oath_breaker | though I did what I thought I had to do, I still lost you

Pea requested an Aqua fic and then I listened to this cover of her theme and got sad.

Aqua, gen, canon verse, post kh3 and detailing what ten years alone might have done to her.

Aqua sat on the shores of Destiny Islands as the sun crept above the horizon, closing her eyes in relief. She relished the warmth. It'd been so long that she'd forgotten the simple pleasure of the sun on her skin, of the crown of her hair growing hot, of the way freckles would crop up. How it felt to capture that sun in her skin from a day spent out, or how water could be the exact same temperature as her, so that it felt seamless to wade through it. It seemed so strange now that she could forget such tangible, real sensations.

She'd forgotten the way scent could permeate everything. Terra's cologne lingered, bright in her memory. Ventus and how he smelled of citrus when she had hugged him earlier, fresh from borrowing Sora's shower.

She worried them, she knew, with the way she hugged too long, or stared too much, or couldn't keep up conversations. How she forgot to relax with people around, or how she talked to herself, or how she couldn't remember to eat or sleep or shower. How she slept too long, too little, ate too much or not enough. How clumsy she was, dropping books or plates. The way she never baked, or would walk out of a room with no warning.

That last one made her feel so guilty she wanted to crawl into a hole and hide for eternity. She'd always been praised by Eraqus for her good sense, her proper manners, the way she could preen when he presented her to other masters or guests. How she could do no wrong. How clever she was, and strong, and quick to learn.

She'd always been so good. She'd worked so hard to be good. What would Eraqus say, seeing her now? All apart and upside down, like string hopelessly tangled, or paper torn apart.

The worst thing the darkness had taken from her, Aqua thought, lowering her chin to her bent knees, was her desire to change. She sat here on the beach waiting for the sunrise, so she could stop running from the night. She only spent moments with the people she'd waited a decade to see. She couldn't change into anything more comfortable, because every noise, every sound had her leaping up to fight.

She'd hit Ven, once. He'd snuck up behind her, always so light on his feet, and instinct reacted before reason. Her knuckles had backhanded him across his cheekbone. Nothing had mattered, then. Not his forgiveness, or laughter, or the way Terra hugged her when she cried. She was like an animal, stumbling to become human again. She couldn't look Ven in the eyes for a long time after, and guilt strangled her. She knew the way Ven looked at her, knew Ven missed hugging her, or demanding hair pets, or for her to bake, or to indulge his newest curiosity as he talked and talked. Knew Ven missed her, the Aqua who'd been strong and bright and unashamed.

But she couldn't find her anymore. She'd lost her, in that dark water like syrup. She wondered if she'd ever find her.

Aqua didn't cry, because she'd spent too long trying not to, as if not shedding tears was some marker of strength. It never had been, when she was all that was left behind, eroded by isolation and the way she'd become inhuman.

It'd been easier when there had been a battle to fight, a purpose to walk towards. But Eraqus was dead, Terra was distant, and Ven seemed lost. All three of them were like marionette's with no director, limp with apathy. Ven was finding his, with friends and laughter and comfort, with his ear against Sora's chest for that familiar beat, and with his hands tangled in Roxas', wrestling and tumbling as they rediscovered living.

Terra had gone into a meeting with Yen Sid and came out tight lipped with rage, eyes flashing like lightning, so tense Aqua had worried he'd snapped. She'd almost asked. Almost. Maybe things would be different if she had. But all she could remember was the last time she'd overstepped, and she dropped the hand she'd nearly touched him with.

She could never forget his face cast in betrayal. Aqua had been too far in over her head, playing Miss Perfect, and she'd hurt her friends.

"I wonder," she said, "what would be different if I'd just been good?"

Good to Eraqus, to her friends, to others. If she'd been better.

"Maybe I won't ever be like that again," she said, and her heart squeezed. It ached so hard it hurt, and she wanted nothing more than to fall apart into sand and be washed away with the waves.

"I'm sad," she whispered, and it was childish and true. But there was no Eraqus to promise her she was strong, no Terra to hold her hand, and not even herself to be someone Ven could depend on.

She pillowed her head on her crossed arms, and closed her eyes as the sun rose fully.