Disclaimer: Final Fantasy IX is the property of Square.

Author’s Note: This is based on the story Zidane tells Dagger in the Black Mage Village. I wanted to explore that a little more as well as the roots of the friendship between Zidane and Freya. Apologies if I deviate from the game a little bit. I haven’t played it for a while.

He can’t find the home haunting his dreams. Zidane faces the truth as he returns to Tantalus.

Place of Memory

Zidane sighed, shifting his rucksack back onto his shoulders. Here he was once again, the great city of Lindblum and just like before he was absolutely no closer to finding the source of the blue light that had haunted him for so many years. His search hadn’t been entirely pointless – after all he’d seen more of the world than he’d possibly imagined – and he’d met that Freya woman who, after apprehending him for lifting her wallet, had turned out to be a decent person. At least he had another friend in the world to hang with if his reunion with Tantalus went badly.

He stepped through the city gates and found himself in the bustling Business District. He breathed in the air, relishing even the stench of gyshal pickles. A faint smile made his lips twinge

It was good to be back.

Shaking his head Zidane walked towards the air cab terminal. He was tempted to stop off at the Industrial District’s bar. He wouldn’t though. That meant the inevitable thing making his heart flutter and his stomach sink would be put off and he didn’t want to feel this nervous for much longer.

He stepped onto an awaiting cab, pretending not to notice the stench of his own body that so offended the other passengers. It was hardly his fault that he hadn’t managed to wash in… er… Wow, it really had been a while Zidane realised with a grin.

The air cab moved off and Zidane watched Lindblum speed by. He really was glad to be back although, he recalled with a soft sigh, the plan had been to never return. But his journey, the one he had started with such a great sense of hope blooming in his heart, had ended in failure. More than that he realised he missed the big city and, most importantly, longed to see his friends again. He remembered his last conversation with Freya. It had only been a week ago in some out of the way bar in Treno’s numerous back streets.

“It’s funny isn’t it, when the truth slaps you,” he had said, nursing a bowl of soup. She never allowed him to drink in her presence. Too young for intoxication she always said. “I didn’t realise it before.”

“Oh?”

He smiled at his jagged image in the bowl. “I’m homesick for the place I left.”

She had laughed, the sound trembling on the edge of bitterness. “It isn’t the place,” she told him.

“No, of course it isn’t.” He looked at her. “It’s the people.”

“Mm,” Freya had responded around a spoonful of soup. She swallowed. “That’s what really matters in this life.”

Back in the present Zidane realised his stop was coming up. It had been a good year since he’d last been in the city but he still remembered everything. It hadn’t changed even slightly. He stepped off the cab and heard everyone still onboard sigh in relief. He turned, captured their faces in his memory and made a few hurried mental notes. Maybe if they noticed some Gil missing from their overstuffed wallets they’d learn not to be so rude to poor, misfortunate smelly strangers.

Here he was. The Theatre District. His knees quaked with each step, getting worse when he left the station. He’d known nerves before but never like this. And why? It wasn’t like he was about to attempt some feat of thievery that would require every last scrap of his talent…

He was just going to face the Boss.

He muttered a curse as he headed down the stairs towards the hideout. Thankfully none of the others seemed to be about. That made it a little easier he supposed. None of them were around to see his trembling.

“Perhaps you are braver than I,” Freya had commented not too long before they had parted ways. “I cannot face my home.”

“Yeah well that’s the difference between you and me.” He had given her a kind smile. “The reason you travel won’t be found at home but where I’m going is the place I’ve probably been searching for all along, even if it isn’t exactly the place I want it to be.”

“You’ll live without answers?”

“For now. No telling what the future will bring, right?”

Right now Zidane knew exactly what the future was going to bring. He dropped his bag, hoping the sound of it hitting the ground muffled his gulp. The Boss looked at him, eyes unreadable behind the thick goggles. He wasn’t speaking. Zidane did it for him.

“I…” Weakness wouldn’t cut it. He forced strength past his nerves. “I came back. I was wrong to...”

…leave.

The first punch twisted him right around. The second left him gasping. The third and fourth joined forces to knock him to the ground and the fifth rolled him off his stomach and onto his back.

He had left Tantalus without warning. He’d upped and left in the middle of the night. The first few days traversing the countryside had been dull but Zidane had entertained himself with little fantasies of how everyone back home would be missing him and desperately searching for him. Eventually something close to maturity had done away with such arrogance but as he began to miss his friends, family even, more and more he had always hoped (believed) that they would miss him as well. When he began his journey back to Lindblum he knew the reunion would be a little uncomfortable.

This wasn’t uncomfortable. It was downright agonising.

A gigantic hand, bigger than Zidane remembered, stretched out and pulled him up by his shirt. His feet dangled in the air and he took another two punches to each cheek. The final blow sent him flying across the hideout. He landed on his back and skidded back a further few inches.

“Well?” Baku demanded.

Oh how he wanted to not get up. Coughing, Zidane rolled over and pushed himself to his hands and knees. Anger was beginning to spike out of his heart, wrapping itself around his stomach and shooting into his veins. He hadn’t deserved this at all. Sure he had left without mentioning it but they all would’ve guessed why. It wasn’t as though he had been quiet about not knowing where he had come from. It wasn’t as though the Boss didn’t know that the youngest orphan in his care, the one he had found half starved in the countryside years ago, had always wanted to know where he had come from. So why the beating? He forced himself to his feet in a rush. He kicked at the floor.

“What was that for?”

Baku laughed. “Welcome home. Go take a bath.”

Zidane was gaping. He didn’t feel like he could do much else.

“Oiy Boss I got dinner like you asked.”

“Yeah Bro, sure you did. I reckon I was the one who did the hard work. You just carried it back here.”

“Who cares? Let’s eat!”

The three cheery voices stopped dead when they saw Zidane. He turned to see them but realised too late it was a bad idea to keep moving as fast as the adrenaline in his system told him to. He wasn’t sure if the world span or if he just fell over.

Everything went quiet.

Then he could hear the rain. It was pouring hard. He could hear his friend laughing. Freya was standing outside her tent, face turned up to the pouring skies.

“Rain. I only thought it fell like this in Burmecia.”

Zidane poked his head out his own tent. “I dunno how you could live in a city where rain, rain and more rain is all you ever get.”

“I don’t know either.”

Zidane closed his tent flap and settled himself under his blankets. “So why are you standing out there?” He called.

“It’s soothing. It’s nice.”

“It’s cold.”

“It’s a little piece of home, miles and miles away from the real place.”

“Blue lights remember? Reckon this’ll do?”

He found himself staring up at the tent’s fabric despite his tiredness. “Is it good enough for you?”

“I suppose it is.”

“Lay him down.”

“I’ll get the water bro.”

“Good.”

He remembered the docks and how on a sunny day the water was always bright, cheery blue.

The tent shook over him. “Think it’ll be enough for you?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Zidane?”

Sunlight scorched into his eyes before something passed over him. He looked up and saw Blank and Marcus hovering above.

“You woke up just in time Zidane,” Marcus said with a laugh. “I was about to wash you awake.”

Zidane sat up, feeling his body shuddering with the effort. “Did I lose any teeth?”

Blank snorted. “Nah, not this time.”

“But I reckon you will if you go back without a wash,” Marcus added and proceeded to dump a bucket of water over Zidane’s head. “Damn you stink. Cinna was right to stay back at the hideout.”

Spluttering Zidane vigorously rubbed the water out his eyes. It was only then that he realised where he was. He smiled despite a second soaking.

The bright blue dock of Lindblum harbour.

Home.

Thanks for reading!