PERSISTENCE OF MEMORY (Part Five)

The end of the line. The last part. This final part seems a little short, mostly because I cut a lengthy scene from it in which Fratley and Amarant argue (it seemed too melodramatic) and I decided that I didn’t want this story to be as bleak as I had originally intended. I can't just make Fratley be a jerk. He is a nice guy ... I just don't like him.

Happy reading!

By Kate

Amarant woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and only vague notions of what had happened the night before. But, as wakefulness flowed into him, he remembered what had gone on. Freya, crying, himself, talking to her … and …

He’d almost kissed her.

His eyes flew open and he sat up in his bed. He had to resolve this … now! His mind raced. He had to talk to her … and then he had to get the hell out of Alexandria

He dressed quickly and ran out his door. Freya was standing right outside, leaning against the balcony.

Amarant halted. "Were you … waiting for me?"

"I was," she said.

He walked up to her stiffly, his mind numb and cold. "I have something to say to you, Freya," Amarant said.

"Yes." Her voice was a monotone.

"I apologize for what happened last night."

"There is no need," she said dully. "I was upset and you comforted me."

"Why are you out here?" Amarant felt strange. All of a sudden, he felt weary, wearier than he’d ever been.

Freya leaned more against the balcony, tilted backwards. "I only came to tell you that I am leaving today. I am moving back to Burmecia. I am able to help Fratley there … and maybe I can start the reconstruction."

Amarant nodded. "Perhaps I will see you – but I am going northward."

"You’re leaving … too?"

"Yeah."

"Where are you going?"

He shrugged, the light motion betraying him. "I don’t know. Back to Madain Sari, Conde Petie. The area that is my home. Remember, Freya, I did not even intend to stay in Alexandria in the first place."

"Oh."

"I’ll be leaving now."

He was about to leave when she closed her eyes and clenched her fists. "Wait," she commanded. The single word echoed through the high room. She kicked a bit of dust into the fireplace, her back still to him. "Wait," she repeated.

"What?"

"A favor?"

"What?"

"You owe me a favor," she reminded him gently. "Treno, remember? The card game that you lost?"

Amarant nodded.

Freya stood silent for a moment, then she turned around and looked at him. He was struck at how small she suddenly looked, as if the aura of command that had always heightened her had suddenly dissipated.

Then she made up her mind. "Kiss me, Amarant. You wanted to do it, both you and I know that, so do it."

He paused. "What if someone sees us?"

"Let them."

For a long while, he said nothing. His hand had fallen carelessly to his sides, as if he’d forgotten that they were attached to his body, that they even existed. He would not look her in the face. He couldn’t, or else he would do what she asked and damn himself in the process. He would not do that; he would not allow himself to do it. His lips moved indecisively, then he spoke.

"No."

"What?"

"No. I can’t. You love Fratley."

Freya nodded. "I can’t deny that, but, Amarant…"

"No. I’ll not do it." He smiled suddenly; she was shocked to see the expression on his face. Amarant was actually smiling – grinning!

"Tell you what," he said, extending a hand. "When you have rebuilt Burmecia, when the castle is new again and your people have moved back in and you are the defender of the city, then I will come and congratulate you and visit the castle, meet your king and meet your own children, Freya. That will be my favor to you."

"Amarant …?"

It was all he could give. "Freya."

Freya stared at him uncertainly for a moment, then a strange, singular light crept into her eyes, a light that hadn’t shone there for months, even years. She smiled, and shook his hand. "All right."

Amarant let his hand fall, slowly.

"All right."

"Hey, Amarant?" Freya ventured.

"Yes?"

She clapped him on the back in a comradely gesture. "You’ll always be one of my closest friends."

Then she went out, outside to the very end of Alexandria, where a new journey would begin, where she would be able to renew, rebuild. Where she could conjure up an empire from its ashes, where life and hope sprang forever.

Where Fratley was waiting.

There was still much to do. She had to work with Fratley, encourage him, be patient with him – and she had to be patient with Burmecia as well, as she cultivated it back into what it had been. But none of seemed insurmountable now, it seemed much different – even promising – and Freya smiled to herself as she left.

It was a beginning.

* * *

Amarant, gazing out the window, watched her go. He did not feel as he thought he would, which was desolate. Instead, though his stomach did hurt a bit and his eyes stung a little, he actually felt good for her.

"And you’ll always be one of mine," he said quietly.

He turned around and folded his arms, thinking. He would go to Madain Sari and visit his friend Lani, then maybe travel around for a while, treasure-hunting, making money.

And then he’d go to Burmecia.

THE END

So … what did you think? I quite liked this story and I enjoyed writing it. I have a compulsion to lean towards tragic love in any set of lovers I write about, whether they are my own characters or someone else’s. Sorry to anyone who was disappointed by the lack of absolute romance.

I tend to look at this as more of a character piece than anything else, about two characters who both find renewal through helping each other. Kind of a Hallmark sentiment, I know, but fanfic isn’t Shakespeare.

There will be no sequel to this, at least not from me. Sorry! If anyone wants to expand on what happens after Freya and Amarant both leave Alexandria, go right ahead. I’ve had people write expansions on my work before, and they always turn out good. Sometimes even better than the original!

On a side note: I need a beta reader for an original novel I’m working on. I prefer my beta readers to be writers themselves, and I need them not only to edit, but to provide commentary and ask questions and give criticisms. I need honest, meticulous, skilled people. The novel itself is quite darker than my fan fiction, but if you like my stories, you will probably like it. If you’re interested, e-mail me at celes82@hotmail.com.

That’s all, people! I am writing some other stories, FF9 ones among them, so look for more to come from me!