Everything Looks Better Ch. 03

Eyes widening, she bristled with the anticipation of his confession.

"TidusisSin."

Raine blanched and numbly shook her head. "But in Zanarkand, you said—"

"I know what I said," Auron murmured. "Many die fighting Sin, but only a few become Sin."

Raine's eyes unfocused, seeing something in her mind's eye only.

Auron's brow puckered. "Raine?"

By the time he noticed the sick green tint on her face, it was too late. Her vomit was mostly bile and water and it splattered his chest first before spilling down to his boots. Then she fainted.

The summer before Raine started college had been dedicated to the houseboat. Auron helped her gut it so she could have the mold removed and she had the carpets pulled up so the floors could dry out and hired an expert to have the machina rewired so she could have power. Everything Auron knew about machina he had learned from the Al Behd girl on his last pilgrimage, but it was enough to fool Raine into thinking he was expert. With a bit of tinkering, Auron managed to get the stove working, but was unable to restore the refrigerator, which was probably for the best since they never could get rid of the smell. Small wonder, considering the rotten fish they found liquefied and congealed in one of the bottom drawers. She ended up buying a used refrigerator from an auction-house. The outside walls had all been insulated with pink hard foam and the windows sealed, edging the houseboat's status to "barely liveable," just in time for the colder months, and when she started college, she put the renovation on hold to concentrate on her studies.

That had been six years ago.

Auron sat at the breakfast bar in a wobbly, high-back bar stool Raine rescued from someone's trash, along with three of its brothers. She had painted them white and sewed cushions for the seats and stenciled daisies on the backrests. The kitchen was being held together by shims and caulk and all the cupboard doors had been removed for refurbishing, exposing dry foods, canned goods and spices. Carefully slicing tomatoes and cucumbers on a butcher block of wood, Auron kept on the opposite side of the island counter at the outskirts of the kitchen, to stay out of Raine's way as she made dinner.

Every morning, Raine managed to leave the ramshackle of a houseboat looking polished with city sophistication, her hair twisted up and pinned, although she was having some trouble getting used to her new bangs. She was constantly blowing them out of her eyes, fussing with them. She was still wearing her clothes from work, straight leg trousers and a pale blue shirt, although her blazer and press pass had been hastily draped on the stool next to him and her heels had been kicked off somewhere in the living area so she could pad around in bare feet.

"How was work?" Auron asked. He finished the tomato and started on the cucumber.

"Long," she stressed, leaning over the sink to the window. She rolled it open to let in the cool evening air and to help ventilate the steam from her sauce. Outside, the water lapped lazily against the docks. "Memorial Cup, you know."

Auron inclined his head in comprehension. The last Memorial Cup ended short when Sin used the Zanarkand Stadium as target practice, the day they pronounced Tidus dead when they couldn't find his body in the wreckage. This time, they were not only memorializing Jecht, but Tidus, too.

"What happened?"

"A full half hour of sudden-death overtime. The Abes squeaked by with a winning goal in the last ten seconds. I was the only one who could do post-game interviews."

"Where was Colton?"

"At home with the flu," she said, but she seemed almost chipper about it.

Finished with his task, Auron handed Raine the cutting board for inspection and she grinned. "I like how all the cucumbers are perfectly cut to the same size." She scraped the cut vegetables into the bowl of lettuce with the dull side of a knife. "Split a beer?"

"Sure," he said and slipped down from the chair to grab a glass from the doorless cupboard by the sink. Out the window, the docks glowed from the pillars of light marking each houseboat and the sea air was salty and breezy and across the sparkling bay, the Zanarkand skyline glittered against the night.

Raine found a bottle in the refrigerator and they met in the middle of the kitchen to trade so he could twist the bottle cap off. It opened with quick hiss and Raine held the glass he'd given to her, at a tilt to reduce the foam, as Auron poured. When they had equal amounts, she tapped his bottle with her glass with a ceremonious clink before they toasted each other and took a sip. For a moment, she was six-year-old Raine again, ticking together plastic tea cups, raising their pretend beverages to each other, ingesting something imaginary. He wondered if she remembered how they used to do this when she was little, or if it was something he had taught her to do without her realizing it.

Settling back on his perch, he held the bottle between his hands and watched her for a few minutes as she stirred the sauce, flipped down the heat and covered the pan.

Reaching into the cupboard for plates, she paused, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Are you going to eat anything tonight?"

"I'm not hungry. Sorry."

"No worries," she said, a rare glint of Tidus bleeding through. She made a carefree gesture with a roll of her shoulders that made Auron cease in mid-sip so he could take notice and absorb it fondly, glumly. He remembered a bit of dialogue with Jecht from years ago, around the fire with Summoner Braska, another casual gripe about Tidus. "He cries more than his baby sister," Jecht complained in his gritty voice. "And that girl's always playin' in the dirt. Mother says she's a Tomboy." Then he would grumble something unintelligible, pretend to rub the smoke out of his eye.

Raine fixed her plate and pulled over one of her stenciled bar stools to sit across from him. She crossed her legs and put a napkin on her lap.

"So you did post-game interviews?" he asked, circling back to her talk of work.

Warily, she slid her eyes to his. "Ye-ess," she said, somehow making it a two syllable word.

"Women's locker?"

Spearing one of every vegetable onto her fork, she took a bite and shook her head no.

Auron glowered down at his beer and took a sip.

Raine grinned roguishly as she talked around her salad. "Oh, Auron, it's nothing I've never seen before."

"It's not you I'm concerned about."

"The men are gentlemen... it's the women's room you have to watch. They don't cut men journalists any slack."

Auron rolled his eye. "Hmph."

He didn't follow her to the Stadium, not anymore. She had put up with him in high school and through college, but once she entered the Zanarkand work-force, she had a credible reputation to uphold. Sometimes Auron stopped by the Stadium to check on her, usually around lunch time when she'd be eating at one of the vendors and had time to visit with him. She considerately let him know if she was going to be late, which was new and a little strange for him. Oddly intimate.

"Oh," she said, shaking her fork at him. "Before I forget. The toilet is doing that thing again."

"I'll look at it."

Her eyes flew to the clock over the stove. "Shoot, what time is it?"

Fumbling with the remote in the junk basket under the counter, she activated the curved holographic screen in the parlor and rotated it so they could watch from the galley. Raine clicked through the sports channels, stopping at her network. Auron turned to watch, moving gingerly in the unstable chair.

The sports anchors were older, greyer and stuffier than Auron hoped he'd ever get, deep in discussion about the season's chances for the Zanarkand Abes, before introducing Raine in the locker room. She was dwarfed next to the bare-chested Blitzball player, who was in some stage of undress, but it was hard to tell from the angle of the sphere-cam. He was still wet from the sphere pool and water dripped off the ends of his shaggy hair. Auron was familiar with his fresh-from-the-fight appearance, full of charged adrenaline and vitality, as well as the faintly vacant eyes of a typical jock. Raine was her usual professional self and never once gave the impression she noticed the Blitzball star was half naked.

"You guys escaped with a win tonight, how do you feel right now?"

Somewhere off camera, a small riot of excitement distracted the athlete, but Raine commanded his attention as she beckoned him like a siren with her microphone. "I feel pretty good, defense put on a good game and offense played their butts off."

"What was the biggest challenge their offense brought tonight?"

"Actually the center had a really good game, he's got a wither shot we really have to look out for, but we kept up our perimeters and held it up really well. They were doing a lot of tackle slips and pile venoms, so we'll watch the spheres next practice and fix it."

"You guys are playing the Zanarkand Duggles next; will that be the biggest challenge yet?" Raine asked.

While the Blitzball player talked about the other teams' techs and formations, Auron felt a swell of pride for Raine, that familiar tightening in his throat. Submerged in her prepared and relaxed TV realm, Raine was refined and competent for the sphere-cam, the light wisps of blonde hair framing her lean face, her voice crisp, stripped of regionalism, her words solid and clear, not at all like the mumbles and sarcastic murmurs off camera that Auron got to witness.

"It was a tough game out there tonight, we're just going to scheme them up and practice hard and see what happens. They've got a solid flatline form, so we really just have to contain them and do our best to make shots. The Duggles are really making some strides in dismantling the Jecht Shot, so we'll just have to beat them at their own game."

The sphere camera switched to the anchors at the desk, at the top of the stadium. "The Jecht Shot, as you know, was the trademark goal-making move of the legendary Jecht."

Raine was on camera again, her smile bright, unpretentious, her playful tongue in cheek expression flirted with the camera. "Yes, Gabe, I think I know that more than anyone."

Behind Auron, Raine's mouth was full of salad when she snorted. "At least I don't look as pissed as I felt."

With a scripted laugh and exaggerated lilt, the anchor said, "Of course, our own reporter Raine is the daughter of Jecht and brother of Tidus, the center for the Abes 8 years ago."

"Hmm," Auron said, indifferent, as the show went to commercial.

She prickled. "What?"

"Your eyes are too dark."

"It's the sphere-cam make-up," she said, dismissive, eating the hot pasta and red sauce carefully.

"Your eyes look small."

"Are you blind in the other eye, too? Maybe you don't know what you're seeing." There was a mocking challenge in her tone.

Auron arched his eyebrow, faintly smiling.

Twirling her pasta onto her fork, her mood darkened. "Something didn't feel right about tonight, though."

"Why?"

"The whole memorial. My dad, my brother. Everyone here thinks they're dead. I mean, they are, but not the way they think. They're giving them a memorial for all the wrong reasons. And I'm on sphere-cam, covering it, adding to the lie."

"Would it be easier if you didn't know?"

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. She shrugged to indicate she'd get over it and a drop of red sauce hit the chest of her shirt. Swiping it with her finger, she sucked it off. "Dammit. I manage not to splash the whole time until I sit down to eat."

She began undoing the buttons, revealing a white camisole with lace trim and Auron's faint smile transformed to a vague scowl as his eye sunk down to her cleavage first before swimming around to her bare arms, shoulders and neck, all tinted through his sunglasses. The outline of her black bra showed beneath the nearly translucent fabric clinging to her curves. When his gaze traveled up, he felt the spike of surprise as he met her direct eye contact, followed by the burn of shame, even though she most likely couldn't tell what he was looking at through the reflection of his sunglasses. But she sat unblinking, seemingly holding her breath, and he realized she was no fool.

Auron dropped his face and studied the label of his beer bottle, guiltily shifting in his shaky chair.

"What do you have planned tomorrow?" she said, nonchalant. It sounded like she was changing the subject, although her jest about his near-sighted eye was the final punctuation to their previous topic.

"Probably go to the shipyard, see if the supervisor has any work for me."

"Auron, you don't have to work. I need you here at my beck and call." She smiled impishly and tilted her head back to sip her beer, looking at him playfully through her lashes. He was hypnotized by the angle of her neck as she swallowed.

"You need a new toilet. I can only repair the old one so many times." So many times, before he broke it completely.

"I don't want a new toilet until I can afford it myself. I want to finish this place on my own." She shrugged one shoulder casually and winked at him. "And the kindness of others."

Pushing back her plate, she propped her foot on the seat of her stool, hugging her knee with one arm and finished off her beer. The stool shifted dangerously, but held. Genuinely startled when she burped, she shielded her mouth bashfully to excuse herself.

Sweet Raine, he thought, and offered to take her plate, as he did every night. She still had the grace to act surprised every time he washed her dishes and this was usually done in companionable silence, as she read the sports page for her bylines. She read with one leg tucked under the other, and tonight she played with her newly chopped bangs, running her fingers through them, absently twisting them around her finger. Sometimes he would catch her trying to look up at her bangs, a strange, possessed look that made him smirk behind his collar. On nights like this, he found the domestic routine agreeable and on certain occasions he felt like he belonged in Raine's houseboat, this was his home and she was his family.

Later, she folded the paper and tossed it to the table, propping both feet on her counter, leaning back hazardously in the rickety bar stool.

"Auron, I want to ask you something."

Standing at the sink, without his cloak, just trousers, breastplate, collar and boots, he rinsed a glass. "You may ask me anything." Fortunately, Raine usually didn't know the right questions to ask him, despite her reporter's background.

"How much longer are you staying?"

Auron paused and then submerged another glass in the hot water. "I can leave anytime."

"No, I mean, how much longer until you have to go back to Bevelle?"

"Two years."

"Two years?" she whispered.

Auron looked over his shoulder, his hands still in the sink. "Is that a problem?"

"Must you go back?"

"I can't very well live in your spare room forever."

"Why not?"

Auron sighed inwardly. "The pilgrimage."

"Oh yes. Duty calls." Raine locked eyes with him and she didn't let go until Auron turned to drain the water. She dropped her feet from the counter and hopped off the stool. "I'm going to bed early. Lock up?"

"Hmm," he said, a yes.

Most nights did not end this way, talking about the impending pilgrimage. There would be time for that later and he much preferred the normality, the pleasant monotony, of her work-chat or discussions of house repairs. Years ago, he knew she would soon want to do what most women her age were doing. Get married, have children. He wanted her to be happy in Zanarkand while she still could, but how was he going to take her away from a husband who loved her and children who depended on her?

Raine stopped at the hall to her room, her hand against one of the exposed wall studs and looked down at her shoulder so she could see him peripherally. "I'm glad you decided to move in."

Auron nodded definitively. Living under the same roof with Raine had its challenges, but he was better able to protect her this way. What he did or didn't want was irrelevant. "It makes more sense, don't you think?"

"I do. Hey, Auron?"

"Yes?"

"Is your bed comfortable?"

Slipping the dish towel from a ring under the sink Auron dried the suds off his hands and wondered if she found a new mattress on clearance. "It's more than I need," he said. He slept rarely, if at all.

She started to go into the hall, changed her mind. She gave nothing away, her eyes clear as she examined him. "Because, if there's anything I can do to make your bed...more comfortable, you will let me know?"

Auron stopped wiping his hands, straightened his shoulders and gazed at her. Her meaning weakened his knees. Forget she was Tidus' sister, forget she was 20 years younger, forget how she called him Owen until she was 9... he had a mind to follow her into her bedroom to discover just how comfortable her bed was.

But forgetting was too hard. "Raine, everything you give me is more than I need."

Rubbing the side of her face with her shoulder, she sagged and faced the hall, strangely rejected. "Good night, Auron."

"Good night, Raine."