Hello, everyone! This is the lovely product of a plot bunny that hit me last night. I hope you enjoy, and I encourage you to leave a donation in the box! (Of course I mean leave me a review! Please? Pretty please? Don't make me do a silly dance!)

At the moment, I think that XigDem will be the singular pairing here, but everything is subject to change, including the rating.

Disclaimer: I am just playing in Square Enix's sandbox. I own none of these characters.

Let's do this thing!

Chapter One – The Scarred Man and The Sea

The day was a beautiful one. A clear, sapphire sky banked the calm sea while the gulls cawed melodically overhead, swooping over excited, cheerful men, women, and children as they waited on the sunny deck to board their ship, laughing and talking.

It was the worst day ever.

He remembered vividly the faces of his coworkers as they forced this monstrosity upon him.

"Xigbar, sir, we've been talking and…"

"And?"

"And, er, we think that you need a vacation."

Xigbar's head whipped up from his work so fast that it caught his younger employee off guard, adding wide eyes to his already flushed face. "You what?" The associate cleared his throat.

"We all chipped in to buy you these." That's when the tickets had been thrown atop his desk, poorly aimed by the shaking hand. It was not fear, as Xigbar had very good relationships with pretty much every one he met, but nerves; suggesting he take a vacation was as deserving of the death sentence as anything could be in a sugar factory. In all honesty, the factory was completely separate from the office building, of which Xigbar was a highly regarded CEO, and although he never saw so much as a twinkie in the flesh, there were plenty of them choking the paperwork.

When he opened the ticket envelope, brightly inked slips stared up at him, announcing happily that he would be leaving in three days' time for the 'cruise of his life'. His mouth hung slightly open. He couldn't very well destroy his employees' morale by turning away their gift, especially considering he didn't pay them much and it must have cost them a hefty price.

"Please, take a vacation. You work too much. There are two tickets there, so take someone special and go relax, okay?"

Ohh no, it was absolutely not okay. Not only did Xigbar have no one around him he'd tolerate for a full week, but it would mean dropping work for the same amount of time, something he couldn't see himself doing. He almost considered selling the second ticket (and possibly his own), but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He was a shrewd money shark in the office, but this was personal; he wouldn't be able to spend the money he gained without feeling guilty.

Business man? Well, sure, not a very odd job, but his conscience made him pretty unique in that career field.

And maybe the cruise would be fun, eh? Maybe? Just a little?

But now he was definitely regretting ever being hopeful. All the people around him had company with them, and they were yammering away about the rooms they were staying in and the activities they were going to do together, and even though Xigbar would have free reign of his schedule and a number of entertaining activities aboard The Highwind, there was no joy in it. Well, so what? Who cared if he could eat dinner at 6:00, 6:30, 7:15, or 8:00? He'd still be eating alone. Then there would be waltzing into the massage parlour looking like world's number one perv, anxious for little lady fingers. As if he wanted anything to do with those.

What he wouldn't give to replace the sea and the sky with fluorescent lights and cheap, recycled carpet. He was comfortable in the office, comfortable with steel and cold, dark things he could take control of in the same fluid manner he dealt with his stock portfolio and coffee breaks. A man of habit? Never! A king's life may grow monotonous, but at least he's still a king!

And it wasn't even that. He could have accepted the millions of job opportunities for jobs that were higher up than his, but he'd rather be working with his men, working until he literally broke a sweat, than sitting in a lonely penthouse, watching the world go by below with his arms clasped behind his back. No, no. And his men trusted him, despite him being, frankly, scary looking, with an eye patch (often speculated about but never indulged), wildly greying hair, and enough scars that he would joke that his previous job had been bear wrestling.

He probably would have taken bear wrestling over this cruise. The dread filled his stomach as he boarded, jostled by other passengers and their things. The ship was Hawaii-bound, with nothing but ocean, ocean, and ocean in between too small, too fleeting spurts of land.

As usual, people gawked at him all the way inside the large, well-furnished interior. He was efficiently checked in and guided, unnecessarily, to his room, number 213. Then the door shut and everything went quiet.

He stared at the white door, he stared at the cozy bed, he stared at the suitcases atop the cozy bed, but mostly he stared at nothing at all. And wondered what to do. And wondered when he should start doing it. Then he wondered how on earth he was going to survive a week of this.

Work, of course, was his saviour. If his employees were really serious about making him relax, they should have taken his laptop, for there he sat, on a pristine, double poster bed with deep purple hangings, in a room wallpapered in crème and lilac, with fuzzy carpet, with a jacuzzi in the bathroom, with a whole sunny deck of laughing creatures enjoying activities—there he sat, typing away on the latest report with his spindly legs drawn uncomfortably close and socks still on his feet.

Actually, it took all of his best efforts to even come up with any semblance of a wardrobe for this affair; he only owned button-up shirts and a million black slacks. He had to gather his loosest pants and breeziest shirts, preferably in brighter colours. There was no need to frighten anyone even further. Just imagining the kids screaming to their parents the moment he walked out on deck…ugh, leaving his long hair down made him look like a hobo, he thought, but pulling it up just threw his eye patch and scar in sharper relief.

He was so absorbed in what he was doing that he hardly even thought at all about how the structure around him was mobile, or that the day was wearing from noon to early evening. Hah, he thought triumphantly, that was at least half a day's work right there. If only the others were here to witness the victory.

Admittedly, though, he was bored as hell, and decided to leave the room, throwing on a pair of ugly flip-flops and walking down the navy-coloured hallway, following the signs to the closest deck. If he was going to be trapped on a floating prison, at least he could learn its mysteries first, right?

The deck he entered was currently facing to the east, he figured, as the sun was nowhere to be seen but the evidence of its presence was all around in the form of crisp, orange light. Xigbar smiled tentatively to a passing couple who, unless he was really paranoid now, held each other a little tighter as they crossed paths. All around there were people lounging on beach chairs and leaning against the railings, some alone, some together, and some minding their children. Hands in his pockets, loose strands of long hair fluttering by his face, Xigbar made his way to the left until he arrived at the pool, a surprisingly deep number. He settled in a chair safely away from the water and admired the way the late afternoon sun caught in the crystal clear water.

Then he caught himself, wondering what he was doing admiring anything, especially pool water which was probably just crawling with a thousand kids' worth of grime, and the adults were probably even worse. That thought made him realise how much sex would probably be happening on this ship, and he shuddered.

In his office life, Xigbar rarely went out but did manage to bag a few when he did. Mostly he slept with women who, when filled with drinks, were pretty enthusiastic about his rugged exterior until the next morning when the light fully hit him and they would seize their torches and pitchforks until he left. To be fair, not all of them did that. The men, the very few he bedded, were better about it. Still, there was no one he'd ever liked enough to consider sharing a cruise with, let alone the same room and bed for a week. Sure, he was an exciting screw, but who would really want to bring him home to their parents? Who would look at him and assume he was the loving type?

Ah, well, that was life. At least he would be able to retire rich. At least he had a whole week of 'relaxation' ahead of him. He dozed and thought of these things. When he awoke, somewhat warmed from the sun, he considered, with slight joy, that at least it was time for dinner.

That completes our first episode. Comments, complaints? Feel free to drop me a line. Hope to see you next time!