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Of all the sunsets Tidus had seen in Spira, the ones in the Calm Lands were far and away the most spectacular. Above the plains, the sky was dizzyingly vast, and the bright blue of daytime had given way to brilliant, melting shades of saffron and scarlet and rose, the few drifting clouds touched with violet. In the distance the sea - never very far away in Spira - was a dark line against the vivid sky, and the land fell towards it, rolling in hills and slopes, or stepping away in sheer cliffs. Sitting at the edge of one of those cliffs, Tidus sort of wished he had a sphere with him, just so he could preserve this moment, but though a sphere would be able to catch the image, he knew it could never capture the feeling of it. He’d always noticed the sunsets in Spira. They always felt so different to the ones in Zanarkand, and now at last he understood why. Zanarkand sunsets - his sunsets - had been composed from the memories of the dead, coloured and embellished by nostalgia and longing. An ideal, no more, a dream overdue to end.“So here you are.”Auron’s low voice broke through his reverie, and Tidus turned round to see him standing just a few paces off. He always had that knack, Tidus thought, of coming up on someone just when they least expected it.He grinned. “Missing me already?”Auron chose not to dignify his quip with a response, and replied instead, “You’ve been gone a long time. The others were starting to become worried.”Automatically, Tidus glanced back, though he knew that from here the travel agency was hidden from view by the slight rise of a hillock.“Oh,” he said.With an uncomfortably penetrating look over the rim of his glasses, Auron went on: “Yuna thinks you’re hiding something from her.”Hearing this, Tidus’ insides gave a guilty lurch. He heaved a loud sigh and hung his head. “Yeah,” he muttered at his boots. “I know.”All the way to Zanarkand, his whole mind had been taken up with the problem of how to save Yuna. Now that problem was solved and Yuna was alive, and it was his own sacrifice that now loomed in front of him. He’d already accepted it, but he still hadn’t worked out the right way to break it to the others - especially Yuna. He never would be able to show her Zanarkand now.“It’s just hard,” he said, “all this waiting around.”Somehow he sensed Auron wasn’t exactly convinced by this excuse, but he went along with it for now. “It will take some time for word about the hymn to spread, and until we’re ready to face Sin. The best thing we can do is—”“Lemme guess,” Tidus broke in, “prepare?”Auron hmphed, but didn’t seem to resent the dig too much. In fact, he closed the last few paces between them, and came to sit beside him. As he did, Tidus couldn’t help but notice how heavily he sat, like a man who has dragged some inhumanly heavy burden for miles, and wants only to be home so he can lay it down at last.They sat there in silence for a few moments, until Auron said, “There’s something else.”“No pulling the wool over your eyes, huh?” But where he didn’t know what to say to the others, somehow it was easy to tell Auron, at least. “You know the truth about Zanarkand - my Zanarkand - right?”Auron nodded. “Yeah.”“So you know what’s gonna happen once we take down Yu Yevon.”Softly: “I know.”“You know, I’m not mad about it.” Not so very long ago, he knew, he would’ve been, probably would’ve kicked up a fuss and loudly protested against the unfairness of it all. But that was before. He had come a long way since then. “I mean, I’m scared, sure, but I’m grateful really. It’s kind of a relief to know the truth. Sin’ll be defeated once and for all, Spira will be saved, and Yuna will be safe. That’s worth any sacrifice, you know?”A real sacrifice, this time. One that would actually mean something, not just some false hope thrown out to keep a terrified population under control.Auron bowed his head. “I know. It was a feeling I shared once, long ago. I would have gladly lain down my own life, if it only meant Braska didn’t have to lay down his.”He said no more than that, but all at once, Tidus caught at the truth that hovered there, unspoken, and his eyes widened. “Oh… oh!” He sat back, momentarily floored. But on second thought, was it really that much of a surprise? He’d seen the shades of Auron and Yuna’s old man in Zanarkand, seen all of Auron’s desperation to keep Braska from going to his death. Even then, he’d felt it as a pain in his own heart, because it had been such an exact echo of his own desperation to save Yuna. Exact in every way.Auron’s face was turned away, his expression - as always - hidden; but the pain and regret seemed to come off him in waves, and Tidus’ heart clenched.“Man,” he said, “that’s tough.” And nearly winced at how lame the words sounded.Auron clearly thought so too, because the look he now sent him was pretty sardonic. “Thank you for your condolences.”“Whatever,” he muttered, flushing a little before he laughed it off. “I just never had you down as the romantic type, is all.”Auron raised an eyebrow. “And why shouldn’t I be?”Tidus shrugged, and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I dunno. I guess you’ve always just seemed so gruff and mysterious.”He’d always kind of liked that about Auron, though. He’d been so different from anyone else in Zanarkand (for obvious reasons, he now realised), and growing up, Tidus had found him all kinds of fascinating. He remembered how all the other kids had been in awe of him too. “Whoa, Tidus, your dad’s friend is so cool!” How many times had he heard that? Secretly, he’d always been quite pleased to hear it, even if he always laughed and let slip the damning secret that his dad’s cool friend barely had any idea how to work a TV remote.But that was before Spira, before he’d learned the depths of self-hatred Auron concealed behind his stoic, mysterious front. Before he’d watched the shade of Auron’s younger self throw his life away in one catastrophic moment of grief and rage.“Does it bother you?” Auron asked. His voice was carefully toneless, and he didn’t look at Tidus, almost as if - well, almost as if he was afraid to see Tidus’ reaction. As if he was afraid what Tidus would think, now that all the vulnerabilities behind the mask (the weaknesses, as he probably saw them) had finally been laid bare.“No!” Tidus rushed to reassure him. “No way! I’m… I’m glad you told me.”“You are?”“Sure. I feel like I get you a bit better now.”“And that’s important to you?” He sounded as if he could hardly believe it. “’Course! We’ve known each other a long time, after all.”Auron’s expression was as hard to gauge as ever, but Tidus definitely saw a lessening of tension in his face, which might just have been a smile. “Yes. A long time.”That was what had made Tidus glad to have Auron here with him throughout this whole journey, even during all those times that he’d been ready to blow a gasket, when Auron obviously knew more than he was letting on. He was the one constant link Tidus still had between Zanarkand and Spira, something that seemed dependable and real, even when everything else still felt like some crazy dream. An old bond which had only grown stronger and gone through so many subtle shifts, as they’d both come to see how much they really had in common. And it was why it suddenly felt so important to say something now:“You didn’t fail them, you know.”Auron looked at him.“You didn’t fail them,” Tidus repeated. “They both knew what they were doing, my old man and Yuna’s. We all saw your memories in the ruins. You couldn’t have stopped them. You said my old man had a plan, and I know he’d never leave off any boneheaded idea he had, once he’d gotten it in his head. And if Yuna’s dad was anything like her, I don’t think there’s much could make him change his mind, either. The important thing is, you kept your promise to them, and we’re gonna finish what they started. The game isn’t over - this is just the second half!”At first, Auron seemed about to roll his eyes at the metaphor, but then he glanced up, and Tidus had that same sense of a softening in his expression.“Thanks.”Tidus smiled back. “No prob.”For a little while longer, they sat there in silence, both of them looking out towards the sunset and the distant sea, whose murmuring could just be heard over the rush of the wind here on the cliff. Even at this distance, there was a lacing of sea-salt on the air, and he could taste it sharp on his tongue whenever he breathed in. When he turned his head he could see, some ways to the south, a faint glinting on the horizon, where the crystalline treetops of Macalania caught the last rays of the sun and threw them back to the sky. This was the Spira he’d come to know: so different from his own world, but vibrant with its own colours and sounds and sensations. And they were going to save it. That thought was more than enough to settle his own fears at what lay ahead for him.“I wonder what it’ll be like,” he mused, “at the end.”Auron didn’t even seem to hear him at first; but then in a low voice, he said, “It will be good to rest.”“Yeah,” said Tidus, with a quick glance at his face, “I guess so.”That was something else they had in common too, he thought. Here they both were, where neither one of them really should be. Both shadows, really, put together from no more than pyreflies and memories. Beside him, he could feel Auron’s weariness, his longing to be at peace at last, and it raised a strange ache somewhere deep inside himself, as if the fayth who had dreamt him up recognised that weariness and yearned for their own rest.“It’s been a long road,” said Auron, “for both of us.”“Yeah. It has.”He was grateful, too, that just as Auron had been there at the start of his journey, he was sitting with him now. Without thinking, he reached out and laid his hand on Auron’s arm. It was the first time he’d ever done it, and he could feel warmth through the thick red fabric of Auron’s sleeve, a warmth that even death hadn’t been able to extinguish. He raised his eyes to meet Auron’s, looking steadily back at him. For a second or two the space between them seemed to stretch out forever, heady with a shared awareness of all that had passed between them, and with all that was still left unspoken. There was no need to speak now: everything was understood.At last, softly, Auron said, “You should return to Yuna. She will need you before the end.”Tidus swallowed and, slowly, drew his hand back. “Yeah. You’re right.” He only realised how long he’d been sitting there when he got to his feet and felt the complaining of his cramped muscles. Stretching his arms and legs, he asked, “What about you?”“I will stay here a little longer,” said Auron. “I have the feeling our wait is about to come to an end very soon.”“I think so too,” said Tidus. He could feel it in the air: a strange, oppressive undercurrent, like the change of pressure that comes before a thunderstorm. Sin was close, probably just over the horizon. His old man was waiting for him and soon, maybe even tomorrow, Cid would come back with the airship to pick them up, ready for the final showdown.“Well,” he said, flashing Auron a grin, “see ya on the other side!”Auron said nothing, only gave a single nod, but it was enough. So Tidus left him, brushing through the long grass until he reached the top of the rise and the travel agency came back into view. He only looked back once, and saw Auron still sitting there by the cliff, framed by the burning heart of the sun as it sank beneath the horizon and evening drew on towards night.