"So, does she know yet?"

Gippal winced. "No," he sighed, "she doesn't."

"We'd probably better tell her. Sooner the better. I've put it off too long already. Shoulda brought her up knowing, more like. Woulda been better off establishin' boundaries early, huh?" Cid's mug clanked down noisily on the table, and he hailed a passing server.

"I don't think anyone coulda ever kept that girl from doing anything she'd set her mind to." Gippal downed the last of his beer, handing the empty mug over to the server. "Bring us another round, would ya?"

"If she'd known-"

"It wouldn'ta changed a thing, Cid, and you know it."

"Yeah, well, it don't hurt none to dream." He sighed. "So when're you gonna tell her?"

"Me?" Gippal blanched. "When did the 'we – me' switch come about? It's sure as hell not my fault!"

"Well, son," Cid clapped Gippal on the back. "She's your problem now, that's fer damn sure."

"Hey, old man, you can't just stick me with this whole mess. I swear, if you even try, I'll tell her whose idea it was in the first place." Gippal glared for all he was worth.

Cid relented reluctantly. "Fine, fine, I'll tell her. But ya know she's still gonna come after ya sooner or later."

"Yeah, and she'll probably be after my blood. D'ya think it'll do me any good to tell her it wasn't my idea?" Gippal looked hopeful.

"Naw." Cid kicked back in his chair, propping his boots up on the table to the chagrin of the bar owners – though they would not go so far as to openly rebuke the leader of the Al Bhed. "She'll probably try ta kill ya just for the hell of it."

Gippal smiled wryly. She was damn good with those daggers of hers, a lesson he'd learned in the way of two clean, neat scars down the insides of his forearms from the time he'd snuck up behind her and put his arms around her. She'd cross-drawn her blades from the inside, slicing smoothly through cloth and flesh, and even the resultant quick trip to the infirmary hadn't lost him the scars. He'd never startled her again.

"Maybe you should hide her daggers. I'm getting slow in my old age."

"Shut yer trap, boy. Twenty-one ain't anything close to ancient." Cid scowled.

"So how're we gonna tell her?" Gippal wisely left Cid's comment alone. The old coot was getting a little touchy as he aged.

"I figure we get her real drunk, and then spring it on her while she's all peaceful and happy-like."

Gippal snorted. "She'd probably puke all over you. Stink up your hut."

"So we'll do it at yer place. Djose's got marble floors, right? Easy clean up."

"She'll do irreparable damage. I need a new hole in my temple like I need a new hole in my head." Gippal crossed his arms resolutely. He was about to go on her 'justifiable homicide' list, and he wouldn't put it past her to fly over Djose and dump her stock of spare grenades. There was no way she was getting inside it.

Cid waved away Gippal's protest. "We'll think of somethin'," he said, "sooner or later."

- -

In the end, though, it was Rikku herself that forced the issue, although she wasn't aware of it at the time. She'd stopped in Bikanel for a few days, helping with the machina and going on a few fairly lucrative digging excursions, and had been staying with Cid. It had been a while since they'd actually last talked, but Cid enjoyed listening to the excited chatter his daughter continually spouted. She reminded him of himself as he'd been in his younger days – stubborn, headstrong, willful, but full of fun and life.

"There's this guy I met in Kilika. He's a Yevonite, but he's really great. I'm thinking of bringing him back to Bikanel sometime." She helped herself to a piece of toast, gobbling down a few bites before continuing. "His name's Keran. I think you'll like him. At least, I hope you'll like him."

"Ya wanna bring this boy to Bikanel? Why?"

Rikku rolled her eyes. "Why do you think? For Spira's sake, Pops, you're the one that keeps talking about how much you want grandchildren."

"Not from an outsider!" Cid hadn't anticipated this – she'd never shown much of an interest in men, and he'd counted on that indifference to keep his secret.

Rikku blinked in surprise at Cid's outburst. "What is your problem? I thought you'd be thrilled at the prospect of me getting married and possibly popping out a few kids."

"Ya can't marry him."

"Pops, I'm nearly twenty. I can do whatever I want."

"It's not that." Cid sighed. "It's not that ya can't get married, it's that ya can't get married."

"Are you going senile? Oh, god, this is it. You've finally lost it. I'm going to have to put you in a home. Everyone's gonna think crazy runs in my family!"

"Shut it, girl. I'm tryin' to tell ya somethin' important here!" Cid paced the room, working up the courage to tell his one and only daughter that he'd ruined her life.

"So tell me already! And would you stop pacing? You're kinda creeping me out, Pops."

"It ain't the easiest thing in the world ta say, kid." He turned, jaw set stubbornly. "I'll just come out and say it. Ya can't get married because yer already married. Ta Gippal."

There was a shocked silence. Slowly, Rikku's face drained of color. Her mouth opened and closed, as though she were trying to speak, but couldn't find the words. Then, finally, she regained her voice.

"What?!"