(A/N): My first time peering into Lenne's character, and also a two year old WIP I managed to pull out from the archives. Inspired by awesomesen's Möbius fanfic. Enjoy!


"Save your tears, I'll be back."

Lenne could still hear him whisper that as he walked out that door, and into a war.

Though Lenne can often recall she never found the strength to speak pass her doubt, she still relives that day, still hears him say, "Wait for me, I'll write you letters."

'What if I said I couldn't wait? Would that have made all the difference?'

The dream has yet to end, for the nightmare remains. Now here he stands before her, one millennium late of his promise and in possession of an innocent's body. A man unfamiliar to her, yet she knows him as the one who leads the lost, who smiles through the hate in his black eyes and raises his hand against his own friends ― all in order to protect the person most precious to him.

"Lenne? We disappeared together, but when I awoke, I was alone. I looked for you for so long…"

Solemn feelings fall alongside light and timid piano keys, superimposing a childlike sadness. This body that embraces her, it belongs to a noble soul, a human soul ― not unlike her beloved, the evil shadow of a thousand years.

Lenne likes this boy, because they share this quiet empathy ― a powerlessness that prevents them freedom to convey real emotion. Be it selfless or selfish, their lips are sealed.

"what can I do for you? what can I do for you? I can't hear you"

They must rely on the voices of others to communicate.

If Lenne closes her eyes, like Yuna does right now, she will remember the dream that mingled with her host's hopes and dreams (and fears). Remembrance traps her in the memory: the hope of a new Yevon, a better system, and the hope for another tomorrow where she comes that much closer to him, one step at a time, one step, one jump, and Yuna runs at full force ―

She runs to embrace him on sun-kissed waters, runs to escape the Bevelle monks hot on their heels, holding his hand so tight her fingers slip off leather and sweat. They arrive at a dead end and behold the cruel limelight, unable to fight their fate when one man instead of a thousand stalks through that dark threshold with gun in hand. His crimson helmet hides his heartless visage as he stops on one knee and takes aim, takes a step back one step at a time, and takes off his mask ―

"Vegnagun must not be touched" "Vegnagun will make that all go away"

"What are you planning to do?" "You must stop!"

"The only thing I can do…" "Suffer!"

It's his face ― "I finally found you" ― Baralai's ― his faraway face, and his cry of bloody murder. Always Baralai, in her nightmares.

His voice echoes in the cataclysm of history, and so does hers.

"The world is changing, and there are many who are finding it difficult to keep up…"

"Although I know the journey will be hard, we have lots of time. Together, we will rebuild Spira. The road is ahead of us, so let's start out today."

"New Yevon wishes to help those who feel lost in the winds of change."

"The people and the friends that we have lost"

"A pleasure, Lady Yuna. I am Baralai"

"and the dreams that have faded"

"Ah. It's not much, but…"

"never forget them"

"Here. Have this as a token of my friendship"

They sound so alike, souls in ever changing harmony with their ideals, they belong together. Their hearts beat to the same drum, Lenne can sense it―the percussions of their broken faith, the strings of their resilient spirit, and the lyrics of their individual swan songs (before the beginning of the next movement called "The Eternal Calm.")

'Whose feelings are these? Lenne's? Mine?'

Lenne wonders that herself.