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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Isaaru was momentarily stunned. The Aeon proved two things... he wasn't imagining the statue and he wasn't crazy.

As he stood and stared, the Aeon moved on her own, one wing lodging itself into the fiend's mouth while the other bloomed with fire and carved a hot path along the serpent's side.

Blinking, Isaaru drew in a breath and opened his mouth to command-

But he didn't have to. The Aeon wasn't obeying him. She was acting of her own accord.

"Holy shit." Maroda commented inelegantly nearby, the people they were trying to help staring with wide, fearful eyes at the masked apparition. "What IS that?"

"Paine." Isaaru breathed in reply, stepping back.

The serpent rattled its tail again, the sonic vibration causing the Aeon to fall back a few thundering steps. It swooped in to bite, but she brought both wings together and returned the gesture that had knocked her back, sending the fiend flying. It crashed into the wall and let out a screech, hood on its neck flaring as it slithered upwards once more.

Something glittering and purple surrounded the Aeon as the eyes behind the mask narrowed, and as the snake swayed, preparing for another attack, what appeared to be a ghostly image of it was torn away from its body. It swept forward and into the Aeon, the purple glow replaced by green as she healed herself.

Now sagging, the serpent hissed valiantly at the Aeon. Its small, beady eyes moved past the summon to the summoner, Isaaru making a soft noise of distress.

Maroda saw this and stepped forward again, trying to fulfill his role as Guardian. The serpent's eyes glinted red, the invisible wave of power that it lashed out with sweeping past Maroda with enough force to disturb the dirt at his feet. Having brought his arms up to defend against a physical blow, Maroda found they were the first things to stiffen as the fiend's power took hold.

As though the color was bleaching out of him, the Guardian swiftly became a grey and umoving statue, his mouth opening in an attempt to speak before he was silenced by the spell.

Isaaru cried his brother's name, his Aeon turning her head slightly to see what was going on. The snake took the opportunity to dart past her, Isaaru bringing his staff up in front of him and closing his eyes as the fiend bore down on him.

There was a howl and something ploughed the serpent into the ground, perching atop it like a raptor with prey. Isaaru peeked his eyes open and then straightened.

Pyreflies drifted skyward. The fiend's blood stained the statue his brother had become, the Aeon who still stood with masked face turned toward him, the earth of the road, the redrock of the cliff walls and the hem of his heavy robes.
There was a second Aeon crouched where the fiend had been, the great horns on its head curling behind it and heat rising from its great back and shoulders.

"Ifrit." Isaaru murmured, bowing his head in reverence. Pacce moved to his side, putting a hand on his arm.

"Brother! Fix Maroda!" The boy cried, Isaaru flushing and hurrying to cast Esuna on the statue. As Maroda shook his head to clear it, a figure stepped from the shadow of a pillar next to the sea cliff and approached those gathered.
Ifrit turned his head to regard the figure, Isaaru noting it was a woman of indeterminate age.

"Not a very good show." She remarked, Maroda moving to stand next to his brothers with a frown. "That could have had a very messy ending."

"Thank goodness you were here." The middle brother chided, Isaaru giving him a warning look. "We could have-"

"She's new." The woman tersely interrupted. "And Ifrit's quicker. I daresay you couldn't."

"Thank you, my lady." Isaaru breathed, offering the woman a bow. "We owe you a debt of gratitude."

"Hm." Folding her arms, the woman wordlessly dismissed the fiery Aeon and shook her head. "You seem to be lacking control."

"... I don't think so." Isaaru said carefully, his eyes straying to Paine. The Aeon was looking at the woman with a blazing expression in her eyes and Isaaru could almost feel the anger radiating form the being. The summoner felt curiously regretful that he couldn't hear her voice. "As you said, the Aeon is... new."

"And as seemingly tumultuous as the one who sleeps in Baaj." The woman chuckled, Maroda opening his mouth to speak again.

"You can't talk to my brother that way, lady!" Pacce said, planting his hands on his hips. "He's gonna be High Summoner!"

"Is that so?" The woman continued to sound amused. "And are you his Guardian?"

"We both are." Maroda replied coldly. "Who might you be?"

"My name is Belgemine." She bowed after her introduction. "I am a summoner as well, but not one that shares your pilgrimage."

"Oh?" Isaaru frowned. "You don't journey to seek the Final Aeon?"

"Is this yours?" Belgemine gestured to Paine, who shifted slightly more upright. "If so... this is a sad state of affairs."

"Sh-she's not." Isaaru swallowed. "She is just a regular Aeon."

"Nothing regular about an Aeon who acts on their own, without the command of a master." Belgemine arched an eyebrow. "So, if she's not your Final Aeon, why were you shouting about it before you summoned her?"

"I-" Isaaru began, a loud rattling noise issuing forth from the Aeon as she shook her wings. "Um... it was just a-a misunderstanding, that's all. She's the last Aeon I aquired."

He dismissed her. There was a rush of air as she leapt upwards and exploded into pyreflies, drawing a startled look from the other summoner.

"I must say, I've never seen the like of her before." Belgemine murmured. "Do you make for the temple at Djose?"

"Of course." Isaaru replied, Paine's presence in his mind both a relief and a touch of worry. "I am still on a journey, even if you aren't."

"Yes... though I am still journeying, just not to the same end as you." Belgemine gave him an almost appraising look. "I'm looking for someone worthy of the title High Summoner."

"How's that working out for you?" Maroda asked, rolling his shoulders to work out the last of the stiffness from his petrification.

Belgemine smiled, a hint of ice and acid in the gesture. "I'm still looking." She remarked, turning away and moving down the road. "If I were you, I would spend time in the temple praying for strength. If the foes you faced here gave you so much trouble, you don't stand a chance further down the long road to Zanarkand."

Pacce made a rude gesture at the retreating woman's back, Maroda cuffing him lightly upside the head. Isaaru let out a sigh.

/Don't let her get to you./ Paine's voice was cold, and the summoner couldn't help shivering. /She has no right to judge you on your strength./

/Because she's not putting her talents towards bringing the Calm?/ Isaaru nodded at Maroda, who moved to the group they had been trying to protect.

/No. Because she's Unsent. Which means she failed./

...

It was well into the small hours of the morning before they made it to Djose, Maroda bearing the signs of further fighting on the road. Exhausted and wounded, they quickened their pace upon seeing the temple sprawled in the distance.

Isaaru carried a sleeping Pacce on his back, and when the monks took the small party in, the summoner's body protested as he crouched next to the bed in the room at the back of the temple. Once the boy was tucked in, Isaaru sat on the edge of the bed and heaved a sigh.

/Maybe if you took the robes off, it'd be easier to walk./ Paine murmured, making Isaaru laugh softly aloud. /For a guy who travels as much as you, you're awfully out of shape./

/When I was in Bevelle, I lived very comfortably./ Isaaru stifled a yawn. /There wasn't much reason for exercise./

/Until you found out... what you were?/ Paine ventured.

Isaaru made a soft noise and looked down at his robes. /All summoners dress like this, in one way or another. Seymour Guado, the Maester's son. Lord Braska, too.../

/Yeah, I guess you're right. But while it would be fine for cool weather, I don't think it's helping you out much here./

/You're concerned for my well being? Or perhaps you feel I'm moving too slowly.../ Isaaru smiled slightly, looking up when Maroda entered.

"You look pleased with yourself." The younger male remarked, also stifling a yawn. "It's almost morning, I wouldn't exactly consider this leg of the journey cause to celebrate."

"Ah, well. I wasn't thinking about that. It's just nice to sit." Isaaru moved over to make room for his brother. He found himself gazing at Maroda with an appraising eye, and his expression caused the younger man to frown.
"What?" Maroda asked almost accusingly, leaning away. "You alright?"

"Yes. You saw a healer." Isaaru nodded approvingly. "I wish I could have healed you after that last fight."

"You did enough, don't worry." Maroda continued frowning. "Maybe you should get some sleep."

"Soon, I promise. I'd like to go and pray first." Isaaru got up, grimacing at the effort it took. It seemed like tonight he would be praying on his feet.

"If you say so. I'll stay and watch Pacce." Maroda's eyes remained fixed on him as he moved backwards to the door. "Be safe."

"Of course." /Paine?/

/Mhm?/

/Do you find my brother attractive?/ Isaaru eased the carved door shut behind him and moved to the antechamber.

/Uh... I think he's... capable? This is sort of out of nowhere. Why are you asking?/ Paine's tone wasn't quite exasperation, but Isaaru could sense the unspoken 'I don't want to talk about this.'

/Because you were staring at him back there./ Isaaru stopped in front of the statue of Lord Braska, the last summoner to defeat Sin. His palms were sweating, so he dragged them over the fabric of his robes before bowing to the holy figure before him.
/I wasn't staring./ Paine stated bluntly after a moment of silence.

/Admiring then?/ Isaaru breathed a sigh, unable to pray while carrying on an inward conversation but wanting to give the illusion that he was so they wouldn't be interrupted.

/No. It's sort of a pointless thing considering I have no body and I exist mostly in your head, Isaaru./ It sounded as though her teeth would be clenched if she had them.

/But you used my eyes to look at him. Like you were... sizing him up or something./ Isaaru tried to judge her emotions through the strange bond they shared. She was suddenly very guarded.

/It's not what you think. Your brother handles himself very well in battle. It's the first chance I've had to really look at him. That's all./ Paine's voice now felt very prickly.

/Even if that weren't the case, I wouldn't judge you, just.../ He felt his cheeks flush. /Please, either warn me next time or try not to do it while he's looking./

He stood for a moment in silence, realizing with a start that her voice and presence were gone. It seemed a good time to pray, so that's what he set about doing.

...

It was a mortal reaction, one that could be expected from a young woman, but not one that should have been given by a Fayth.

Paine retreated, fled in a better sense of the situation, and when she was safe inside the Farplane Glen, she cursed herself for storming away like a child.

"It wasn't like that... stupid men." She grumbled. Leaning against one of the few trees in the field, she heaved a sigh.

Like this would be a good place to hide... there were questions here that were probably more bothersome than Isaaru's.

Still... the summoner probably didn't want her spying on his prayers.

Closing her eyes, Paine waited in the relative silence and solitude. It wouldn't take them long to find her, the other Fayth, and until they did, she was going to calm herself down.

His questions had come from seemingly nowhere, but she should have been thankful his reaction wasn't more severe. She had, after all, taken subtle control of his body. Just his eyes... but it had been effortless, almost unconscious. Obviously, though her time flowed differently and it felt as though she had been a Fayth for years, her mortal memories were still close to the surface.

"Getting so involved is dangerous." A small voice said from her left, Paine opening her eyes slowly. "You shouldn't talk to him like that. You may cause him to go mad, take him off his path."

"Isaaru's stronger than you give him credit for." She replied, looking down at what appeared to be a young boy in a hooded shirt. Unlike many of the others that appeared in the Glen, he was solid seeming and didn't flicker like a bad sphere transmission. Despite his youth, he wa slike her... a spirit without a body that could be summoned forth to become a powerful Aeon. He was the winged dragon Bahamut, and his small size belied his strength. "You should know that better than most. I believe you were his first, weren't you?" Paine continued, twitching an eyebrow.

"I was. His faith is strong, but that doesn't mean his mind and body are." Bahamut smiled in a manner that suggested he knew something she didn't.

Paine wanted to punch the look off his face.

"I don't have a choice." She said, Bahamut tilting his head to the side.

"But you must. We are born of our choice to give our spirits from our still living bodies." The smaller Fayth said. "That means you chose to be here. And it means you are consciously choosing to interfere."

"I didn't make the choice to die." Paine folded her arms. "I told you that already. I was killed... I came here. But I was also there, in that statue. Half existing. Mute. Drifting. Like all the others who came here before me."

"Those who passed on without the help from a summoner." Bahamut murmured.

"So, I repeat, I have no choice. When Isaaru prayed at that statue, it was like the world came back into focus." Paine looked away from him. "All of a sudden, I understood what I was. I don't know how I ended up that way. There was no chance for me to make a choice."

"You're young. You're new. You'll understand in time." Bahamut's tone was probably supposed to be encouraging. Paine's urge to strike him only grew. "We all got here the same way, and here is where we'll stay. The cycle will go on and on, unless-"

"Unless your hairbrained, ill timed plan comes to pass?" Another voice called, both Paine and Bahamut looking across the field at an approaching figure. The latter pulled his mouth into a thin line while the former regarded the newcomer with curiosity. "Quit your preaching, boy. She's too smart to be coerced."

"And you are?" Paine asked, smirking. She was thankful for the interruption, and the newcomer was a far more interesting person than Bahamut seemed.

"A swordsman like yourself." The figure stopped a few feet away and looked down at Bahamut from behind a stylized bird mask. "Don't you have other people to bother?"

"Am I being a bother?" Bahamut asked, scowling. "I'm not the one interrupting a private conversation."

"And I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner." This comment was directed at Paine, who made a soft noise of approval. "Why don't we go somewhere else? Somewhere less stupid."

"That sounds fine to me. See you later, pint-size." Paine straightened and moved after the man. A glance over her shoulder showed her Bahamut staring after their retreating figures. "So, what's this about?"

"He and the others think they have everything figured out." The man scoffed. "They're trying to kill Sin for good... they thought they had a way to break the cycle of rebirth but they failed. Some situations don't call for the rule of 'if at first you don't succeed...'"

"So, they're going for round two of a plan that probably won't work. He was trying to recruit me back there?" Paine asked, the man giving her a grin.

"I told him you were too smart." He said with a laugh. "By the way, I'm Yojimbo."

"Fitting." Paine murmured. "You can call me Paine."

"I already know your name." He informed her. "You're well known here, in some circles."

"...why?" Paine frowned, following him still.

"Because we needed a plan B." He said quietly in return.

...

The next two days were spent recovering from the trip and the battles. They were spent purchasing new supplies and surprisingly, new clothing for both Isaaru and Pacce. The funds that were used in this particular purchase were earned back in part by Isaaru performing services for the sudden influx of people that were entering the temple.

Rumors were spreading of an operation to be carried out by the Crusaders, an operation to defeat Sin without the use of summoners. Maroda listened to what people were saying, deciding what was and wasn't safe to relay to his brother.

If there was a way, any way at all that they could change the outcome of this pilgrimage... short of miracles, Maroda wasn't sure if it was possible, but the hope was enough to make him silently cheer the Crusaders on.

"They have Sinspawn out there in cages." Isaaru told him just before they retired on the second day to sleep. "Some of the men... tending to it were poisoned today. I made a few gil healing them."

"Must be part of the operation." Maroda observed. "I think they're going to lure Sin in."

Isaaru would have normally said something about performing his duties as a summoner, or quoted the teachings or even said something about how things would have been different if Lord Braska were alive, but instead he simply regarded Maroda with a cool and very alien expression and said nothing.

He then grew withdrawn. Maroda watched him sit on their borrowed bed and close his eyes. Subtle changes in his face made it clear that the eldest brother was carrying on a silent conversation with himself, something that had been happening with alarming frequency since the incident at Mi'ihen when Isaaru had stated he was worried he was losing his mind.

"I'd like to do the trial tomorrow, if it's not too much of a burden." Isaaru said softly, Maroda gazing at him.

"Why would you say something like that?" He asked, Isaaru looking almost startled. "I'm your Guardian. Any burden you bear, I do as well to the best of my abilities. 'Protect the summoner, even at the cost of one's own life,' remember?"

"You follow the code well, but what about your faith, Maroda? Do you believe in my cause? My religion?" Isaaru's hands contracted on his robes, his eyes flashing.

"You're acting out of sorts. You know where I stand, brother." Maroda drew himself up. "My belief is in you. In your strength. In your resolve. It always has been."

Isaaru was silent once more, but he didn't look away, their gazes locked.

"Out of sorts?" The older male murmured.

"Since we left the highroad, you've been in a daze. I don't know what happened in that cave, but it's changed you." Maroda turned and moved across the room to their things. After shifting aside a few bags, he straightened with what he had been searching for in his grip.

"What are you doing?" Isaaru asked, getting to his feet.

"Something I should have done in Mi'ihen." Maroda frowned. "I'm selling the sword. Passing whatever curse is on it to someone else."

"You can't!" Isaaru growled very uncharacteristically, taking a step forward.

"Why not? You need to make up the rest of the money you spent on clothes you're not even wearing. And if you're not going to use this thing, it's just extra baggage that we don't need." Maroda replied coldly.

"It's not yours." Isaaru' voice had grown a touch quieter, a bit flatter even. "You can't do that."

"Maybe you and I can reach a compromise." Maroda squared his shoulders. "You tell me what you saw in that cave and I'll give this back."

"Maroda-"

"Cause unless you tell me what the hell is going on, this sword is gone. GONE. And hopefully with it, all of our problems!"

"It's not the sword!" Isaaru cried, eyes welling up with tears. "It's her! It's her, she's in me like all the others, but it's different! I can hear her in my head! Getting rid of the sword will do nothing to stop this!"

Maroda froze. This was his brother he was talking to now. The desperate pleading, the tears, the terrified hand gestures... this was Isaaru.

And the 'she' he was shouting about could be no one but the mysterious Aeon that Isaaru had summoned on the road.

"I told you... when we crossed the Calmlands, I told you." Maroda whispered. "I told you to be careful. That your powers were too strong for your own good! Your faith! Your beliefs! I thought you would have learned that in the gorge that day! We almost lost you there, you think you would have learned!!"

"You have no idea what it's like." Isaaru gasped. "The pull, the call, the whispers... you don't believe in Yevon, so you don't shoulder the need for salvation that comes with it."

"If worshipping a god that punishes his people with a never ending cycle of death paves a road to salvation, Isaaru, then I'm happier as a heretic!" Maroda shouted. "I never wanted this for you! I never wanted you to go through this!"

"I didn't have a choice!" Isaaru's voice cracked. "When you hear the call, the hymn resonates with the screams of the dead! It's too big, it's too much to ignore! We're told our suffering will bring the Calm... if the Calm can silence the screaming for those that will follow in my footsteps, then I will gladly die for them."

"That sounds an awful lot like a choice to me." Maroda sneered, looping the sword through his belt. "Stay here until I get back. It's too dangerous for you to be out wandering."

"What are you going to do?" Isaaru asked again, Maroda turning his back.

"I'm going for a walk. I can't think in here. It's too stifling." Maroda took in a breath. "You sure you're the one who wants to do the trial? Or is it her?"

"I'm a summoner, it's my duty-" Isaaru began.

"Then as your Guardian, I'm obligated to guard you. To protect you." Maroda put his hand on the sword. "Whatever happens to this is for your own good."

He left before Isaaru could protest any further, shutting the stone door behind him.

Chapter Text

/Go stop him!/

"Stop him?" Isaaru gasped, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

/That's MY sword!/

"I never wanted this for you, he said." Isaaru groaned, sinking onto the bed. "Well, of course he didn't. Who would want to stand by and watch his brother die?"

/Isaaru.../

"I should have listened. I never should have prayed at that statue. I should have left that sword at the bottom of the ocean." Isaaru's breath heaved. "I got myself into this mess."

/Go get my sword back./

"No." Isaaru whispered. "I can't. He said-"

/Snap out of it!/

"I should have listened to him when we were in that gorge. I should never have prayed at that statue."

/Are you talking about Yojimbo?/

Isaaru blinked, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Paine was registering concern under the hot and prickly anger.

"At first, I thought he was angry about all the gil I spent." He breathed. "But Maroda was worried about me. Neither of us could have expected this to happen. But I should have listened to him."

/Are you losing it?/

"Haven't I already?" He asked with a laugh.

/Think, Isaaru. Don't speak./ Paine urged. /The sword is proof you're not crazy. You have to get it back./

"B-but-"

"Isaaru?" Pacce's voice said gently, the summoner jerking as if struck and looking down. "Um... who're you talking to?"

"I was just..." Isaaru took a breath and let it out slowly, staring with wide eyes at his brother. "I was talking to..."

"Sounded more like you were arguin'." Pacce rubbed the back of his leg with his foot and looked away. "Did you and Maroda have another fight?"

"N-no, we had a-"

"A disagreement?"

"Yes, Pacce. Everything will be fine."

/Will it?/ He asked inwardly, speaking more to himself this time. Paine didn't deign to answer, and Isaaru got to his feet.

"We're going to do the trial tomorrow, Pacce. Make sure you're ready for it, hm?" He tried his best to sound like himself, and Pacce's innocense meant he was rewarded with a brave smile. "I'm going to talk with our brother. You guard our things."

"Roger!" Pacce chirped, Isaaru ruffling the boy's dark hair before leaving the room to try and track his brother down.

...

"Hello there, fellas." Maroda smirked at the group that he approached, the four individuals looking towards him with curious detachment. "Any of you interested in a blade to help with the operation?"

"Something special about it?" One of the men asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm glad you asked. You see-" Maroda began, someone taking hold of his arm from behind. He turned, half expecting it to be Isaaru, but instead found himself gazing down at an Al Bhed man with an eyepatch and a flamboyant outfit.

"Yeah, I see." The man murmured, leaning up so his face almost touched Maroda's. "Ooobviously a very special sword. Makahtyno, even."

Stepping back, Maroda frowned. "Um, what, exactly, does that mean?"

"Legendary, my fine friend." The Al Bhed smiled broadly. "How about we go over there and talk business?"

Glancing at where the Al Bhed was pointing, Maroda felt more than a hint of uncertainty. "Why not here?" He asked.

"I don't want anyone offering you a better deal." The Al Bhed folded his arms. "How about it, pnudran?"

"I'm not terribly fluent in Al Bhed. And I'm a summoner's guardian, the church might-" Maroda protested, the Al Bhed making a disgusted noise.

"Your Maester's are funding our operation, pnudran. I don't think they'll mind a little side business, especially if it makes things go smoother." The Al Bhed gave him an expectant look. "You got my interest in that sword there piqued. How about we step over there and talk prices?"

"Fine." Maroda lifted his chin. "Let's go."

They moved off a little ways, Maroda casting glances around while trying not to appear too suspicious. He had thought Isaaru would come after him, but the summoner was nowhere to be seen.

"So, who are you?" He asked the Al Bhed, who looked over his shoulder but didn't speak. They moved to an area behind the temple, and it was then that the Al Bhed stopped, turning towards him. "... no answer?"

"I'd like to ask you something before answering your question." The Al Bhed said softly, lowering his eyes. "That sword..."

"That's what this is about yes." Maroda reached down and put his hand on the hilt of the sword, but before his fingers could close around it, the Al Bhed surged towards him. One arm pressed into Maroda's throat, he used his weight to drive the taller man backwards and into the rock wall. "H-hey!"

"Where did you get it?!" The Al Bhed snarled, green eye blazing with fury. "Where did you get that sword?!"

"What?" Maroda's eyes widened.

"Oui cdibet pycdynt!" The Al Bhed clenched his fists and snarled. "That sword belonged to a friend of mine... now where did you get it?!"

"I found it!" Maroda gripped the Al Bhed's arm, leaning his head away. "By the Rest Stop in Mi'ihen!"

The Al Bhed hissed. "Give it to me. I won't stand by and just let you sell it to the highest bidder!"

"If you want it, take it!" Maroda struggled to get free, the Al Bhed letting up the pressure and stepping back. "It's cursed or something."

"Oh?" The Al Bhed's brows knit. "What do you mean?"

"... My brother picked it up first. Since then, he's been talking to himself and I'm worried it's driven him insane." Maroda drew the sword from his belt, looking down at it. "So please, take it."

The Al Bhed stared, then slowly reached out a hand. "I'm-"

"Wait! Stop!" Isaaru's voice cried out, the summoner rushing into view, breathless and sweating. "Don't take it!" He gasped, throwing out a hand.

"Isaaru, I told you to stay in the temple." Maroda snapped. "And this man knows who the sword belonged to."

"Of course he does." Isaaru panted for breath, one hand clutching at his own chest. He was starting to look a little grey. "Gippal. Don't take it. Please."

"Huh... I don't think we've met." The Al Bhed remarked with a frown. "You would be?"

"I-Isaaru. A summoner. I know Paine!" The older male cried, collapsing to his knees. "Yevon help me, I shouldn't have been running like that."

"Here, lemme help." The Al Bhed, Gippal, reached into his bag and pulled out a small blue bottle. "Hold still."

Isaaru did as he was told, and Maroda watched in bewilderment as Gippal unstoppered the bottle and tipped its contents into the summoner's mouth.

Isaaru had a natural distrust of Al Bhed. The people didn't believe in Yevon, and they made a habit, even a living out of using forbidden machina. There were increasing rumors of them attacking people viciously and zealously.

Gippal, however, he was treating with unconditional trust.

"How do you know her? Is she alive?" Gippal whispered, Isaaru's face falling. "Po dra kutc... she didn't make it?"

"I'm so sorry." Isaaru breathed, his color looking better now. "A-and thank you."

"Yeah." Gippal sighed, looking away. "Yeah, no problem."

"I need to keep it. The sword." Isaaru gazed at him in desperation. "She wants it to stay close."

"I don't get it." Gippal stepped back again. "What are you-"

"I told you!" Maroda cut in. "That sword's made him go nuts!"

"And I told you, it's not the damn sword, Maroda!" Isaaru reached up and grabbed Maroda's wrist. "Will you just stop and listen?"

"Listen to more nonsense?" Maroda growled, jerking away.

"It's not, though..." Isaaru intoned exasperatedly. "Bmayca."

Maroda stared in shock, then looked accusingly at Gippal. The Al Bhed looked shocked as well, and simply shrugged.

"It's NOT nonsense. Look, I don't know how it happened, but Paine is one of the Fayth!" Isaaru looked at Gippal, whose eyes widened, a look of intense confusion crossing his face. "She's one of them, and she's with me like all the others."

"And the sword?" Gippal asked.

"She says it has to stay close to me." Isaaru sagged, lowering his eyes. "It's important."

"Riiight." Gippal dragged his fingers through his hair. "There anyway to prove all that?"

"I don't know." Isaaru reached out and took the sword from Maroda, the blade's tip dropping immediately to the ground. "But I am NOT insane."

"Say." Gippal turned and looked at Maroda again. "Has he always been able to speak Al Bhed?"

"My brother's a summoner. What do you think?" Maroda replied in a testy manner, Gippal holding his hands up and shaking his head.

"That may be proof he's not jerking us both around. I mean... unless he's been sneaking about and reading Primers in his spare time." Gippal mused, Maroda letting out a growl.

"Oh come on! That's not proof!" He cried. "He's a quick learner and there are Al Bhed all over the place!"

"Gippal, you wanted to be a Crusader, but they turned you away because of what you are." Isaaru said quickly. "You heard about open recruitment for something called the Crimson Squad and ended up on a team with three other people. One of those people was Paine." The Summoner put a hand to his head and hissed softly between clenched teeth. Maroda reached for him in concern, Isaaru holding up a hand. “I’m alright. She’s just very excited to see Gippal.”

“She can see me?” Gippal asked, eyebrows arching.

“She sees what I see. Hears what I hear.” Isaaru lowered his hand slowly. “This isn’t the best place to talk. Let’s go back to the temple. You can tell us the story.”

...

Isaaru was thankful for the tea his brother brewed for him, and as he watched Gippal converse animatedly with Pacce, he felt not only himself beginning to settle, but Paine as well.

/Partner?/ He asked, the Fayth tearing her attention from the Al Bhed to focus on him.

/No. Friend. We served together./ She said in reply, Isaaru sighing gently. /He’ll tell the story better than me. He’s always been a good talker./

/You two seem like you were close./

/We were./ Isaaru’s chest tightened at Paine’s words, and he found it increasingly difficult not to stare at the Al Bhed man. Gippal stood, patting Pacce on the head and turning to face him. Their gazes met easily, Isaaru finding it strange that all the stigmas surrounding the Al Bhed people seemed moot in Gippal’s presence. He figured it was Paine’s doing.

“Hey, why don’t you go and play with those cute little nuns?” Maroda asked Pacce, who grinned and nodded eagerly. “Good boy. I’ll come get you later, okay?”

“Okay!” The boy hurried off, the stone door closed behind him, then Maroda turned to regard the Summoner and their unexpected guest.

After a pause, Gippal turned very abruptly on his heel and approached Maroda. The taller male instinctively backed away when the Al Bhed got into his personal bubble, a look of panic on his face. “Guess the floor is mine.” Gippal said with a smile. “So, what do you boys want to know?”

Isaaru opened his mouth to speak, but Maroda interrupted almost immediately. “How did you know she was dead?”

Gippal’s expression twisted slightly and he leaned away from the taller man. “I was with her when it happened.” He stated. “Like Isaaru said... myself, two others, and her.” He looked away. “We had just finished an operation. A disasterous one. No one survived but us four. And, as it turns out, only three of us really got out.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” Maroda arched an eyebrow, folding his arms and resolutely refusing to move from his spot.

“Our friend,” Gippal closed his eye briefly, glancing over at Isaaru as if asking him to continue.

“Nooj.” The Summoner found himself saying, the Al Bhed chuckling before turning back to face Maroda.

“Yeah, that guy. We called him a Deathseeker, but that day he became something else. You ever looked at someone’s face only to see that their face isn’t their own?” He asked, Maroda giving him a funny look before shaking his head. Isaaru understood what Gippal was describing thanks to Paine’s memories. “It wasn’t Nooj that killed Paine. It was whoever got inside him during the operation.”

“How did it happen?” Maroda asked, his tone a little more gentle. Isaaru found the response drowned out by the sound of gunfire in his head. “...but you survived it.”

Gippal stepped back, reaching up to pull aside his clothing to reveal a vivid scar on his chest. “Not without a hell of a way to remember it. And a long, long time trying to recover. Lucky for me, it happened outside the rest stop.”

“The Al Bhed took you in.” Maroda confirmed, Gippal nodding. “And the others?”

“They said someone came and took Baralai back to Bevelle. He’s a monk or something.” The Al Bhed waved a hand dismissively. “No one knew where Nooj or Paine ended up. I hoped she had made it out alive.” Gippal said, the tightness in Isaaru’s chest becoming too much to bear.

“She fell into the water.” The Summoner said. “And that’s where she-”

“Gave her soul to Yevon.” Gippal remarked, folding his arms and looking away. “Never knew she had it in her.” There was an air of finality to his words, and Maroda stood a little straighter, unable to look at either of them.

“I’m gonna go get Pacce. You should rest, brother.” He said, moving to the door. “We’re doing the trial in the morning, after all.”

Gippal watched him go, then glanced at Isaaru briefly. There was a curious tension in the air. The Summoner stood, approaching the other male, opening his mouth to speak. He found that words failed him, especially when his arm moved of its own accord. He lay his hand over the remains of the wound on Gippal’s chest, the Al Bhed merely twitching a brow and meeting his eye again.

“How long?” Isaaru’s voice croaked, fingers clumsily gripping fabric.

Gippal hesitated, closing his fingers over Isaaru’s in a firm but understanding gesture. “Seven months to recover. Another three to travel here from Home.”

“More than a month, less than a year.” Isaaru felt himself whisper, tears crowding his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” Gippal shifted his grip, his fingers sliding over Isaaru’s. “Paine...”

“We’ll find him.”

There was a long pause, the two... three of them standing in silence. Gippal tightened his grip, then pulled Isaaru’s hand free and stepped back.

“No, you won’t.” He said, Isaaru frowning. “Because you have a journey to make. A different one.”

“It wasn’t my choice.” Isaaru’s voice said, a desperate note to his words. “I don’t know why this happened, but I NEVER asked for it.”

“I believe you.” Gippal’s response was dual layered. His intense gaze held Isaaru’s for a long moment, seeming to look into him, through him. “Now get some rest. There are things to do.”

By the time Maroda got back, Isaaru was fast asleep on the bed.

In the glen, Paine wasn’t weeping. Instead, she was waiting with a steely determination for the others to arrive.

She needed some answers.