finding too many differences in their ways of life.

I remember how Firion had the habit of picking up everything he came across, how the Onion Knight tried to act older than everyone, how Cecil had panicked upon seeing the dark armor he wore…

I remember Bartz’s constant curiosity that ever got him in trouble with the others. I remember how Terra had frightened everyone with her tremendous strength and assertiveness. I remember Cloud’s unending silence and his refusal to speak more than necessary.

I remember Squall’s hidden temper, often directed at Bartz. I remember Zidane’s constant chatter. I remember Tidus’s ever-present smile.

And I remember the strength with which we fought together.

These are the memories I still keep, the memories which shall stay forever.

I never remembered my name. I never knew my past beyond the battles against Chaos and Garland. I knew nothing about myself.

These were the memories that somehow escaped me, yet these memories do not matter, for I have the memories I wish to keep.

Those of my comrades, of our strength, of the war. Of the battles against Chaos’s forces. Of finding the crystals. Of ending the war.

But, how real are these memories—are your memories—when all you have ever known belonged to someone else?

How real are your memories when you yourself are a lie?

* * *
The man does not stir in his slumber when I walk into the room. He does not wake either, when I move closer and draw in my breath at the sight of his face.

He is younger, and his face is unmarred by scars of battle. No lines of age adorn the edges of his eyes, and he does not kick or scream in his sleep. Here, is a man, still young and free of the world’s reality. Here is a man who is yet a boy.

He could not be any more different from me, but that face is unmistakable.

The man sleeping peacefully in one of the inn’s upper rooms—

He is none other than me.

* * *
I sit with him as he sleeps, watching his silent form. There is little else I can do but wait, and watch, as he murmurs softly. Names that I do not recognize. Sweet whispers of pleasure.

When he wakes, I watch as he cleans himself and he dresses, just before the door slams open, and I hear my name—his name—being called out by an unfamiliar voice.

A White Mage and a Black Mage crowd at the door, calling for him. He smiles at them, saying their names in turn, and they run to him. They are much smaller than him, as small as children even, and he gathers them up in his arms, holding them tight, laughing and spinning around with them.

I follow them when the mages lead him away, out of the inn and towards Cornelia’s market district. There, he meets up with a gargantuan man, dressed in simple clothes and cheerful in countenance. A Black Belt, and one he is dear friends with.

They enjoy their time together, wandering the streets of Cornelia, playing around with each other. None of them seem to notice though, the young woman who casually follows them, occasionally taking a few coins from those he passes. A Thief, one with her eyes set upon the group I am following, though she eventually disappears from sight.

The man soon stops, and his friends stop too. I venture closer, and I see them entering a small house, set in the shadow of the city’s walls. Following the man, I find myself in a house filled with books and papers of all kinds, and the four friends are there, sitting in a half-circle around an aging Red Mage.

Then the Red Mage looks up and straight at me, a small look of surprise set upon his wrinkled face, before he breaks into a smile.

I sit down on the floor, behind the man who is also me.

* * *
In the future, that man would become he whom I was made to impersonate.

In the future, that man and his friends would set out on a journey like no other.

That man stood before me now, gray eyes wide as he looked around, taking in the empty and white surroundings, before letting his gaze land upon me.

“Am I dreaming?” he asks, and I nod, moving forward to touch his shoulder. He blinks, looking down at my hand, before looking me straight in the eye and placing his own hand upon my shoulder.

“Yes, and no,” I say.

“Who are you?” he says, taking in my appearance. He eyes my armor, tracing the contours and plates and layers of metal with his gaze.

“I am you.”

And without knowing what I was doing, I placed my crystal, still dim, in his hand.

As soon as he takes it, it begins to shine again, and it floats up above us, turning slowly in place, before disappearing in a flash of light.

He begins to ask a question, but I am gone before then.

* * *
As I traverse the white space of reality, I pass by my comrades, and I see them reaching out to their doubles, some questioning their existence, some passing on their crystals as I have, some accepting this terrible truth.

In the end, I come into being again, in a burst of many colors, and I break through the surface of a crystalline lake, gasping for breath as I realize—

I am a man again.

And there, before me, in all her golden beauty and splendor is my Lady.

“You have seen the truth,” she says. It is no question, merely an observation, and not one I can deny, so I nod.

“And what will you do with this truth?” she asks, reaching out to touch my cheek. Her skin is warm, almost burning in its touch.

“I will protect it,” I say, “And ride towards the morrow.”

She smiles, softly, though I see in her eyes of blue a great sadness. “Then go, and worry not. For you are not alone.”

And she is gone in a flash of light, blinding me, and I feel myself being ripped away once more.

* * *
When I next open my eyes, the crystalline lake is gone, and I stand in a lush meadow. The sound of life reaches my ears, as the wind rushes through the nearby forest, as the birds chirp, sing and fly overhead, as a river somewhere crashes over rocks and sweeps against its banks.

There is no city in the distance, only mountains and rolling fields of grass. Villages dot the valley before me, but still, there is no great city.

Then I hear my name—the sound of someone calling me, and I turn.

There are my comrades, racing towards me, waving their hands and shouting my name. Though there is no way for them to know my name, it seems completely natural that they would, and hearing them call my name—

I smile, and begin walking towards them.

* * *
“You would ask me to guide you towards the future?”

“Yes, for there is none whom we trust more so than you.”

“Then let it be so, for our future, our tomorrow, it begins now.”

* * *Author Notes: Uhm, okay, so, this fic is inspired by the theory that the characters in Dissidia aren't really their real selves taken from their actual worlds, but copies of them created with their memories and abilities. This sort of explains Cecil's ability to switch between his classes at will, as well as a few other stuff that might not be possible if they were the actual characters. Whatever the case, I pretty much just ran with it after asking myself "what happens to the copies?"