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She did not know where that strength came from. She didn’t even know why it appeared in the first place. All that man had ever done, ever since she knew of his existence, was kill and massacre and hurt and wound and destroy everything and anything that was on his path; all he did was try to kill her friends and try to kill her and he did not even have a good reason for it, no. No, to him, it was all about the thrill and the emotion of the hunt and the killing and whatever sick satisfaction it gave him in his poor and demented mind.
She should not be using the last drop of energy she had in her body after that insane battle to raise to her feet; to reach out for the portable teleporter; to head, step by agonizing step, towards the limp body a few ilms away. No. She should have stayed still, and waited. Waited for the teleporter to work and allow herself to be taken back to the Ragnarok and be taken care of by her friends, who were safe and sound inside the ship.
She should give him her middle finger, say something amongst the lines of ‘I won’ and be gone with it.
Leave him to die in the edge of the universe, alone.
He deserved it.
He deserved less.
He deserved to die rotting in a cell after being beat up by all the people he had made suffer, for all the families of the people he killed.
He deserved eternal, unending torture.
And yet…
She fell to her knees, unable to go on. The teleporter firm on her hand, she stretched her body the final distance between herself and him, finding his stretched hand and gripping onto it. And when the teleportation activated, she felt him being pulled away and held tighter, exhaustion and pain screaming for her to let go.
She didn’t.
When she appeared in the Ragnarok, the familiar lights surrounding her, she did not have time to look for her friends and assure them she was fine, just tired.
Her body gave out and her eyes closed and she was taken by blissful, painless darkness…
________________________
She woke up.
By some miracle of life (her friends), she woke up, and in considerably less pain than she was when she first passed out.
Alphinaud, G’raha, Y’shtola, Alisaie and Urianger had done their best to heal her while she was under, and after their meaningful conversation, where most of them cried (including her), she took a moment to look out of the starship and see the bright skies of Eorzea once more, now safe from doom. It all seemed well in the land of the living.
But there was an elephant in the room.
“I’m glad you are well, and I do not mean to break this moment of peace… but we do have something to talk about.”
She turned her head towards Thancred and the others, for a moment confused and then washed by the realization of what they were speaking of. Most of them seemed uneasy, and Alisaie was quick to cross her arms and look away.
“We don’t have to talk about anything right now, she just came back from a ruthless battle, we should give her some rest. Besides we don’t know what happened” she said firmly, although the champion could see her confusion and perhaps even betrayed feelings in her eyes. They all seemed unsure of what to say or do next.
“He is… over there” Alphinaud said, seemingly reading her mind and nodding to a back room away from their view. “We did what we could. I mean… we didn’t know if that was what you wanted… but…”
“We couldn’t leave a man wounded to his death, is what he means” Y’shtola added, and when turning to face her, the warrior of light felt unease by her stare. “Even if the majority wished to do so.”
She looked over towards the back room and thought to herself, about how unfair she was being. They were her friends, her true friends, the ones that had stayed with her through thick and thin, that did not deserve to have to choose between killing and saving a man they despised.
And yet, she had thought of no other way.
She did not dare look at them again while taking her leave towards the room on the back. She could not face their judgment, specially now when she still hadn’t figured out what had made her do this. Was he right? Did she crave the hunt, the violence, the hatred? Was she really unable to continue her life as normal without an enemy at her feet, always challenging her, urging her to be better, to do better, to win every time?
Was she a monster like him?
The doors to the back room opened for her and closed by her back, and suddenly she was alone again. The Scions had remained in the main chamber, the Loporrits were driving them home, and the room was silent and dark, no windows, only the faint lights of the walls giving out a blue shadow of light.
He looked awfully small, despite the bed being clearly not his size. His feet were hanging out of the bed, his arms were almost falling off the sides, and he looked simply… odd like this.
She could kill him so easily like this.
Instead she used the few healing powers she had learned in her journey throughout the world to check how he was faring: his heart was beating, faint and slow but there; his breath was gentle, full; his organs were damaged and bruised, but working; no internal or external bleeding. No, he seemed exhausted, that was all. Her friends had done… a marvelous job at keeping him alive despite not wanting to do so.
She couldn’t blame them. And even if they knew the whole story - how he had come to aid her in her moment of need, how he had given her the chance to walk away from their battle, how oddly he had acted when she finally bested him - even then she would still not blame them for wanting to kill him. She wanted to kill him. She killed him. Countless times. In a battle field, and even in her own mind, heart and soul.
Yet when the time came… there she was. The Warrior of Light. The Champion of Eorzea… weak.
She was weak.
Feeling like she had embarrassed herself enough in front of her friends - and knowing she would have to make up a wonderful excuse as to why Zenos was back and not dead and forgotten in the middle of nowhere where he deserved to be - she turned away to return to the main hall and be with her friends, perhaps tell them her thoughts and maybe come to a somewhat relieving conclusion. As she stepped away, however, it was as if she had stepped on a switch.
“ Wait… ”
His voice was faint, dry, like a ghost’s voice calling for the living, and it sent chills down her spine. She reached for her weapon, hand hovering over it, but did not take it out - not yet. She remained still and waited, hearing his unsteady and weak breaths as he tried to form a word, a phrase, whatever was going on inside his madman’s mind.
“ I… was right… ” he continued, and it almost seemed like he would be laughing if he could. “ After all… you are… like me… ”
She felt a rage with no equal boil through her veins, and she wanted to scream and deny him of that truth he believed so fiercely.
Instead, she relaxed her shoulders, turned around and stared at him - his half lidded eyes, his blissful expression - and waited.
“ You saved me… so we can continue our hunt… ” he said, and groaned as he tried to push himself up, unsuccessfully. If it had been anyone else, she would have rushed to their side to urge them to stay down. But him? He could do whatever he wanted to feel something. “ I knew it… ”
She did not pity him.
She did not like him.
She did not wish to remain hunting him down and killing him, again and again.
She had no desire to save his wicked soul.
She did not want to fix him in any way.
She wanted him dead. But when she had the chance, she faltered. Why?
Looking into his eyes, she searched for the answers to her question, only to find them shining right back at her in his bright blue irises and pained smirk.
Was that how he felt, when he ruled Ala Mhigo?
When he controlled Fordola?
When he gave power to Yotsuyu?
A sick and yet exciting warmth bubbled up in her stomach and suddenly, she felt like in a twist of fate, having bluffed all this time to herself and finally accepting she had the winning hand, ready to play it out of pure luck and inner sabotage.
Perhaps they were one and the same, she and he.
But now, who held the leash to the wild dog was her.
She knew what he could do.
She knew his power.
She knew his strengths.
And she knew his weaknesses.
With part of her ashamed, but a much stronger part finally feeling like she understood what all of that ordeal was about, she made her way towards his side and sat down on the bed, staring at him, seeing in his eyes that hunger and eagerness to play. And doing as her guts told, she reached up and grabbed his hair in a fist, pulling it down and making him look up, despite how in pain he was, despite how sick he felt, and enjoying the satisfaction of hearing him groan in response.
I will give you what you want… and in return… you’ll do what I say, when I say. Understood?
Their eyes met again, his head still up towards the ceiling, and yet them burned with excitement, as if that had been his reason of living all this time, and that now he could have it like a free plate of meal whenever he needed.
And with a voice stronger than before, he gave her his consent.
“I accept.”