Final Fantasy XII Basch/Penelo "sixteen is dying"
The scent of sea salt impregnates Penelo's hair, damp locks hanging loose and stiff. A wet shirt clings to her skin, white cotton made pink by her flesh underneath, and the little eyelets of lace at the cuffs and collar seem like a tattoo on her skin. She doesn't try to wrench herself from his grip this time, doesn't fling herself back into the rush of waves, arms flailing, angry screams drowned by the roar of the sea. Instead, she sobs against his chest. Basch says nothing, doesn't even shush into her hair. All he does is hold her, waiting while the sun sets.
It doesn't matter how much time passes before she speaks.
When she does, her voice is wet with mucus, muffled by the press of her face against his flesh. "It isn't fair. It isn't fair."
"Vaan's still alive. So is Ashe. Nothing to worry about. Not now."
"That's not true." Her voice a muted wail. "Vaan never said he'd sacrifice himself. He only said he would stop her if she tried to cut a shard."
"Ashe didn't try and Vaan was given no cause to stop her. All is done."
"No..." A long, keening note. "He would have died up there if Reddas didn't stop him. It isn't fair, Basch. It isn't fair." Words hiccuped, choking on unwanted truth.
She looks up, red rimmed eyes and a thick wash of clear snot smeared above her upper lip. Basch pulls at the unbuttoned tail of his shirt and wipes beneath her nose. He doesn't say what he is thinking -- we do as we must do -- but when she frowns at him, he is certain she knows the words he withheld.
"No. Basch, it wasn't supposed to be like that. Vaan's supposed to come back to Rabanastre, back to Kytes and Filo. They count on him. They don't have anyone else. They don't." And she is sobbing again, pressed against his chest, the convulsions in her ribs violent against him.
He breaks apart clumps of her hair and the thick wet strands cling between his fingers. He knows not to say a word. Not this time.
"Vaan never wanted to become a knight, not like Reks, he never did. He wanted to become the great sky pirate of Dalmasca. That's all he wanted, no matter how stupid a dream it was."
"He was only thinking of you when he took up the Treaty Blade."
"No..." Another wail muffled absorbed by his chest. "Vaan was thinking of Ashe and you know it."
"He was thinking of Dalmasca, thinking of all the people who matter to him. That was all."
"No, Basch. You're supposed to be the knight. So aren't you supposed to make the sacrifices. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" A small fist beats against the side of his breast. He doesn't stop her.
"I do what is needed."
"But you just stood back. Back where I stood. Back by your brother. Oh..." She's sobbing again, her wet breath a spasmodic storm of choking coughs.
When he rubs her shoulders, her upper back, the width of her frame seems inconsequential like half the flesh of her body was lost as a generation roamed beneath the city, fending for themselves. Except for the weight of her breasts, she has the body of a child. Basch always remembers how young Penelo is whenever he holds her. Young and small. Much smaller than she appears in battle, when she casts magick or shoots a fast rain of arrows just like he had taught her.
"All of us are still here." His lips rest against her forehead, a final punctuation to his thoughts.
Basch has never kissed Penelo's lips before, not even when he has wanted to after each and every time she has kisses him on his cheek. Two hundred and sixty-one: nearly as many days as they have been out.
Using the side of his forefinger and his thumb, he pinches away the sticky wetness beneath her nose, pooling against her lip. He kisses her, open mouth, catching a quick glimpse of her surprise just before he closes his eyes. She tastes of the sea.