I've always been lucky. Now hold up one second. I know for sure from the previous events I have just related that you're thinking 'No way. She's as lucky as a tonberry who ate a black cat for breakfast and then washed it down with some broken mirror shards,' but I swear, outside of card games with Auron I'm usually so hot that you need a welding mask just to look at me. In the end, being lucky is kind of a required skill for a little girl with sticky fingers and a tendency to swipe spare change, ignition keys, and pass codes from her dad before she could toddle properly. Being lucky doesn't mean you never get caught, -- everybody gets caught sometimes; law of averages again -- it just means you get caught less often. Fewer hidings is more than enough incentive to get luck working for her over time.

But Pops always did say that you pay for everything you get, one way or another. Maybe Auron is just the way I have to pay for all the good luck I have everywhere else, like some kind of weird stoic leveling hand of justice. Maybe he kicked me right out of luckiness heaven and straight into luckiness purgatory. I bet Wakka would've eaten that up with a spoon a few months ago -- You see? Yevon's makin' sure you don't get nothing for free, ya? You got to -atone.- Really, he seems to like penance and punishment a little too much, if you get my meaning. It makes me wonder if all those belts Lulu wears are just for show.

Well, since my horrible luck against Auron was what had gotten me into this mess in the first place, I thought it was a dandy solution to let it try and get me out of it. I know what you're thinking, 'Don't cross the streams, Rikku! You've already lost one leg to Auron, what else do you want to lose?' but I'm not crazy enough to keep beating a dead horse (for very long). Nope, I'd lost my leg to Auron, and my targe, and my gear, and all my gil, and -le sigh- Deus Ex Machina, but I wasn't about to lose my shirt to the man, either literally or figuratively.

I know what you're thinking, 'So how does our beautiful and intrepid heroine intend to use her luck to get back sitting on top of the cake if she'd given up gambling with Ol' Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails?' Well, I'll tell you. Before I became a guardian to protect Yunie from herself, really, and everyone else that's always encouraging all her suicidal tendencies, before I became a mechanic and took my first speeder apart and put it back together again with only three missing pieces and a way higher top speed, and even before I became a thief when I stole the pocket watch from Pop's back pocket for the first time -- before all of that, I was a treasure hunter. You kind of have to be if you grow up in the desert. Finding anything out there -- even Home if you manage to toddle out of sight distance -- is totally a treasure hunt.

So yep, you guessed it. I was hunting treasure. How did I think a pile of riches and rarities would help me out of this mess I was in with Auron? Well, to put it bluntly, riches never hurt. Gil makes Spira go round, no matter what those dolorous Yevonites may say about sacrifice and summons and dead guys and pyreflies. Since I couldn't win my swag back from Auron, I figured that if I found something good enough on my little romp, then I could always barter for it. Tit for tat. There's nothing shameful about trading, and I was sure I could find something that he wanted more than my right leg. I mean, my leg doesn't even come with thigh-highs like Lulu's. It was like getting a ratchet set without all the ratchets. He had to realize I'd given him a raw deal.

It was kind of especially raw since I'd up and left with his merchandise still attached to my trunk. I did leave him a very nice little note and an IOU for my leg, and I also left Deus Ex and my targe as a sign of good faith, but I know if someone made off with my loot then I'd be way cranky about it, no matter how nice a note they left. He was going to take some serious buttering up when I got back or he might just keep my leg IOU out of spite and if Pops ever found out then I'd get a hiding like you wouldn't believe. So I had to find something extra good, you see. I was kind of hoping pipe-dream-like that I'd stumble upon the fabled treasure of Yevon-Ra and have enough gold plated junk to sell that I could maybe raise enough to bribe Yojimbo in to limit for us. It's the kind of thing that would give Auron his jollies, I think, and really, he has to be curious about it, since we've never met anyone who can even claim to have seen Yojimbo break. Satisfying his curiosity has got to be worth more than my leg. In fact, probably it's worth a lot more, since I can't imagine from his facial expression that he's curious about much any more. He's older than a garbage scow, and I think he must know just about everything.

So, all I had to do was rely on my luck and trust it to lead me to a big ol' stash of metaphorical truffles.

I think you can guess where this is going.

I'd always been lucky -- that is, until I went toe-to-toe with Auron.

Those truffles were going to be harder to nab than I thought.

The Shape of His Heart

By Gabi-hime (gabihime@gmail.com)

Chapter One - Follow the Queen

You've got to wonder: how do things like adamantoises get into caves in the first place? I mean, I can't claim to be a walking encyclopedia on fiends the way the Crusader master trainer is, but I do know that there's no way an adamantoise could get through the crevice I'd come through -- even if it were a baby adamantoise -- and there's no such thing anyway. Fiends are born fully grown -- everyone knows that. Otherwise killing little kitten Coeurls constantly might get to be too much even for somebody with as much practice at it as, say, Mister Dependable. I can way see Auron crying over mashing up little kittens. Why, Fluffy, -why-? Anyway, fiends aren't born wee, so all I can figure is that some pyreflies are just drawn underground where they coalesce into crap like adamantoises that will never ever be able to squeeze their huge horny shells through the cheese grater cave openings.

Really, that has to make adamantoises feel a little impotent. I bet the other fiends make fun of them -- tubby guts and all -- and they never even get to feel the sun. That's a little sad, even for a fiend.

That must be why they're so bad tempered.

You can bet your autographed portrait of Maester Kinoc that the one that had me backed up against the wall was way bad tempered. He made Auron seem like jolly old Father Yule with jingle bells on, and red coats aside, the two of them don't have much in common. I dunno if you knew that or not. I'm kind of an expert on these things.

Okay, back up. You probably want to know how I got from the poker table with Red and Unbearable taking possession of my one and only right leg to being pinned up against the wall in a snowy cave by an adamantoise hungry for a delicious Rikkusnack. That's an interesting story, and it all begins one snowy night in Macalania after I'd lost the deed to my leg in that fateful card game. Well, not long after, that old card sharp decides he's had enough fun and entertainment from me for one night, so he turns in -- looking smug as a mimic who's just gobbled your lock pick and your good hand. Not wanting to stay up to listen to Tidus giggle and construct helpful theories on just what ol' Blood n' Guts intended to do with my leg, I turned in too, although not to sleep.

I have to admit, my pride was a little wounded, and it was probably going to end up more wounded in the morning when Auron gave me back my leg -- what, like it's not good enough to keep? On the other hand, I didn't want to end up stuck for a week in Macalania with a crappy old claw while we hunted monsters for that old fogie in the Calm Lands and everyone tittered over my leg in Auron's custody. So, as you may have guessed, I decided to cut and run. Now, eventually I was going to get an earful about deserting my summoner and blah blah blah from Mister Likes to Lecture So Much He Should Have Been a School Marm, but really, they could spare me for a couple of days while they hunted monsters and I hunted a little treasure. Besides, it's not like they're hard to find, since they go everywhere in my Pops's airship. Anyway, I was going to take Iron Grip with me, so I was even helping them out catching some monsters that they might not even run across, besides. It was an everybody wins situation. The important part here was it was also a Rikku wins situation, and I kinda sorta needed one of those to buck my spirits back up.

So I wrote a cute little note explaining that I was off for a couple of days and that I'd be back soon and added that if they finished up their monster hunting before I was back, that I'd catch up for sure. Then I thought twice and added the IOU for my leg to the bottom of the note. I didn't want Auron to think I was doing anything like making off with his rightful property (even though I was). I grabbed my old claw and last season's leftover targe and then I slipped out the back. It wasn't that hard really. For my piece of mind I'm going to at least pretend that that's because they were all fast asleep in their beds and not because they were glad to be rid of me for a while. I mean, from what I managed to piece together after the fact, my little jaunt was devastating to morale. Well, I like to tell myself that, anyway.

Just a couple of passes out in the snow fields and I'd managed to palm enough gil to buy a few days worth of supplies, rent a chocobo, and even pick up this old piece of junk pistol that I thought might be fun to work on while I was on my excellent adventure. Cost of living in Spira is really not all that bad. It's cost of Saving the World that'll really get you.

Anyway, while I was trying to get a good price on a chocobo -- partially because I was afraid I was going have to cross the Thunder Plains again, alone this time, and there was no way I was doing that on foot; more like just jump on a bird and then let it run -- the chocobo master let it slip that he'd heard there was some good stuff to be had up in the Macalania Hills. He said it was some kind of cave system that he didn't think had been touched in a long time because the fiend infestation was pretty bad. I guess I must look pretty tough -- or maybe he just knew who I spend my time with. Anyway, I thanked him for the tip and then bridled my chocobo -- Frances -- and then headed up the mountain.

Frances and I got to the place the guy had mentioned in about two days despite the blizzard and somebody smiled on the two of us, because the snow cleared that morning, so I only had to spend one miserable night huddled up against Frances's back to keep from freezing to death. I dunno if you know it or not, but my clothes aren't exactly made for zero degree temperature. I told you already. I grew up in the desert.

After the snow cleared, I did a little hunting and after a couple of dead ends, I found a pretty promising little crevice and gave Frances a pat on the butt to go back home, and then crammed myself through, dragging my gear behind me.

That just about brings us up to speed. I did a little digging and I found an old sphere that I stuck in my bag to check out later, and then I decided that faint hearts never ended up with anything good, so I went exploring a little deeper and I found some pretty passable loot.

And then, she said, the adamantoise found me. And he slung me against the wall and pinned me there with his tail.

I dunno if you know exactly how big an adamantoise's beak is. I don't really think you can know until it's a couple inches away from you and snapping at you like he thinks you'll taste good with cake. Or on cake. Or in cake. And that's not even it, because fiends don't have to eat anything. They just run on hate: hate of the living, desires for things that they aren't allowed any more, envy and rage all smoking up inside like a steam engine fit to explode. That adamantoise didn't really want to eat me. I could almost forgive him for it if he had -- you know, everybody's gotta eat and sometimes you just end up being snack food. But he didn't want me for dinner, he just wanted me dead. Fiends don't hunt for food, they hunt to murder. They hunt because they hate the living. They hunt for blood steaming on the ground, not in their bellies. Misery loves company, and this big horny turtle was the misery just desperate to have a piece of my company.

Frankly, I don't want to spend my afterlife as a pussguts angry turtle.

I chipped away at his tail with my claw, but all it did was scratch up the bastard's finish. He had me slung so hard against the wall that I was starting to see stars against the white stone of the ceiling. I could almost hear music in my head, ringing through my ears like a hurricane. It was one of those 'maybe I should rethink my faith before I become paste against the wall' moments that everybody has every once in a while, and I was almost ready to commend myself to Yevon. Almost. But then, my pops didn't raise no fool, and I knew with the way my luck had been running, something was bound to happen that didn't involve me becoming sealing paste in the immediate future.

That something happened with kind of a roaring noise; like a motor running with no oil, angry and protesting, then a sharp crack that almost broke my ears in two, like having a concussion grenade go off inside your helmet. Then there was such hissing that I was sure the adamantoise was shrieking and that was his way of greeting his dinner, his killmeal -- hiss, snap snap and no more Rikku -- but then he was trembling, shaking like popcorn on a hotplate, and everything went all blurry-steamy whirlwind of light, and I slumped against the wall where he left me, on my hands and knees, scraped up from his careful attention and gulping down air as fast as I could burn it into my lungs.

I saw stars raining again and it took me a few seconds to realize that they weren't stars, and that there were pyreflies swimming through the air all around me and that's what had made all the steam and hissing and was making my eyes sting even now.

Then I saw his boots, shiny-dark and still wet with melted snow, and stupidly, all I could think was how did he manage to fit through that little hole?

"Hn," was all he said as he shouldered his nihontou, tapping it idly over his shoulder, "As I expected."

He really always knows just what to say to lift your spirits, doesn't he? Nobody had asked him to come to my rescue. Certainly not me. I had been very specific in my pleas to a higher authority that whoever it was that bailed me out of this situation, his name had better not be Auron.

"Gee thanks," I managed as I flopped back against the wall, still breathing like an asthmatic in a marathon, "I'm way glad to see you too."

"I'm sure."

“How did you find me?” I asked, slowly catching my breath.

“Chocobo scat.”

I rubbed my forehead and then went boneless, "Those things shouldn't be allowed to come in sizes that big."

"Too big for you to handle," he said, and it was not a question.

"Not so much too big as too thick-skinned, but if you're waiting for me to say 'Why'd you do that for, I was doing fine on my own,' you may as well keep waiting, because I'm not gonna."

"Contrary."

"It's what you want, isn't it? So you can give me a lecture about responsibility or something. I dunno how this ties into responsibility, but I'm sure you could make it if you tried."

"No."

"You couldn't? No, I bet you could. Don't sell yourself short there. I've heard you get going before, all blah blah blah pilgrimage this and yak yak yak yak duty that."

"I'm not interested in lecturing you about responsibility."

"Why?"

"I think it's a lost cause."

"Hey! That's not very nice!" I jumped to my feet, hands ball fisted at my sides. It didn't matter that most of the time I agreed with the things that he said. He always picked the worst way to say them, like he took some sort of perverse satisfaction from roughing people up inside as much as possible. It was like everything he said was a threat issued at whoever was listening to him, like he was waving in challengers, daring them to take try and take a piece of him. This was his challenge to me, like we were in a pissing contest and he was winning. He was way winning.

"Neither is running off and further complicating Yuna's life by making her worry," and it seemed like he always thought five squares bigger than I did, and he was merciless at bringing his cause/effect gun to bear. It wasn't fair -- I hadn't be hurting anyone or anything and he always made things so complicated, too complicated, like he'd forgotten why you do things just to do them, and it was like he was taking some pent up frustration out on me, because he could never say anything to Yuna, Yevon's gift to self-centered, self-sacrificing martyrs everywhere and dammit, why had I even thought that? I love Yunie, I love her so much, and I felt like crying, right there, like he was wringing the tears out of me like you squeeze an old dishrag.

"I thought you said you didn't want to lecture me," I spat, shaking my head, trying to catch myself, trying to ground the current running inside me before I either fell down crying or hit him as hard as I could or maybe did both in hopes one of them would make me feel better.

"There is a difference between lecture and fact." Nothing is sure in this world except Death, Taxes, and Auron. He made me feel so small and so petty, caring about my stupid pride when Yuna had none and had married a pot-bellied daddy-killer first to make the world happy, and then to save all of us. But maybe that was part of Yunie's problem. Maybe we'd have all done better if she'd had a little pride.

"I wasn't deserting her, I was only going off on my own for a couple of days," I defended, breathing hard and fast and fighting back sniffles that made me look and feel like a refugee from the first grade brigade. A couple of days, that was all it had been. Just a little while on my own, to remind me that maybe not every single moment of my life now belonged to Yunie and defeating Sin and nothing else. A couple of days to forget. I was being selfish, wanting a little piece of pie all for myself, but is it always wrong to be even a little selfish? It seems to me when all you have is selflessness, you end up with a bunch of dead summoners and Sin almost deified by people obsessed by loss.

"A couple of days would have stretched into a lifetime for Yuna when your blood was spilled to mortar the stones here. If I had come even a few moments later, all I would have found is a smear." A smear. I wanted to be a smear now, because a smear couldn't hear, a smear wouldn't understand what he was saying, how he was saying it.

"I can take care of myself!" I was at the end of my rope now, near hysterical because he'd bullied me into it, and now I was shouting the same things at him that I had shouted at my father a few years back when I had been thirteen and feeling out my jesses hard and fast, screaming away from Home then jerked back so fast it made whiplash seem the kinder and gentler way -- it was like he had a rubber band around my waist and a cranky pull and a revolving door to help the process along.

"You were doing so admirably, yes."

"Shut up!" I shouted, fisting my hands, and then I knew I was far too deep into the mire of Stupid Things Rikku Says to do anything else but ride it as I cried, naked and raw and hating him for staring at me dispassionately, like I was an unseemly child and he was so tired of me being that way, and didn't I have anything better to do with myself? And I hated myself for wishing I was different, for wishing I was like Lulu or Yuna or even stupid, dummy Tidus, who always looks after all of us, even him and I couldn't do anything right and he knew it and he said so.

I threw down my claw and I ran, because running is what we all do when we can't think of something else to do, and I didn't know if I was running from Auron or from Sin or from myself and all I could think was stupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupid and I didn't know who was stupid or why, if I was hating Auron or I was hating Spira or I was hating Yevon or I was hating me. I was just running as hard as I could, staggering over the uneven ground, scrabbling over stones and and slick ledges like I was a delirious little monkey, choking because everything was horrid and wrong, and I could hear his heavy boots on the stone behind me in cadence, like my deliberate shadow. He didn't even think I could run off and have -a fit- by myself.

Stupidstupidstupidstupidstupid.

I threw myself around the a huge, gently rounded boulder and then everything all seemed to melt away in front of me, and there was nothing before or behind but blackness, just emptiness, because I'd staggered off the rim of a hole, wide as a river, that seemed bottomless the way the darkness ate up at the wall sconces like it was tactile, liquid, and my pulse slammed into my ears once, hard, and my stomach fell out inside like a mess of worms. That's when I knew I was gone, because I couldn't fly, not like Yunie, aeons bursting out like magic and fireworks from her soul, soulfriends to help her when she was in need. I couldn't fly because I wasn't soul. I was sand and sweat and machina and knee socks and regret.

And I fell.

But then I seized up, the same way your muscles seize right before you're going to throw up everything you've got down and it was hard and soft and hurt like hell because he had me slung under his arm like a chicken at market, a chicken he didn't want to lose, or maybe a chicken he wanted to squeeze the filling out of, like I was a pastry, and he'd thrown his sword down to catch me, and I could still hear it ringing against the stone where he'd struck it in so hard that it was still standing. And then I laughed and laughed, beating my fists against his chest like this was a sensible way to draw his attention, and I had lost it again, but this time from joy, because my luck had shifted again and shifted beautifully into this perfect, wonderful insane corkscrew, and I was hanging out of his arms over a depthless staircase like the poorest invalid ever and I was laughing.

Spiraling out of the darkness below us like the most euphoric thing I have ever known came the first voice, deep and bass like thunder, balanced and then surpassed by an alto that hummed like the rain, singing up around it like knitting coming together, chorded, into one whole magnificent thing.

Ieyui Nobomenu . . .

The fayth. We had found the fayth.