Okay, this is the sequel to my other fic called His Unicorn. If you haven't read that, this fic won't make any sense, so I'd advise you to go and read that before starting this one.

Hello to all the people who have been with me through His Unicorn! Here is the beginnings of the sequel you all requested, and I hope it's up to standard. This chapter is short as it's basically an introduction to the story, and how things have turned out since the end of His Unicorn, I know a lot of you were outraged by the abrupt end.

The chapters will get longer as we go along, so have no fear in that respect.

I hope you all enjoy, and I own nothing, unfortunately.

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"Gippal! You have a call waiting!"

The voice of one of his workers filtered through his drunken stupor, causing him to growl slightly in annoyance, already knowing who was waiting for him to pick up and answer. She had been bombarding him with calls for the past two weeks, and seemed to be showing no signs of ending her tirade to get his attention.

"Boss!"

"Leave me alone, god damnit!!"

The bottle of whiskey was thrown across the room in anger, causing the worker to flinch and step back, hesitating in the doorway, unsure about going back and telling her again that he wasn't available.

"Just GO!"

His shaking voice was all it took for the worker to finally turn and flee, knowing that Gippal's fuse had once again been lit, and would blow at any second. He pitied the next person to enter the office and face the wrath of the Faction leader.

"She lied…she lied," he rubbed aggressively at his eye, as he slammed his other fist down onto his desk. The betrayal seemed to run deep in his veins, attacking his muscles and organs, a constant agony that wouldn't dissipate. Not only the pain of Rikku's deceit, but the betrayal he directed towards himself for the love he continued to feel for her. The love he knew he would never stop feeling, even if she ripped out his heart and fed it to a shoopuff. Whoever had said that love was the most powerful force in Spira hadn't lied, Gippal felt as though someone had cut him up into small pieces and put him back together in a jumble. Only his heart seemed to be in the right place, carrying on it's persistent pumping much to his chagrin, betraying him with each swell. The entire concept of a broken heart seemed trivial right then; his heart was more than broken. It had been twisted and pulled, clenched and squeezed but left to beat in the empty cavern of his chest. Pain like this was worse than death, and if he hadn't been aware of his love for the spunky Al Bhed before, he certainly was now.

Wrenching open the bottom drawer of his desk, ignoring the pile of papers that were sent flying to the floor from the force, Gippal roughly pulled out the old picture of them together when they had been nothing but young kids. The young kid that he had known, even then, he would end up marrying, with a huge family of children and braying animals. But Rikku had already seen to that desire, by tugging it from his grasp when it wasn't even his to begin with.

Ignoring the single tear that had leaked from his piercing green eye, he turned the precious picture on its side, and ripped it in two, feeling a thrill of satisfaction at the destruction. Placing the two halves together, he ripped them in half once more with a savagery that would have shocked even Cid. Letting the pieces fall to the floor, he buried his head in his hands, and let out a howl of despair and agony, shoulders shaking with anger and anguish.

Standing up so suddenly his chair fell backwards, one single swept of his heavily muscled arm knocked his desk over, sending files and papers fluttering into the air, to fall with more grace than their wooden counterpart. Picking up the chair, he threw it across his office, to share the same fate as the whiskey bottle, bouncing from the opposite wall with a mighty thud that sent it back to the centre of the room to rest with the upturned desk. Emitting a roar of frustration, Gippal clenched his fist and sent it slamming into the nearest wall, ignoring the pain and simply sending it back into the stonewall. Blood started to mar the paint as he continued with the self-abuse, only stopping when some of his workers burst through the door, grabbing him around the waist just as the next hit was about to reveal the bones of his knuckles. It took all four of the workers to pull him away and out of the room, having finally found and excuse to take him to the Djose doctor, all trying to hide the worry and concern they had been feeling for the past few weeks. If he would just take her calls, he wouldn't have to put himself through this, and things could go back to how they were before.

Except, until a certain someone was found, none of their lives would be normal. The hunt for Tajem continued…