Writings of an Owlmoose

Summary: Paine and Nooj share the truth about the past with their young son.

Notes: Bunnied by a single line that popped into my head. Written for 30_fantasies for the theme “Life.” Post canon, so no direct connection to the AU collaboration “Bloodlines”; also not officially connected to the post-canon collaboration “Promises“, although of course all three stories share some common themes and inspirations.

Metadata: Paine/Nooj. Rated PG, 1100 words. Post-canon, no real spoilers.

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Inheritance

“Mom! Hey Mom!” The young boy came in the front door and launched himself across the room. Paine looked up from the book she had been reading and smiled, opening her arm and letting her four-year-old son nestle into her side. “Guess what, Mom? I shot a fiend!”

“Did you now?” She raised her eyes higher, to the boy’s father, who had stopped in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe and the other on his cane. “Fiend-hunting already?” she asked.

“Well,” Nooj replied, “it was a funguar. Not exactly a difficult target. Still, he did well.”

“I expected to hear stories about shooting trees and boulders after a first lesson.”

Nooj lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “That is where we started, but you know Jarl. Always impatient to move on to the next thing. So I sought out some fiends I knew we could handle before he went running off after bigger game.”

Paine shook her head with a rueful laugh. “An overachiever already,” she joked as she noted that the rifle Nooj took off his back and leaned up against the wall was one with a setting for flame, capable of taking out several of the plant fiends at a distance. Nooj might still take the occasional questionable risk with his own person, but Paine had quickly learned to trust him with Jarl’s safety. She returned her attention to the boy. “So you had a good time?”

“Yeah. But I like my sword better. When can we play swords again?” The question held a plaintive note.

“In a couple of months, after the baby is born,” she assured him, just as she had promised every day for the past several weeks.

Jarl cast a longing look at the two wooden swords propped up in the corner. “Okay. Hey Mom. When the baby comes, if it’s a girl, will she be made of machina like Father?”

Paine swallowed the abrupt guffaw that threatened to burst forth. She looked at Nooj, who had taken a sudden and intense interest in the floor. Finding no help there, she turned her attention back to Jarl. “Why do you think that might happen?”

“‘Cause girls are like their dads and boys are like their moms” was Jarl’s immediate reply. “That’s why I have black hair and red eyes and I like swords more than guns.”

“Who told you that?” Paine asked, still amused.

“Vidina.”

Nooj snorted. “It seems that someone is looking to explain losing a blitzball game to his sister.”

Avoiding hysterical laughter was becoming increasingly more difficult, but Paine forged ahead. “It doesn’t work that way, kiddo. If it did, how could Vidina have red hair?”

Jarl’s brow furrowed in great concentration as this flaw in his friend’s logic became apparent to him. “Huh.”

“Everyone is a combination of both their parents,” Paine continued. “Bits and pieces come from each, and they all mix together into a new person. But even if what Vidina said were true, the baby wouldn’t have machina limbs. Your father was born with two arms and two legs, just like you and me. You remember we told you about Sin?”

“Yeah.” Jarl nodded. “The giant evil monster.”

“That’s right.” Paine glanced at Nooj yet again; he was still braced against the door, the amusement drained from him now, standing still as a stone. They had both been putting off telling Jarl this story, but it seemed the time had come. She hoped the boy would be old enough to understand. “When your father was younger, he fought a battle with Sin, and his original arm and leg were badly damaged. The machina limbs are replacements that the Al Bhed made for him.”

“Good as new,” Nooj muttered.

Fortunately, Jarl did not seem to have caught the bitterness in his father’s tone. “Oh. But Sin is gone, right? So I get to keep my arms and legs?”

“You do.” Paine hugged him close. “Okay, now go wash up. We’ll be heading over for dinner soon.”

“Yes Mom.” Jarl ducked out from under her arm, then ran over to Nooj, clutching at the metal leg. “Sorry about Sin, Father,” he said. “Did it hurt?”

Nooj’s good hand released the door jamb and came to rest on his son’s head. “Yes.” The response was nearly inaudible. “It did.”

Jarl’s eyes were wide. “Did your mom make it better?”

“My mother died when I was about your age,” Nooj responded, “so no. But your mother came along not long after. And she excels at that.” He looked up at Paine and met her gaze with a near-smile, then turned his face down to Jarl’s as he tousled the boy’s hair. “Now go. We eat soon.”

“Okay.” Jarl released Nooj’s leg and scampered off. Paine watched him go, lost in thought.

“Quite a son you have there,” Nooj said as he limped into the room. When Paine only nodded, he lowered himself into the chair across from her. It took him a moment to catch her eye. “What is it, love?”

“The way he talks about Sin,” Paine answered. “It’s just a story for him. We can point to the ruins and say ‘Sin did that,’ or explain that he has no grandparents because Sin killed them, but it will never be immediate to him. To his children, Sin will be a legend, and to their grandchildren it will be a myth. For a thousand years, Sin defined Spira. It’s only been gone for ten, and it’s already slipping away into the mists of time.”

Nooj nodded. “We should make certain they never forget.”

Paine looked out the still-open door of their cottage, over the dun grasses of Mushroom Rock and towards the sliver of sea on the horizon, a hand curling protectively over her belly. “I’m not so sure about that. Does it really do us any good to keep mourning for the thousand years we lost? Maybe we should concentrate on moving forward. Sometimes the past is better off left buried.”

She turned inward then, thinking about Spira’s past and its future, too engrossed to notice that Nooj had stood and taken the few steps needed to close the distance between them. So it was a bit of a surprise when his fingers laced with hers, then rested on the skin that protected the new life within her. She tilted her head back and met his warm, solemn eyes. “I’m glad that you did not leave your past buried,” he said.

She smiled. “So am I.” He leaned over to kiss her, and she lifted her free hand to touch his cheek.