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Orphaned

He's not coming.

The realization that his father would not be at his mother's funeral came near the end, as they stood in the graveyard around the casket. There were plenty of mourners, but few friends; mostly people connected to the Bunansa family through his father's work. All of them were looking at Ffamran with undisguised pity.

He ignored them, instead staring straight ahead at his mother's casket. He'd made all the arrangements for the funeral... his father had locked himself into his chambers, and Ffamran convinced himself that it was out of grief. Cid wasn't working. He couldn't be, not now. So he'd picked out the casket, and the day, and the violet lilies that rested on top. Violet was her favorite color.

Stop staring at me, please... stop...

He had been the one to find her, too. Came home late from a night of drinking and partying with some of his pilot friends to find his mother on the floor in the hallway, dead from a drug overdose. She had been trying to reach the bedroom, he guessed, to lay down and die in her bed.

There had been signs, of course. There had always been signs. His mother hadn't been a very strong person; she'd depended on Cid and Ffamran for support and reassurance and validation. She needed them to give her a reason to exist. But Ffamran grew up, and started his own life, and he couldn't be there for her anymore. And Cid... the eighteen-year-old clenched his fists as the Kilitas finished the prayer. Cid had vanished two years ago, and his father had never returned.

Two years ago, he'd started studying the nethicite. He'd gone on a trip far to the south, and when he came back... everyone had always joked about Cid being a mad scientist, but now the joke was real and it wasn't at all funny. He talked to himself more than his wife or son, and without his attention, she withered away.

I am going to murder him when I get home.

The Kilitas looked in Ffamran's direction. This was the time when family members generally spoke about the departed. His father should be here, talking about his beloved wife. It shouldn't fall to him.

Ffamran stepped forward, refusing to look at anything besides the casket. "This wasn't her fault," he said quietly, not caring if anyone else heard. "I don't blame her. I can't." He sighed and lightly touched the flowers. "I miss you."

He glanced at the Kilitas, who nodded slightly. Ffamran stepped back into the crowd. He wanted nothing more than to run away, but someone had to stay. Someone had be there for her.

The last prayer finished, and the crowd of mourners began to break up into small, chatting groups. Someone laughed, and Ffamran winced at the sound as he walked away.

"Hey, 'Ran."

He turned to see Iridon, one of his friends from the aerodome, standing nearby. "I heard about it earlier today... I'm sorry."

Ffamran sighed. "As am I."

"Your, uh, your father--"

"Don't." Iridon raised his eyebrows at the venom in Ffamran's voice. "I would rather not speak of Doctor Cid at the moment."

Iridon nodded slowly, his expression wary. "Where are you going now?"

"Home." Ffamran walked forward a few steps, his back towards his friend. "I need to start sorting through her belongings... gods know no one else will."

"All right... if you want to get out of the house, or talk, or whatever, just-- let me know, all right? I'll pay for the drinks." Iridon sounded genuinely worried.

Ffamran waved a hand at him dismissively. "Thanks. I'll consider it." He walked away before the conversation could continue, down the path to the private cab he'd rented for the day. "Just take me home," he told the driver, then climbed in and closed his eyes.

+++

"Father?"

The house seemed empty as Ffamran walked inside. He pulled off his coat and threw it on a chair, knowing it would irritate Cid. He glanced into the sitting room and flinched; his mother's embroidery was still sitting on her chair. Shaking his head, he trudged to the stairs.

Two floors up, he found the door to his father's rooms partly open. He could hear Cid talking to himself again. He paused outside the door, listening.

"Yes, yes, it will work out perfectly... assuming that the casing holds, of course. ... Men aspiring to the works of gods. As it should be, true?"

Ffamran pushed open the door and walked inside. Cid was at his desk, and alone.

"Father."

Cid turned towards him, looking irritated. "Haven't I told you to knock before coming in?"

"You are aware that you missed Mother's funeral today." Ffamran's tone was flat, almost casual. He crossed his arms and stared at his father, waiting for an explanation.

"Ah. Yes." For a moment, Cid looked uncomfortable. "I had a meeting with Lord Vayne this morning, and it ran long. I didn't want to arrive late, wouldn't have looked good at all. So I had my best understudy fill in for me, hm?" Cid smiled slightly.

Ffamran shook his head, disgusted. "You failed to go to your wife's funeral because of a meeting?" He ground his teeth together, willing himself to keep his voice under control. Cid held emotions in low regard these days. "I am not your understudy, Father. This is not the theater. This is real, and your wife is dead."

Cid stood abruptly, stalking towards his son and closing the distance between them. "She made the decision to end her life," he said, his voice low. "I can do nothing but respect that decision."

"You killed her!" Ffamran hissed. "You knew she needed you. And you ignored her. You left her alone when you knew how much she needed your attention. Your precious stones and imaginary friends were more important than her."

His father didn't challenge that statement. He stared at Ffamran for a long moment, then turned and went back to his desk. "My meeting with Lord Vayne was about you," he said.

Ffamran blinked, thrown off balance by the sudden change in conversation. "What?"

"He's agreed to let you become a Judge."

It took him a full minute to process the statement. "A Judge?"

"Yes. You'll be my eyes and ears in House Solidor."

"No." Ffamran stared at Cid, aghast. "No, Father, I am joining the Archadian fleet as a pilot, I already--"

"This is a great honor, Ffamran," Cid interrupted. "An honor much higher than that of a pilot, an honor befitting a son of House Bunansa and especially my son."

"You can't do this to me." Ffamran tried desperately to think of some argument, some logic he could present that would change Cid's mind.

"Of course I can," Cid replied. "I have power. I don't need anything else." His hand skated across the dull stones scattered on his desk. "You will be a Judge. That is final."

Ffamran turned and ran from the room, from his father, thundering down the stairs to his bedroom. He slammed and locked the door, noticing something odd in the room as he did so. He turned slowly to see the Judge's armor on a wood mannequin in the corner.

"Gods, no..." he murmured, walking towards the menacing figure. The helmet had strange, crystalline shapes down the sides-- Cid's design, no doubt. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that the meeting with Lord Vayne couldn't have been about his becoming a Judge, not if the armor was already made and delivered, and Cid knew he'd be gone so the armor would be here when he returned--

Ffamran shook his head, cutting short his rampaging thoughts. Only one, crystal-clear idea remained. I have to get out of here.