Chapter 20: Double Take, part 3: Lest Darkness Come --------------------------------------------------- "D-dad?" It's not him. This is impossible. This must be an imposter, someone who knows way too much about me, and all this is just an elaborate plot to kill me, maybe take my shoes... yeah, it must be the shoes they're after. I draw my swords; I squeeze the grips tighter than I need to. The bastards. Impersonating my father. Can they go no lower? "Sebastian. How wonderful it is that you've joined the Empire. When I was your age, I did the exact same thing. Didn't make the intelligence division, mind you, but still..." he says in a deep voice, all scratchy like broken glass. It sounds exactly like my father but I know it isn't, so I dash forward and slash out at him, letting my velocity draw the sword straight through him. It doesn't work; I feel myself moving forward, and then there's a rattling in my right arm. I have to pull back, and my blade is still shaking from the impact. No effect. "Shut up!" I yell at him. This is insane! Not only is this guy the most appallingly evil person I've ever met, but now he turns out to be pretty much invulnerable. Wonderful. How am I supposed to beat him? God. Maybe I can't. all those hands. stained black... maybe Garek will be receiving mine soon. "Me? Shut up? I think not," he begins, then readies his sword, just as I push forward with another attack. As I come up on him, he levels a kick at me. I don't have time to dodge it-AAAAAAAGH! It feels like I just ran into a mule's hoof. It hurts when I try to breathe now; I can barely stagger off; I hold my stomach tight. If I don't, it feels like everything might spill out. "Carrig! It's over! I don't know who you are, and I don't need to. You've killed enough," I yell at him. I'm shaking. I can't believe this guy. Whatever I do, he's ready for it. Every strike, every word, he sees it coming from a mile away. He's even smiling now, like this is funny. I'll carve that grin off his face. "Carrig? You're still calling me that? Oh, how pathetic," he says, almost as condescendingly as dad used to. But he can't be dad. He can't. "Very well, I'll start calling you Bes now. How's that? Or maybe I can just make your life lluN and void!" he says, smiling wider than ever. I brace for impact; he looks like he's going to attack, but... he isn't. He's still ready to fight, but he isn't going on offense. No tensed arm muscles, no battle stance, and his sword tip is still wavering in the air. He's not coming at me yet. Who is this guy? "You're not Garric Alltaire! Stop lying and fight!" "Sebastian, let me tell you something. Years ago, when your mother died," he begins. I can't believe him! He even tells long, dull stories like dad does! "Shut UP!" I yell again. He ignores me. "Like I was saying, when your mother died, I had no idea what to do. I really didn't. I lost focus. The only thing I had to depend on was you, boy. You didn't understand, you probably still don't, but you were my link, my lifeboat. After Lenore died... I didn't know what to do. But with you around, helping me get back into life, I thought that I could handle things. Somehow, I could weather the storm. "But you didn't let me have that peace that I wanted. Not you. You, so obsessed with my safety and well-being, never considered that what I was doing could be right! I could have defeated Kefka! I could have! But you - you took my armour, you hid it, and ran away in shame. That was my chance to make up for your mother's death, Sebastian! That quest was everything to me!" No. This is not real. No one can know this much about me. No one except... this can't be real, but it's no dream, and I know that the man in front of me, the man bleeding his heart out at me, IS my father. "Everything to *you?* You? Did you ever stop to consider anything beyond your own ego! Didn't you think about anyone else? Did you consider what my life would be like without you? Did you consider what everyone back home would think? What would Mom have said?" "Don't bring your mother into this! She would have supported me, not damned me, you little wretch! She's the reason I needed to do that!" "Oh get off it," I yell at him. I've never really yelled at him before. I've never considered it to be an option at all. It was just something that I didn't do, and yet here I am, screaming at him. But I'm right on this. I have to believe that. "There was nothing you could have done about Mom's death! It was beyond your control, beyond mine, beyond everyone's. This quest to defeat Kefka was suicide all along, and you know it. You can't live with the fact that you were helpless, so you tried to kill yourself in the most insane way possible!" "I would have succeeded! I would have!" he screams back, then springs forward, slashing at me. I throw the attack to the side, and then pull away a bit, to gain breathing room. "You would have failed! You can't defeat God all by yourself. It's not possible." He slashes at me again, and this time, I can't stop it. It tears into my arm, beyond the protection of the vest. I can't believe I'm being so calm about it: I can't feel that area any longer. It's just a warm, dead patch in my body, but it doesn't matter right now. I stare him right in the eye. "You've only failed one person, dad: yourself." I tear forwards now, bowling him over and sending his sword skittering off. As he tips backwards, myself on top, I feel my injured arm lose track of the sword it was holding. So I press it down against his forehead, pressuring his skull enough so that he's stuck down there. I raise the other sword, and I dangle it above his neck. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I can feel them drifting lazily down my face, and dad if still smiling like a madman. No, not like a madman, really. He IS a madman. "Did I..." he starts, then laughs a bit. His adam's apple bobs, and the tip of my sword cuts slightly into it. I know there's red flowing down his neck now. I don't need to look. "Did I really fail? You? Myself? Please tell me, boy. Please tell me that I didn't fail my only son." His eyes are starting to water as well, and his breathing is slowing down... he knows what's coming, and so do I. I try to talk, but my mouth is dried out. I lick my lips, and try to speak, my tears mixing with the words. "You didn't fail me, dad. I always believed in you." He reaches up one hand, all gloved in black metal, and cups it over my own: the one holding the sword. He grimaces slightly. "Thank you," he says, and pulls our hands down. Mine, his, and my mother's ethereal hand, all pushing the blade down one last time. I feel a shudder beneath me, a warmth spreading up the blade and into my hand. I still feel cold. The weight on my hand lifts... my mother's gently lifts, my father's shadow in tow, while the death of him simply falls off like wet mud. And that's all.