Hidden In sight
Disclaimer: I don't own FFX-2. Wow. I'm sure you're all surprised. I know I am.
***
Bevelle, the home of Yevon, has always loved its secrets. Before, during, and after the Calm, Bevelle and Yevon would never lose their compulsion to hide things. Yuna and her guardians had sniffed out the truth in the old church, and just last year we managed to discover Vegnagun. Since then, Baralai and the other high-ranking members of New Yevon have tried their best to remain open with the rest of Spira, Youth League included. But, to use a cliché, old habits die hard.
There weren't any clues or anything, no spheres, just a tendency to keep information close to them--and closed to others. Only the reclusive habits of their praetor pointed to anything definite being wrong. After that party in Luca—the one we missed in order to take Yuna back to Besaid—Baralai had retreated deep within the confines of the old Bevelle temple, and New Yevon as a whole remained silent, only occasionally sending out warriors or officials.
This visit of mine wasn't really political. With the defeat of Vegnagun, Nooj had managed to calm down the generally hot-headed Youth League, and while the two factions were still rivals, the hostility once threatening to blow up Spira had faded. No, the concern of friends and acquaintances prompted this visit. Of course, since I was the only one who wasn't busy with anything too important, I was the one nagged to check on Baralai. Yuna might have done it herself had I refused, but she deserved her rest.
The airship landed on the Bevelle Highbridge, and an old priest bowed to me in welcome as he informed me that the praetor was busy and not to be disturbed. Body language fixed that. The right cool stare, the right hand hovering over the hilt of my trusted blade and the man paled and stepped aside. My journey to the temple entrance wasn't filled with all the clatter that I remember from my days with the Gullwings. Since Yuna was enjoying island life on Besaid, no one approached to catch a glimpse of the legendary high-summoner, and since we aren't with the Youth League, no warrior stood in my way as I passed through. No, the pretentious beauty of Bevelle and the bright colors that decorated the temples clamored loudest as I traveled to the gates.
The doors opened easily, and body language once again silenced any objection that the priests might have had to my disturbing their busy praetor. The two priests who blocked the lift couldn't seem to get out of the way fast enough. Baralai was at the top, as always, sitting in his special chair--not a throne, he despised that type of pretension applied to him--and muddling over some sort of paperwork.
I didn't announce my arrival, and until my shadow loomed over his papers he didn't look up. When he finally did, his eyes widened a little, a hint of surprise that sparked some satisfaction in me.
"Paine!"
***
"Hey." In the company of a friend I relaxed a little. The surprise had faded from Baralai's eyes, revealing a dark, hooded look. Sleep deprived, obviously. Always a workaholic, even when he was still a trainee for the Crimson Squad, it was obvious that these few years leading New Yevon had only aggravated this trait.
"Paine, I'm a little-"
Knowing what he was about to say, I cut him off. "Busy? Yeah. The priests told me that on the way here. I was hoping, though, that you wouldn't be too busy to talk to an old friend."
He sighed and looked defeated as he put aside his documents. As he stood up, I almost walked away. A message to him: if he were that busy, I didn't care. A message to myself: If I was hurt by his rejection, there was no chance in the Farplane that I would ever let him know that.
"I can go," I offered, turning my back to him.
"Paine..." He said again, speaking slowly, perhaps choosing his words, "wait. I guess I could use a break. How about a cup of tea between friends?"
I turned back again. "That sounds good." The small smile I allowed to flicker across my face told him that it really did sound good, even if I had never been much of a tea drinker.
He bowed dismissal to those reporting to him and led me out to the balcony overlooking the temple walkway. On the way to his personal lift, neither of us spoke much. Everything I needed to say could wait, and apparently so could anything Baralai needed to as well. The silence was tense, though not angry, if the way he offered his hand in help as I got onto the lift was any indication. While the help was nothing that I needed, I took the hand anyway, although I made sure to let go as soon as I was safely aboard.
Takeoff was gentle, and I hardly noticed we were flying until I looked over the edge to see the temple below me in all its brightness. Someone who never knew Bevelle might have thought this view beautiful. To me, though, the vivid colors were only pretty paper wrapped over dark secrets. I stopped focusing below and started looking ahead at the sky visible between the spires of the city's buildings. Even after spending so much time aboard the Celsius, my joy at moving through the sky had never faded.
"I take it that flying is still your idea of fun," Baralai spoke up, jolting me even though his voice was still the soft, measured praetor's voice. How did he come so close to matching my thoughts? My words didn't ask him that, but when I looked at his intent face, I knew the question was in my eyes.
He averted his gaze, one that must have been locked on me while I was looking at the scenery, but he did answer that silent question. "You looked happy."
The whirring of the lift as it prepared to dock relieved my obligation to respond. With all the silent messages we seemed to be sending to each other, something needed saying. The problem lay in exactly what to say. I wasn't Rikku, who never had a lack of words, even if they weren't the right ones, and I definitely wasn't Yuna, who seemed to always know the right things to say. No, I was the silent Gullwing. Sarcastic remarks came easily, especially when the others seemed to set themselves up for them so easily, but the honest, revealing things never came out without a struggle. And if I were to say anything then, it would have had to be honest and more than a little revealing. Unsure of myself, I said nothing even as I once again took the hand that Baralai offered as I exited the lift.
We were on a balcony, the highest one in the temple, with a view that swept across the entire city. For a minute before we went inside, I drank in the scenery. "The view from here is wonderful," I broke the silence at last.
"Same from here," he commented, leaving ambiguous exactly what he was talking about. A scowl crossed my face as I tried to figure out the messages hidden in his words. His posture, closed as always, revealed nothing; but then again, when I turned towards him, his eyes quickly changed their direction. Away from me. "We should go in," he finally said, leading me to the door leading to his personal living quarters.
The state of his home reflected his workaholism. Clean more through lack of use than care, a fine dust covered many of the surfaces, doorknobs included. The coolness of the air indicated that the heater had not been turned on recently, even in this current cold snap. Baralai worked hard, I always knew that, but until I saw his all but abandoned home I never thought that work could be all he ever did.
"When was the last time you were here?" I asked him. He didn't answer immediately, though judging from the way he slunk into the kitchen to start boiling the water, it had been a while.
When he did answer, it wasn't a direct statement, but rather an evasive one. "New Yevon doesn't run itself. There's always some matter or another that requires my attention." He slumped over as he said this, looking less like the proud leader of one of Spira's largest groups and more like an overworked laborer.
"Always? You don't have someone to keep things running for a few hours while you go do other things? Like sleep?" I paced through the kitchen, hopefully expending some of my energy. Not nervous energy, but just an excess of tension that threatened to spill over.
His rifling through the cupboards to gather cups and tea bags answered that last question: He either didn't want to answer or he didn't know the right words to say. If it were the latter, he wasn't the only one to have that feeling today. "You saw what happened that time when I disappeared, and the mess with Vegnagun. Bevelle was in an uproar, and within just a few days the entirety of New Yevon threatened to split apart at the seams. I can't risk that happening again."
The heels of my boots clicked furiously as I continued my pacing. "If you actually tell people that you're taking a break, I doubt New Yevon would fall apart again. And I'm sure there's at least one person in the ranks competent enough to keep things running while you take a break. There's a former summoner in your ranks, Isaaru, who should be capable enough, even though he did run that tourist attraction in Zanarkand for a bit. I'm sure he wouldn't mind watching over things occasionally."
"Perhaps," Baralai allowed, pouring the boiling water over the tea bags and letting them steep. "Do you want honey in your tea?" he asked as he stirred a spoonful of the amber-colored substance into his own cup.
"No thanks." He offered me the cup without the honey, and I took a sip. The mixture—tasting faintly of flowers and strong black tea—though pleasant, did not seem to fit his personality. When the faint buzz from the liquid reached my already frazzled nerves, I understood why he chose to drink it.
"If you're really tired," I told him, "you should sleep occasionally. What crisis is going on that you have to be constantly on alert?"
"There's no crisis for the moment, but there's always something demanding my attention. We're trying to fill in the holes to the Farplane now before anyone else falls in them, and there have been reports that our security system has been compromised by ten-year-old sphere hunters, of all people."
"Yeah, the Kinderguardians. We ran into them a few times while you were gone—they sneaked in during the commotion. Security was naturally weak then. Your people need to learn how to function even when you don't have direct supervision over them."
If he heard that last part, he pretended he didn't. "And I just received word from Macalania, of all places. Some merchant wants me to restore the temple that sank into the lake or build a town near there now that the woods have disappeared. He tells me that it would give a needed boost to the economy."
A slight smile crossed my face at the mention of Macalania's economy. "You really shouldn't concern yourself with that. O'aka and his brother should have chosen to do business in a better location. The only ones with gil in Macalania these days are the fiends."
"I see." Baralai took another sip of his tea. "How have you been doing lately? The Gullwings are still in business, right?"
"We split up after we destroyed Vegnagun." I informed him.
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that." He did sound sorry to hear that, almost. "Everyone is all right, I hope."
"Everyone's happy with the split." Actually, I was dissatisfied with life away from sphere hunting, but everyone else had moved on and I could have started a new group if I could find people I respected enough to join. And if one of those people had an airship. "They all pretty much moved on. Yuna found the person she was looking for. One of her guardians on her pilgrimage was a blitzball player from Zanarkand, and he disappeared once she had defeated Sin. She hunted spheres so she could find a way to bring him back."
Baralai's droopy eyes widened a bit at this revelation. "There's blitzball in Zanarkand? I thought only monkeys thrived in those ruins." Was this newfound energy of his real? Or was it just a hoax to convince me that he was all right?
"Apparently. It was a different Zanarkand though. Neither of them liked talking about it, and I'm nice enough to let it be. They're happy now, and that's what matters. In fact, they're getting married in a few months in Besaid. You should take some time off then and go to the wedding." When he opened his mouth for a well-mannered protest, I cut him off. "As praetor of New Yevon, it's your duty to congratulate the high summoner in person."
"I see. I suppose I can't offend Lady Yuna." Baralai took another sip and hesitated. Obviously, he had nothing to answer that with. "How are the rest of the Gullwings doing?"
I locked my eyes onto him and tried to decode some possible hidden meaning. Like speaking Al Bhed with only half the primers, I knew real meaning hid behind an apparently meaningless set of words, and yet, while I could figure out the gist of it, the exact meaning remained elusive. I needed Baralai primers to help with those ambiguous statements he was so fond of.
Without any sort of help to figure out the meaning, I answered the statement at face value. "Rikku's with the Machine Faction now. And she and Gippal decided to give each other a second chance. Brother and Buddy are planning on going out to salvage more Airships soon. And Shinra..." I showed Baralai the Commsphere I brought with me, a fragile, teal-colored half-globe. "He's been rebuilding these things, Commspheres, and setting up a network all over Spira. I've been told to give this one to you."
Gingerly, he took the device from me and inspected it. "What does it do?"
"When you, Nooj, and Gippal were missing, we used these Commspheres to communicate with the rest of Spira. Now that there finally seems to be peace, Shinra's trying to get them set up everywhere. There's one at the Youth League headquarters, one on Besaid that Yuna's taking care of, two in Kilika, and we're setting some up in Guadosalam and Mount Gagazet as well. We put up one in Djose for the Machine Faction, but they scrapped it for parts. Again." I cut off my explanation when I realized that despite all the words coming from my mouth, I wasn't saying anything. The way Baralai and I could send so many messages in our silences and yet send so few in our words was funny. Not funny amusing, funny peculiar. "You can use it to keep in touch with everyone. None of this disappearing on us anymore."
"Paine…" Baralai reached out to me with my name. "I haven't disappeared; I've just been busy. You and anyone else can visit me anytime. Anytime." The words were meant to be reassuring, but the message was anything but. Nothing could ever prompt the praetor to relax, and those he was closest to would always be second. His health, of course, was lower than his friends. I studied his face and the paleness that lurked underneath his naturally tan skin, and I only looked away when I noticed his eyes lingering on my face.
"You would still work yourself to death, wouldn't you?" He would; even if the next words out of his mouth contradicted me, his eyes would look away from mine in defeat and his tired body would betray him as it slumped forward.
His eyes looked away, and his body slumped forward. "I'm only working as much as I have to." The Commsphere set aside, Baralai picked up his mug again, his hand trembling for a brief moment. As I stared at it longer, it stopped when its owner figured out that I was watching.
Silence lingered in the air as I considered that last statement, true and yet misleading. True that Bevelle and Yevon, the complex monstrosities that they were, required constant attention. Always tension threatened to spill over from one section of the former clergy to another or from street to street. Misleading in that Baralai, if he were the only one keeping New Yevon together, could still work only as much as was needed and yet never get a minute's respite, much less a full eight hours of sleep. To the public, he looked confident and alert, bearing himself with quiet wisdom, especially for one as young as he was. To me, though, staring over a cup of tea at him, he looked weary.
"You still must not get much sleep, though." Those words weren't mine, even if they came from my mouth. The tone, so concerned, belonged to someone else, a soft, caring person, not the aloof sphere hunter I'd been for so long. The empathy came from some abyss and infected my words.
Baralai, too, showed surprise at what I last said. "You're very perceptive. I sleep when I can," he explained. "What about you? I hope for the sake of example that you're taking good care of yourself, as well."
Touché. My life during the continuing Calm, marked by periods of frenzied activity that led nowhere, followed by periods of contemplation, could, by some standard, be considered healthy. I ate well, slept daily, exercised often, all those things that the healers recommended, and yet I never considered it 'taking care.' It was just maintenance—like a New Yevon guard keeping his weapon in working order. Always ready to go, to defend, to fight if need be, but never with a purpose.
For so long, I chased butterflies of curiosity: the fluttering, happy days of my time recording the group of Crimson Squad trainees who would become some of my best friends; somber and hopeful days in the aftermath of Operation Mi'hen and the destruction of Home, when I learned the Al Bhed language and culture; and finally my time with the Gullwings, searching for and revisiting the ghosts of many pasts. Others chased with me, but one by one, they stopped running, having found what they were looking for. But my place eluded me. Settling down in a home, settling on a dream, none of that came easy to me. I traverse Spira, seeing as close to everything as one individual can and yet finding nothing.
The calm, wise praetor waited for an answer, as he might for a messenger arriving with a report. "I take care of myself," I finally said, choosing my words as he did, true and yet misleading. A competition of language, perception, and gesture started again. Would Baralai figure out the truth behind the words, or would he merely accept them at face value?
I determined from the soft, "Are you happy?" that followed that the first option was correct. The instinct that let him single-handedly lead a whole faction applied not only to politics but to people as well. He dug up the truth the way a Chocobo searched for treasure, or the way an Al Bhed salvaged machina, with a relentless dedication and subtle force.
A life wandering Spira meant facing fiends, other less savory creatures and enough small favors for local populations to leave a mortal woman unsent if she were to fulfill them all, and it was a life that taught valuable lessons about time. The time to press your luck for all it was worth, and the time to play it safe. The time to reveal truth and intentions, and the time to conceal them close to one's breast or behind one's sword. The time to accept a challenge and a time to turn them down. Baralai, though he was neither fiend nor unsavory creature –quite the opposite, in fact – nor a local population looking for a favor—the lessons of the wandering life still applied.
The lesson, and the invaluable instinct that came with it, showed me two choices: elusion or truth. I could attempt to fool someone able to discover and conceal the secrets of Bevelle, which as the conversation went on seemed less likely, or I could cut my losses as they were and speak the truth. Baralai, a friend, a leader—but not my leader—could not be nearly as scary as I had imagined a moment earlier despite the lies that my loud, pounding heart insisted were true.
I chose truth and confiding it to the friend across the table. "I'm not sure where I belong anymore. For so long, I've had goals, and people to pursue them with, dreams if you will. Everything led to bigger adventures, and I fulfilled the majority of my dreams: I found you and Nooj and Gippal; I rode on one of the first airships to fly in Spira's sky in a thousand years; I helped save Spira from Shuyin and Vegnagun; I fought at the side of the High Summoner and one of her guardians as an equal to them, even if I never made a big deal about it. I've accomplished so much, and now, I don't really have a place to go." The words that flowed out so quickly while I spoke them stumbled, as I realized what came next. "I'm– you know what? Forget it."
Nothing followed except for brown eyes that flickered downwards and long, long, sips of what had to be a never-ending cup of tea. When the silence broke, he freed himself from any distraction, forcing a direct gaze into my eyes and setting down the mug with the trademark quiet force I associated with him. "You're lost." While his voice never rose a decibel or note he could still emphasize words, and those words were about as emphasized as he could get. And he had the grace to keep me from stumbling over the usual question when someone knows things they shouldn't. "Paine, when we were in that desert training, you were as much of our group as the rest of us, even if you weren't trying out for the Crimson Squad. We talked of our pasts and our backgrounds. You were..." He trailed off, intentionally leaving a space open for me to insert commentary.
"I was a sphere recorder for the Luca news." I fulfilled my role in this conversation.
And Baralai fulfilled his by moving on with his explanation, examining me with the eye of one attuned to people. "You were good at what you did. It was safe, and it paid enough gil to buy you Blitzball season tickets. Yet you chose to give that up to record a bunch of training exercises in the Bikanel desert. You've never been one to just settle, not when we first met, not now. And with the Calm underway and no imminent goals, you can't find anything left to strive for and you don't want to rest." The verbal attack resided, leaving discovery in its wake, if not a solution.
He offered me a solution, one we both knew I would never accept, and the mask he wore so well lifted briefly. "If you were one to stay in one place, I would ask you to stay in Bevelle. There will always be a need in the temples for someone as sensitive and intelligent as you are with your range of skills. Sometimes you don't need to search to find things; sometimes you just need to stop searching, and see what's been visible all along. Or you need to have something to search and finding whatever it is doesn't matter. I don't always know, but I'll tell you this. You are always welcome here." In the slipping of his mask, not a single ounce of composure was lost, and it was the same as he replaced it.
Such high praise from an observer of people, one of the few whose opinion mattered. An undignified blush threatened to cross my face and I struggled to suppress it, successfully, I hoped. "Thank you. Even if we both know that I could never live here."
Bevelle had Baralai and secrets, two things that overlapped, but not the same, but that's all it had. I had been all over Spira, from Besaid to the south, Zanarkand to the north, Bikanel to the east, and even Omega Ruins to the west. With the exception of that last, very brief sojourn, Bevelle was easily my least favorite place. As far as the two major cities went, give me the bright lights and playful atmosphere of Luca over the gaudy formality of Bevelle. For beautiful vistas, give me the magic of Macalania and the endless plains of the Calm Lands over crowded spires of city buildings. If there were one place in Spira that I could be happy never seeing again, it would be this harsh metropolis that hid like a coward behind a facade of grandeur.
No. I couldn't give up Bevelle, no matter how much I hated this place. The secrets that demanded unearthing and the praetor who buried them so well would always draw me back, but they couldn't make me stay. That I refused to let happen. Wandering was the only home I had; never was I so at home as when I was on the road. I don't believe in fate, but if I did, I would believe it was mine to wander Spira for eternity. Maybe like Maechen, I would wrap myself up so tightly in traveling and observing that I would forget my own life and death. The possibility was there, and so was the question of whether that was a possibility that I could embrace. It meant a lonely life, but not necessarily a sad one.
Lonely lives are everywhere. The life of an observer is lonely; so is that of a single leader. My life. Baralai's life. So similar, and yet so different. The others could relate somewhat. Nooj ran the Youth League after all, but he had Lucil to help him out, and Leblanc to pester him; he was a hero and a leader who would never be alone. Gippal, who could figure? He formed bonds like he fixed machina, with utmost skill and a casual confidence; one could almost call it cockiness. Rikku was similar, ready to pester and annoy her way into the hearts of anyone she met. If their pasts ever affected them, the Al Bhed pair concealed it better than anyone else in Spira. Yuna had the loneliest view as the High Summoner, but someone special stayed close to her, always. Baralai and I, we were alone. Or were we? We were connected by the same loneliness that separated us from everyone else.
Long thoughts had made for tepid tea, I noticed, as I took a small sip and set aside the cup for good.
Baralai revived the dead conversation "My offer always stands." He too set aside his cup after one last sip, sealing a mutual agreement that my little exercise in soul searching had ended, and his little break from the pressures of New Yevon had ended as well. He pulled his chair out from the table and stood up. I followed suit. "One more thing," he requested as he procured two spheres from his pocket, one the generic pearly peach color of modern spheres, the other a faded red that had been standard for the Crimson Squad. "This one is for Nooj," he said referring to the pearly one "It details our work sealing up the holes to the Farplane. The other one's for you, and..."
"And?" I prompted, wondering what Baralai could possibly have that would be of interest.
He spent his time gathering his words, just as a leader was supposed to do when possibly revealing something sensitive. Then, a playful smile crossed his face. "You'll just have to see for yourself."
The shield of reserve dropped for the time being. "And you get some sleep," I returned, tousling his perfect white hair into a state of dishevelment. He responded with a quick hug, really just a squeeze across the shoulders that lingered long enough to not be an accidental touch. We parted quickly, just soon enough that the shield that always stood between us could be erected anew without causing undue embarrassment to either of us.
Together, we walked back to the lift and rode it back to the temple, silence once again hanging in the air. With the sphere from Nooj tucked safely away in a secret pocket, I fingered the crimson one left to me. Though I couldn't see the contents now, imagination and ideas blended together to create a number of possibilities: Some frightening, some exhilarating, and some a cliché blend of both that caused rushing blood and a pounding heart. As Rikku, the wise ditz, had once said: It was the feeling of being connected to someone special.
The peaceful silence ended too soon and the lift descended to its starting point on the temple walkway. Confident leader replaced weary friend as Baralai returned to his job leading a major political faction into the future, uncovering and hiding secrets, leaving me to cross the Highbridge by myself.
"Take care of yourself," I cautioned as I left him to the mercy of priests, acolytes, and messengers, and rode down to the lower floor.
My concern was dismissed with an apologetic smile. "Remember, you're welcome back anytime."
The journey back to the airship blessed me with time alone to contemplate a few things. Bevelle was home to things concealed and swept away and things that lurked in plain sight, always there, but never noticed until the seeker was ready to find them. Through the adventures that I had in that temple as a Gullwing, I learned that the concealed things slid out all too easily if one were persistent enough. And now, on my own, Bevelle threatened to teach me a new lesson: No one and nothing is hiding what I'm missing right now, not Baralai, not Bevelle, not Yevon, not any sphere except the one I clutch in my hand, and that would soon reveal the knowledge I needed. If something remained hidden now, my eyes just weren't looking hard enough.
I would watch that sphere, and I would seek. Yes, and I would find something.
***
Author's notes: Hah! I have done it! I have proven that I can write a Paine/Baralai fic and keep them both in some sort of character. Well, what I think is in character anyway. And yes, it ends there. Deal.
This fic is dedicated to Koorino Megumi, who is my regular beta-reader, and a true goddess of grammar and characterization. It's her birthday today (April 10), and thus she deserves ficcage and happy wishes. Even if you hate or have nothing to say about this story, please review this to wish her a happy birthday. Much thanks.
Also, much thanks to my guest beta-readers: Starhealer and Chevira Lowe. This has only been half betaed so far, so this version will get replaced by something better when the other beta *coughChevscough* sends me the requisite list of imperfections.
Disclaimer: I don't own FFX-2. Wow. I'm sure you're all surprised. I know I am.
***
Bevelle, the home of Yevon, has always loved its secrets. Before, during, and after the Calm, Bevelle and Yevon would never lose their compulsion to hide things. Yuna and her guardians had sniffed out the truth in the old church, and just last year we managed to discover Vegnagun. Since then, Baralai and the other high-ranking members of New Yevon have tried their best to remain open with the rest of Spira, Youth League included. But, to use a cliché, old habits die hard.
There weren't any clues or anything, no spheres, just a tendency to keep information close to them--and closed to others. Only the reclusive habits of their praetor pointed to anything definite being wrong. After that party in Luca—the one we missed in order to take Yuna back to Besaid—Baralai had retreated deep within the confines of the old Bevelle temple, and New Yevon as a whole remained silent, only occasionally sending out warriors or officials.
This visit of mine wasn't really political. With the defeat of Vegnagun, Nooj had managed to calm down the generally hot-headed Youth League, and while the two factions were still rivals, the hostility once threatening to blow up Spira had faded. No, the concern of friends and acquaintances prompted this visit. Of course, since I was the only one who wasn't busy with anything too important, I was the one nagged to check on Baralai. Yuna might have done it herself had I refused, but she deserved her rest.
The airship landed on the Bevelle Highbridge, and an old priest bowed to me in welcome as he informed me that the praetor was busy and not to be disturbed. Body language fixed that. The right cool stare, the right hand hovering over the hilt of my trusted blade and the man paled and stepped aside. My journey to the temple entrance wasn't filled with all the clatter that I remember from my days with the Gullwings. Since Yuna was enjoying island life on Besaid, no one approached to catch a glimpse of the legendary high-summoner, and since we aren't with the Youth League, no warrior stood in my way as I passed through. No, the pretentious beauty of Bevelle and the bright colors that decorated the temples clamored loudest as I traveled to the gates.
The doors opened easily, and body language once again silenced any objection that the priests might have had to my disturbing their busy praetor. The two priests who blocked the lift couldn't seem to get out of the way fast enough. Baralai was at the top, as always, sitting in his special chair--not a throne, he despised that type of pretension applied to him--and muddling over some sort of paperwork.
I didn't announce my arrival, and until my shadow loomed over his papers he didn't look up. When he finally did, his eyes widened a little, a hint of surprise that sparked some satisfaction in me.
"Paine!"
***
"Hey." In the company of a friend I relaxed a little. The surprise had faded from Baralai's eyes, revealing a dark, hooded look. Sleep deprived, obviously. Always a workaholic, even when he was still a trainee for the Crimson Squad, it was obvious that these few years leading New Yevon had only aggravated this trait.
"Paine, I'm a little-"
Knowing what he was about to say, I cut him off. "Busy? Yeah. The priests told me that on the way here. I was hoping, though, that you wouldn't be too busy to talk to an old friend."
He sighed and looked defeated as he put aside his documents. As he stood up, I almost walked away. A message to him: if he were that busy, I didn't care. A message to myself: If I was hurt by his rejection, there was no chance in the Farplane that I would ever let him know that.
"I can go," I offered, turning my back to him.
"Paine..." He said again, speaking slowly, perhaps choosing his words, "wait. I guess I could use a break. How about a cup of tea between friends?"
I turned back again. "That sounds good." The small smile I allowed to flicker across my face told him that it really did sound good, even if I had never been much of a tea drinker.
He bowed dismissal to those reporting to him and led me out to the balcony overlooking the temple walkway. On the way to his personal lift, neither of us spoke much. Everything I needed to say could wait, and apparently so could anything Baralai needed to as well. The silence was tense, though not angry, if the way he offered his hand in help as I got onto the lift was any indication. While the help was nothing that I needed, I took the hand anyway, although I made sure to let go as soon as I was safely aboard.
Takeoff was gentle, and I hardly noticed we were flying until I looked over the edge to see the temple below me in all its brightness. Someone who never knew Bevelle might have thought this view beautiful. To me, though, the vivid colors were only pretty paper wrapped over dark secrets. I stopped focusing below and started looking ahead at the sky visible between the spires of the city's buildings. Even after spending so much time aboard the Celsius, my joy at moving through the sky had never faded.
"I take it that flying is still your idea of fun," Baralai spoke up, jolting me even though his voice was still the soft, measured praetor's voice. How did he come so close to matching my thoughts? My words didn't ask him that, but when I looked at his intent face, I knew the question was in my eyes.
He averted his gaze, one that must have been locked on me while I was looking at the scenery, but he did answer that silent question. "You looked happy."
The whirring of the lift as it prepared to dock relieved my obligation to respond. With all the silent messages we seemed to be sending to each other, something needed saying. The problem lay in exactly what to say. I wasn't Rikku, who never had a lack of words, even if they weren't the right ones, and I definitely wasn't Yuna, who seemed to always know the right things to say. No, I was the silent Gullwing. Sarcastic remarks came easily, especially when the others seemed to set themselves up for them so easily, but the honest, revealing things never came out without a struggle. And if I were to say anything then, it would have had to be honest and more than a little revealing. Unsure of myself, I said nothing even as I once again took the hand that Baralai offered as I exited the lift.
We were on a balcony, the highest one in the temple, with a view that swept across the entire city. For a minute before we went inside, I drank in the scenery. "The view from here is wonderful," I broke the silence at last.
"Same from here," he commented, leaving ambiguous exactly what he was talking about. A scowl crossed my face as I tried to figure out the messages hidden in his words. His posture, closed as always, revealed nothing; but then again, when I turned towards him, his eyes quickly changed their direction. Away from me. "We should go in," he finally said, leading me to the door leading to his personal living quarters.
The state of his home reflected his workaholism. Clean more through lack of use than care, a fine dust covered many of the surfaces, doorknobs included. The coolness of the air indicated that the heater had not been turned on recently, even in this current cold snap. Baralai worked hard, I always knew that, but until I saw his all but abandoned home I never thought that work could be all he ever did.
"When was the last time you were here?" I asked him. He didn't answer immediately, though judging from the way he slunk into the kitchen to start boiling the water, it had been a while.
When he did answer, it wasn't a direct statement, but rather an evasive one. "New Yevon doesn't run itself. There's always some matter or another that requires my attention." He slumped over as he said this, looking less like the proud leader of one of Spira's largest groups and more like an overworked laborer.
"Always? You don't have someone to keep things running for a few hours while you go do other things? Like sleep?" I paced through the kitchen, hopefully expending some of my energy. Not nervous energy, but just an excess of tension that threatened to spill over.
His rifling through the cupboards to gather cups and tea bags answered that last question: He either didn't want to answer or he didn't know the right words to say. If it were the latter, he wasn't the only one to have that feeling today. "You saw what happened that time when I disappeared, and the mess with Vegnagun. Bevelle was in an uproar, and within just a few days the entirety of New Yevon threatened to split apart at the seams. I can't risk that happening again."
The heels of my boots clicked furiously as I continued my pacing. "If you actually tell people that you're taking a break, I doubt New Yevon would fall apart again. And I'm sure there's at least one person in the ranks competent enough to keep things running while you take a break. There's a former summoner in your ranks, Isaaru, who should be capable enough, even though he did run that tourist attraction in Zanarkand for a bit. I'm sure he wouldn't mind watching over things occasionally."
"Perhaps," Baralai allowed, pouring the boiling water over the tea bags and letting them steep. "Do you want honey in your tea?" he asked as he stirred a spoonful of the amber-colored substance into his own cup.
"No thanks." He offered me the cup without the honey, and I took a sip. The mixture—tasting faintly of flowers and strong black tea—though pleasant, did not seem to fit his personality. When the faint buzz from the liquid reached my already frazzled nerves, I understood why he chose to drink it.
"If you're really tired," I told him, "you should sleep occasionally. What crisis is going on that you have to be constantly on alert?"
"There's no crisis for the moment, but there's always something demanding my attention. We're trying to fill in the holes to the Farplane now before anyone else falls in them, and there have been reports that our security system has been compromised by ten-year-old sphere hunters, of all people."
"Yeah, the Kinderguardians. We ran into them a few times while you were gone—they sneaked in during the commotion. Security was naturally weak then. Your people need to learn how to function even when you don't have direct supervision over them."
If he heard that last part, he pretended he didn't. "And I just received word from Macalania, of all places. Some merchant wants me to restore the temple that sank into the lake or build a town near there now that the woods have disappeared. He tells me that it would give a needed boost to the economy."
A slight smile crossed my face at the mention of Macalania's economy. "You really shouldn't concern yourself with that. O'aka and his brother should have chosen to do business in a better location. The only ones with gil in Macalania these days are the fiends."
"I see." Baralai took another sip of his tea. "How have you been doing lately? The Gullwings are still in business, right?"
"We split up after we destroyed Vegnagun." I informed him.
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that." He did sound sorry to hear that, almost. "Everyone is all right, I hope."
"Everyone's happy with the split." Actually, I was dissatisfied with life away from sphere hunting, but everyone else had moved on and I could have started a new group if I could find people I respected enough to join. And if one of those people had an airship. "They all pretty much moved on. Yuna found the person she was looking for. One of her guardians on her pilgrimage was a blitzball player from Zanarkand, and he disappeared once she had defeated Sin. She hunted spheres so she could find a way to bring him back."
Baralai's droopy eyes widened a bit at this revelation. "There's blitzball in Zanarkand? I thought only monkeys thrived in those ruins." Was this newfound energy of his real? Or was it just a hoax to convince me that he was all right?
"Apparently. It was a different Zanarkand though. Neither of them liked talking about it, and I'm nice enough to let it be. They're happy now, and that's what matters. In fact, they're getting married in a few months in Besaid. You should take some time off then and go to the wedding." When he opened his mouth for a well-mannered protest, I cut him off. "As praetor of New Yevon, it's your duty to congratulate the high summoner in person."
"I see. I suppose I can't offend Lady Yuna." Baralai took another sip and hesitated. Obviously, he had nothing to answer that with. "How are the rest of the Gullwings doing?"
I locked my eyes onto him and tried to decode some possible hidden meaning. Like speaking Al Bhed with only half the primers, I knew real meaning hid behind an apparently meaningless set of words, and yet, while I could figure out the gist of it, the exact meaning remained elusive. I needed Baralai primers to help with those ambiguous statements he was so fond of.
Without any sort of help to figure out the meaning, I answered the statement at face value. "Rikku's with the Machine Faction now. And she and Gippal decided to give each other a second chance. Brother and Buddy are planning on going out to salvage more Airships soon. And Shinra..." I showed Baralai the Commsphere I brought with me, a fragile, teal-colored half-globe. "He's been rebuilding these things, Commspheres, and setting up a network all over Spira. I've been told to give this one to you."
Gingerly, he took the device from me and inspected it. "What does it do?"
"When you, Nooj, and Gippal were missing, we used these Commspheres to communicate with the rest of Spira. Now that there finally seems to be peace, Shinra's trying to get them set up everywhere. There's one at the Youth League headquarters, one on Besaid that Yuna's taking care of, two in Kilika, and we're setting some up in Guadosalam and Mount Gagazet as well. We put up one in Djose for the Machine Faction, but they scrapped it for parts. Again." I cut off my explanation when I realized that despite all the words coming from my mouth, I wasn't saying anything. The way Baralai and I could send so many messages in our silences and yet send so few in our words was funny. Not funny amusing, funny peculiar. "You can use it to keep in touch with everyone. None of this disappearing on us anymore."
"Paine…" Baralai reached out to me with my name. "I haven't disappeared; I've just been busy. You and anyone else can visit me anytime. Anytime." The words were meant to be reassuring, but the message was anything but. Nothing could ever prompt the praetor to relax, and those he was closest to would always be second. His health, of course, was lower than his friends. I studied his face and the paleness that lurked underneath his naturally tan skin, and I only looked away when I noticed his eyes lingering on my face.
"You would still work yourself to death, wouldn't you?" He would; even if the next words out of his mouth contradicted me, his eyes would look away from mine in defeat and his tired body would betray him as it slumped forward.
His eyes looked away, and his body slumped forward. "I'm only working as much as I have to." The Commsphere set aside, Baralai picked up his mug again, his hand trembling for a brief moment. As I stared at it longer, it stopped when its owner figured out that I was watching.
Silence lingered in the air as I considered that last statement, true and yet misleading. True that Bevelle and Yevon, the complex monstrosities that they were, required constant attention. Always tension threatened to spill over from one section of the former clergy to another or from street to street. Misleading in that Baralai, if he were the only one keeping New Yevon together, could still work only as much as was needed and yet never get a minute's respite, much less a full eight hours of sleep. To the public, he looked confident and alert, bearing himself with quiet wisdom, especially for one as young as he was. To me, though, staring over a cup of tea at him, he looked weary.
"You still must not get much sleep, though." Those words weren't mine, even if they came from my mouth. The tone, so concerned, belonged to someone else, a soft, caring person, not the aloof sphere hunter I'd been for so long. The empathy came from some abyss and infected my words.
Baralai, too, showed surprise at what I last said. "You're very perceptive. I sleep when I can," he explained. "What about you? I hope for the sake of example that you're taking good care of yourself, as well."
Touché. My life during the continuing Calm, marked by periods of frenzied activity that led nowhere, followed by periods of contemplation, could, by some standard, be considered healthy. I ate well, slept daily, exercised often, all those things that the healers recommended, and yet I never considered it 'taking care.' It was just maintenance—like a New Yevon guard keeping his weapon in working order. Always ready to go, to defend, to fight if need be, but never with a purpose.
For so long, I chased butterflies of curiosity: the fluttering, happy days of my time recording the group of Crimson Squad trainees who would become some of my best friends; somber and hopeful days in the aftermath of Operation Mi'hen and the destruction of Home, when I learned the Al Bhed language and culture; and finally my time with the Gullwings, searching for and revisiting the ghosts of many pasts. Others chased with me, but one by one, they stopped running, having found what they were looking for. But my place eluded me. Settling down in a home, settling on a dream, none of that came easy to me. I traverse Spira, seeing as close to everything as one individual can and yet finding nothing.
The calm, wise praetor waited for an answer, as he might for a messenger arriving with a report. "I take care of myself," I finally said, choosing my words as he did, true and yet misleading. A competition of language, perception, and gesture started again. Would Baralai figure out the truth behind the words, or would he merely accept them at face value?
I determined from the soft, "Are you happy?" that followed that the first option was correct. The instinct that let him single-handedly lead a whole faction applied not only to politics but to people as well. He dug up the truth the way a Chocobo searched for treasure, or the way an Al Bhed salvaged machina, with a relentless dedication and subtle force.
A life wandering Spira meant facing fiends, other less savory creatures and enough small favors for local populations to leave a mortal woman unsent if she were to fulfill them all, and it was a life that taught valuable lessons about time. The time to press your luck for all it was worth, and the time to play it safe. The time to reveal truth and intentions, and the time to conceal them close to one's breast or behind one's sword. The time to accept a challenge and a time to turn them down. Baralai, though he was neither fiend nor unsavory creature –quite the opposite, in fact – nor a local population looking for a favor—the lessons of the wandering life still applied.
The lesson, and the invaluable instinct that came with it, showed me two choices: elusion or truth. I could attempt to fool someone able to discover and conceal the secrets of Bevelle, which as the conversation went on seemed less likely, or I could cut my losses as they were and speak the truth. Baralai, a friend, a leader—but not my leader—could not be nearly as scary as I had imagined a moment earlier despite the lies that my loud, pounding heart insisted were true.
I chose truth and confiding it to the friend across the table. "I'm not sure where I belong anymore. For so long, I've had goals, and people to pursue them with, dreams if you will. Everything led to bigger adventures, and I fulfilled the majority of my dreams: I found you and Nooj and Gippal; I rode on one of the first airships to fly in Spira's sky in a thousand years; I helped save Spira from Shuyin and Vegnagun; I fought at the side of the High Summoner and one of her guardians as an equal to them, even if I never made a big deal about it. I've accomplished so much, and now, I don't really have a place to go." The words that flowed out so quickly while I spoke them stumbled, as I realized what came next. "I'm– you know what? Forget it."
Nothing followed except for brown eyes that flickered downwards and long, long, sips of what had to be a never-ending cup of tea. When the silence broke, he freed himself from any distraction, forcing a direct gaze into my eyes and setting down the mug with the trademark quiet force I associated with him. "You're lost." While his voice never rose a decibel or note he could still emphasize words, and those words were about as emphasized as he could get. And he had the grace to keep me from stumbling over the usual question when someone knows things they shouldn't. "Paine, when we were in that desert training, you were as much of our group as the rest of us, even if you weren't trying out for the Crimson Squad. We talked of our pasts and our backgrounds. You were..." He trailed off, intentionally leaving a space open for me to insert commentary.
"I was a sphere recorder for the Luca news." I fulfilled my role in this conversation.
And Baralai fulfilled his by moving on with his explanation, examining me with the eye of one attuned to people. "You were good at what you did. It was safe, and it paid enough gil to buy you Blitzball season tickets. Yet you chose to give that up to record a bunch of training exercises in the Bikanel desert. You've never been one to just settle, not when we first met, not now. And with the Calm underway and no imminent goals, you can't find anything left to strive for and you don't want to rest." The verbal attack resided, leaving discovery in its wake, if not a solution.
He offered me a solution, one we both knew I would never accept, and the mask he wore so well lifted briefly. "If you were one to stay in one place, I would ask you to stay in Bevelle. There will always be a need in the temples for someone as sensitive and intelligent as you are with your range of skills. Sometimes you don't need to search to find things; sometimes you just need to stop searching, and see what's been visible all along. Or you need to have something to search and finding whatever it is doesn't matter. I don't always know, but I'll tell you this. You are always welcome here." In the slipping of his mask, not a single ounce of composure was lost, and it was the same as he replaced it.
Such high praise from an observer of people, one of the few whose opinion mattered. An undignified blush threatened to cross my face and I struggled to suppress it, successfully, I hoped. "Thank you. Even if we both know that I could never live here."
Bevelle had Baralai and secrets, two things that overlapped, but not the same, but that's all it had. I had been all over Spira, from Besaid to the south, Zanarkand to the north, Bikanel to the east, and even Omega Ruins to the west. With the exception of that last, very brief sojourn, Bevelle was easily my least favorite place. As far as the two major cities went, give me the bright lights and playful atmosphere of Luca over the gaudy formality of Bevelle. For beautiful vistas, give me the magic of Macalania and the endless plains of the Calm Lands over crowded spires of city buildings. If there were one place in Spira that I could be happy never seeing again, it would be this harsh metropolis that hid like a coward behind a facade of grandeur.
No. I couldn't give up Bevelle, no matter how much I hated this place. The secrets that demanded unearthing and the praetor who buried them so well would always draw me back, but they couldn't make me stay. That I refused to let happen. Wandering was the only home I had; never was I so at home as when I was on the road. I don't believe in fate, but if I did, I would believe it was mine to wander Spira for eternity. Maybe like Maechen, I would wrap myself up so tightly in traveling and observing that I would forget my own life and death. The possibility was there, and so was the question of whether that was a possibility that I could embrace. It meant a lonely life, but not necessarily a sad one.
Lonely lives are everywhere. The life of an observer is lonely; so is that of a single leader. My life. Baralai's life. So similar, and yet so different. The others could relate somewhat. Nooj ran the Youth League after all, but he had Lucil to help him out, and Leblanc to pester him; he was a hero and a leader who would never be alone. Gippal, who could figure? He formed bonds like he fixed machina, with utmost skill and a casual confidence; one could almost call it cockiness. Rikku was similar, ready to pester and annoy her way into the hearts of anyone she met. If their pasts ever affected them, the Al Bhed pair concealed it better than anyone else in Spira. Yuna had the loneliest view as the High Summoner, but someone special stayed close to her, always. Baralai and I, we were alone. Or were we? We were connected by the same loneliness that separated us from everyone else.
Long thoughts had made for tepid tea, I noticed, as I took a small sip and set aside the cup for good.
Baralai revived the dead conversation "My offer always stands." He too set aside his cup after one last sip, sealing a mutual agreement that my little exercise in soul searching had ended, and his little break from the pressures of New Yevon had ended as well. He pulled his chair out from the table and stood up. I followed suit. "One more thing," he requested as he procured two spheres from his pocket, one the generic pearly peach color of modern spheres, the other a faded red that had been standard for the Crimson Squad. "This one is for Nooj," he said referring to the pearly one "It details our work sealing up the holes to the Farplane. The other one's for you, and..."
"And?" I prompted, wondering what Baralai could possibly have that would be of interest.
He spent his time gathering his words, just as a leader was supposed to do when possibly revealing something sensitive. Then, a playful smile crossed his face. "You'll just have to see for yourself."
The shield of reserve dropped for the time being. "And you get some sleep," I returned, tousling his perfect white hair into a state of dishevelment. He responded with a quick hug, really just a squeeze across the shoulders that lingered long enough to not be an accidental touch. We parted quickly, just soon enough that the shield that always stood between us could be erected anew without causing undue embarrassment to either of us.
Together, we walked back to the lift and rode it back to the temple, silence once again hanging in the air. With the sphere from Nooj tucked safely away in a secret pocket, I fingered the crimson one left to me. Though I couldn't see the contents now, imagination and ideas blended together to create a number of possibilities: Some frightening, some exhilarating, and some a cliché blend of both that caused rushing blood and a pounding heart. As Rikku, the wise ditz, had once said: It was the feeling of being connected to someone special.
The peaceful silence ended too soon and the lift descended to its starting point on the temple walkway. Confident leader replaced weary friend as Baralai returned to his job leading a major political faction into the future, uncovering and hiding secrets, leaving me to cross the Highbridge by myself.
"Take care of yourself," I cautioned as I left him to the mercy of priests, acolytes, and messengers, and rode down to the lower floor.
My concern was dismissed with an apologetic smile. "Remember, you're welcome back anytime."
The journey back to the airship blessed me with time alone to contemplate a few things. Bevelle was home to things concealed and swept away and things that lurked in plain sight, always there, but never noticed until the seeker was ready to find them. Through the adventures that I had in that temple as a Gullwing, I learned that the concealed things slid out all too easily if one were persistent enough. And now, on my own, Bevelle threatened to teach me a new lesson: No one and nothing is hiding what I'm missing right now, not Baralai, not Bevelle, not Yevon, not any sphere except the one I clutch in my hand, and that would soon reveal the knowledge I needed. If something remained hidden now, my eyes just weren't looking hard enough.
I would watch that sphere, and I would seek. Yes, and I would find something.
***
Author's notes: Hah! I have done it! I have proven that I can write a Paine/Baralai fic and keep them both in some sort of character. Well, what I think is in character anyway. And yes, it ends there. Deal.
This fic is dedicated to Koorino Megumi, who is my regular beta-reader, and a true goddess of grammar and characterization. It's her birthday today (April 10), and thus she deserves ficcage and happy wishes. Even if you hate or have nothing to say about this story, please review this to wish her a happy birthday. Much thanks.
Also, much thanks to my guest beta-readers: Starhealer and Chevira Lowe. This has only been half betaed so far, so this version will get replaced by something better when the other beta *coughChevscough* sends me the requisite list of imperfections.