Farewell, Sir Tristan
Uncreativity

How are you today, Sir Tristan?

I'll bet even bears are miserable living life unloved. I'll bet you're lonely, all by yourself on top of my dresser. At least it's familiar territory, and much better than being stuffed in the chest under my bed, right? You should be grateful.

But you are not, for you are a teddy bear, and therefore unhappy to be so very alone.

Did you think I didn't know that? I of all people understand loneliness -- I just don't care. Even as a child I had no use for such childish things, and I'm not about to start now. Please do not jump to conclusions. My conversing with bears is schizophrenia, not sentiment.

Do you hate me, Sir Tristan, for locking you away all these years? For taking you away from your dearest friend only to loathe you for having been his? I like to envision a world that hates me... so do you?

I lost my eye... how many years ago? I honestly couldn't tell you. Do you remember that, Sir Tristan? How I first got you?

I was in the Infirmary, feeling quite sorry for myself. Or was I angry? I think I was angry -- I never learned self-pity until later. So I was angry. Killing one T-Rexaur wasn't enough -- I wanted them all dead. And why stop there? Why should any monster be left to live? And come to think of it, I could name a few people...

Yeah, a few fuckin' MILLION people.

To make matters worse, it was that arrogant Seifer Almasy who saved my sorry ass. I knew him vaguely -- he was one of Raijin's bastard friends, none of whom I liked on principle. God, but he was smug and snotty, and always playing hero. He strutted in with a stupid, arrogant smile spread like an infectious disease all over his stupid, arrogant face.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

Was there ever a more idiotic question? I'd lost half of my face -- that's how I was doing.

"FINE." Come for the publicity, Mr. Hero? Satisfaction of a job well done? You'd have gotten a better response if you'd've let it kill me.

He sat down on my bed and if he didn't have a Get-Out-of-Rage-Free card for saving my life I would have kicked him. I had not given him permission, and I did not want him there. "You kicked ass," he lied. "You're a good fighter."

"INSUFFICIENT," I growled.

He frowned, but it seemed... forced. Later I would learn that look to mean "I'm amused but I'm trying to hide it."

"Nah -- you just gotta be more careful. Maybe you need someone to watch over you."

I would have demanded he leave, but he had already left, trenchcoat floating behind him. Before I had regained my wits he was back again, carrying an old-looking, overstuffed teddy bear.

You, Sir Tristan.

"This, ah, used t'be mine," he said with a shaky laugh. "We all used'ta have shit like this as kids, right? I thought... well... I don't need him--IT!-- s'like... here!" He held you out with both hands. I did not move.

"I... couldn't..." My entire view of the boy topsy-turvied then and there. It occurred to me maybe I didn't know him so well. Maybe not at all.

"Sure ya can." He laughed. "He ain't happy unless he has someone to protect, and you know he'd rather it be a lady." Seifer winked, then frowned when I did not smile. "It's okay."

So he was adamant. I took you and set you in my lap, and he grinned. I nodded, and that must have been enough of a response because he nodded back, almost like an approving instructor.

Long after he left, I was... awed. What kind of boy went around giving his teddy bears to girls he didn't even know? What kind of boy still had a teddy bear? I decided he probably had a box full of them, ready to give to any available damsel in distress, and set you aside, knowing full well he'd never come back.

But he did come back, and more than once. He seemed irritated, at first, that I did not hug and cuddle you like he must've thought a wounded girl should. Don't get a big head, Sir Tristan -- it was not because he loved you, but because of his disappointment with his damsel.

Mr. Hero.

And yet... talking to him, listening to his stories... slowly but surely I began to believe...

He was a hero.

When I moved back into my dorm room, Sir Tristan accompanied me. I kept you clean, I kept you dry. You lived on top of my dresser and watched all of the two people who stopped by. And you were lonely. I'll bet Seifer used to sleep with you, didn't he? I could never get him to admit it, but I knew that he loved you. I could tell by looking at your stitches, so neatly reinforced where he had torn you, and the slight burn marks, and your acutely mismatched eyes.

He loved you and he hurt you and he got you fixed to love you all over again. He would never bother as much with me. He never loved me... nevernevernever...

But you don't need to hear that, and I don't need to think it.

No one needs such pain.

I put you away long before things truly soured between Seifer and me. We had been fighting... not like now. Back then it was petty and halfhearted squabbles between friends. Now...

We had an argument and I shoved you under my bed. We actually made up the next day, but I didn't bother to pull you out. Never much liked you anyway. I only kept you for his sake.

Are you disappointed, Sir Tristan, never to have brought us together? Does a bear believe that love could close such a chasm? I've learned that only need bridges the gap. Need is the only truth to come from flawed human philosophy. Love and hate are symptoms, mere side effects to the greater powers that are need and pain. To have is to love, to hurt is to hate, and right now I hate Seifer Almasy more than anything.

I don't expect you to understand that. I would not ask a teddy bear to be a cynic.

There was a time when he needed me. He suffered so much, and he would just cry into my shoulder. I was a fool, Sir Tristan. I thought he truly cared about me, that those midnight whisperings were something more than pretty lies so I would stay with him. Seifer Almasy did not need my love -- he needed a teddy bear.

I grew more and more dependent on his affections. An addict in the truest sense of the word. I have killed myself on the inside, unable to bear the torment of knowing...

He does not love me.

So what could I do, Sir Tristan? Too ashamed to stay (I know when I've been used) and yet too weak to go. I chased Raijin away, no help there. I hit rock bottom. I became nothing more than a pathetic, bitter floozy. I hated myself through and through.

I still do.

And one day... I did the right thing. I finally left.

Pulling myself up from the gutter proved to be no easy accomplishment. I've never truly done anything on my own, without at least Raijin in support... but I did this.

A lot has changed since then. Things get better every moment. I await the day that I will become human once more. As for Seifer, he's had another breakdown, or so I've heard. I can't say I feel sorry. There is something in me that will never forgive him, no matter how much I miss him, no matter how much I just want to take him up into my arms again and...

And oh, if I went to him today he'd take me back without hesitation, would make me feel wanted and needed and loved and alive again...

But I will no longer throw away my own soul to supplement his. I cannot save him at my own expense. I'm not his teddy bear, ready to give and give and take on nothing but pain in return.

That's your job, Sir Tristan. May you handle it better than I did. Tomorrow you're going back to your master.

Call it closure.

You're the last thing that ties me to that wretched past, and therefore the only thing that still stands in my way, so...

Farewell;, Sir Tristan. I wish you better luck than I had. Forgive me if I use you tonight... sometimes you need something to hold on to...

And sometimes...

Sometimes, you just need to let go.