The wait to find water was agonizing. By the time they reached the shore of a glittering pond, it was late afternoon and the light was beginning to turn soft and golden. Poor Melody was getting quite sunburned because her skin was so fair, but she tried not to pay attention to it. They boiled the water first to make sure it was safe, then Seymour taught Melody the Blizzard spell so that they could have cold drinks. The wetness eased the dry ache in his throat and his raspy voice soon resumed its tenor smoothness. Kevin drank straight from the pond before going off in search of tasty seeds.

"I wonder if we should tie her up," Melody said.

Seymour's response surprised her:

"Leave her be. If we haven't gotten rid of her by now, she'll never leave. Not to mention she'll need to be able to run if we're attacked again. She can't fight if she's tied."

Melody nodded.

"I don't think she'd like it anyway."

Both of them were sore and tired from fighting fiends on the way up here. While Melody's physical fighting and magic were both improving, she was still taking quite a beating. Then there had been the Al Bhed machina to deal with—they were trying to learn how to dismantle the annoyances, but they usually ended up blasting them apart with lightning out of frustration. Here, though, there seemed to be far fewer of them. Since night was coming, Seymour hoped they would have some peace. They were in the open, unfortunately, and the stretch of the Calm Lands went on for days. He didn't want to think about what might happen if anyone tracked them here, so he pushed it away from his mind. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on one's perspective—Melody distracted him. He saw her tug her dress up over her head. Before he could ask what in the Farplane she was doing, she cannon-balled into the water and threw a wave of crystalline droplets down the front of his robes. Seymour jumped up, startled and aptly soaked. She resurfaced after a second, blue-black curls plastered flat.

"Ah…nice in here. You should join me," she said, shivering a bit.

"It looks a bit cold," he observed.

"You big baby!" she shuddered a little bit more, but seemed determined to prove a point, "You come all this way looking for water and you won't even enjoy it!"

He crossed his arms and gave her a Look—the kind of look an adult gives a child when they're not pleased.

"BABY!" Melody yelled accusingly. Kevin's head snapped up, her beak full of some kind of greens.

"Will you please be quiet? You'll attract every fiend in a five-mile radius!" Seymour hissed.

"Baby!" Melody hissed back.

The biggest sigh she'd ever seen heaved out of his ribs. He tugged the fastenings on the front of his robes open and shrugged his shoulders and arms out. Not really the kind of guy who treasured swimming in his underwear, he tied his sleeves around his waist so that he ended up with a long pseudo-kilt. If something happened, he could always get the upper part of the robe back on in a hurry. The cape that Melody had gotten for him was crumpled up inside his bag, forgotten long ago due to the heat. He tugged his feet out of his boots and waded in. The chill surprised him—he wasn't sure how the water could be this cold. Perhaps it was simply the contrast. Either way, he felt every muscle in his body tightening up as he forced himself to go in up to his neck.

"There. Satisfied?" he asked. Melody shook her head.

"You're not all the way wet yet."

She grabbed hold of him and yanked him under before he could protest. Thrashing around, he tried to escape her grip only for her to let go of him quite suddenly. A stream of water blew out from between his lips with a noisy "PFFFFF!"

"I baptize you in the name of the Lord," Melody said smugly. Seymour was too busy trying to get the water out of his mouth and nose at first to ask her what she had been thinking. Then, he saw it. The white lion from earlier was sitting some distance away, but there was no mistaking its size or color. He had just registered his presence when the great lion vanished again.

"Is this always what it's like? Drowning people?" Seymour demanded, wiping his face with his hand, "it seems rather contradictory to bring me back from the dead just to kill me again."

"Nobody ever died from being baptized," Melody responded, "and anyway, you were supposed to hold your breath."

"My apologies," he snapped, though it was a bit more playful sounding than he intended. She swam in a circle around him.

"Now that I'm used to the cold, it's kind of nice in here," Melody sighed, "it makes my skin numb."

Seymour was fortunate that Guado skin—even half Guado—was less vulnerable to the elements than human skin. His tanned browner, taking on the subtle wood-grain pattern of his father's race. He both liked and despised it all at once. He had never given much thought to his appearance, but now he imagined how wild he must look. Worse, the horn-like locks that had once protruded from either side of his head were starting to grow back. Though they were no longer than the rest of his hair as of yet, they still stuck up and wouldn't stay flat for long. His robes despite being newer were already dusty and torn. Being washed here in the pond would make a marginal difference, but not much of one.

"What's on your mind?" Melody asked, seeing the distance growing in his pale lavender eyes.

"I was just wondering…" he shook his head. It was that insecure shake that someone gives when what they want to say seems stupid to them.

"Go on," Melody prompted. Looking down at the water rippling just below his collarbone, Seymour gathered his courage.

"I was wondering if I'm doomed to roam Spira forever," Seymour confessed, "if I must always wake up somewhere else every day. I had hoped to return to Guadosalam, maybe invite you to stay as my guest if you were so inclined. Now…I feel hopelessly lost."

It was the closest she'd ever come to hearing him give a voice to what was really in his heart. Looking all around them at the waving grasses, the wild Chocobo herds that sprinted past in plumes of brilliant yellow, and the distant mountains, Seymour felt very small. In the past, he'd always viewed himself as a force to be reckoned with, both in mind, in body, and in power. But now, he was beginning to see just how small he really was. The world had gone on without him—quite well, in fact.

"You won't be forever," Melody informed him, "half the reason we're taking this little road trip is to help you find a home."

"And the rest?" he inquired cautiously.

"To save your soul," she responded, "by showing you how much better it is to value life over death."

She floated on her back, gazing up at the big, empty sky. To Seymour, it was empty save for the white and gray clouds. To her, however, any number of things might be up there. She always seemed to see things that weren't there, or at least weren't readily visible to him.

"How do you do it? How do you feel such certainty in everything?" he asked.

"Because I have no reason to worry," Melody answered, "Father has never given me reason to doubt Him. It's so much better to have something to hang onto, something that gives you hope. Everything else is negotiable after that. We're not guaranteed tomorrow, but we are promised an eternity."

She had her eyes closed. He watched the beads of water on her face, her bare ribs as she breathed, bobbing gently on the water's surface. Her simple black undergarments were even more conservative than most of the bathing suits the girls wore here on Spira. She was the picture of serenity right now. It was odd that he, a man and a former Maester, would wish he had her confidence in this moment. The only thing she lacked was a flower in her hair like some of the lilies that grew at the water's edge. He toyed with idea of picking one, but he never did for some reason. Maybe it was that he was too comfortable on the rock he was sitting on while he watched his robes billowing out in the waves. Maybe it was because he was too tired or just too lazy. He never did figure out why, though he would ask himself that question later.

Evening began to creep up on them. Both of them having played a few childish games like chase were even more tired and now very water-logged by the time they got out. Melody had thankfully practiced her Fire spell and was drying off by turning the water to steam. It didn't feel great on the sunburns, but it was effective. Seymour did the same before they decided to pack it in for the night.

"I don't think it would be wise to start a fire here," he said as the last bit of twilight faded them into soft blue hues, "the machina sensors would detect it."

"Okay," she said reluctantly. Their dinner was frugal and cold, consisting of leftovers and plain water, but it filled them up at least. Melody was too tired to be ungrateful for it and fell asleep promptly. Seymour had to stifle a smile when he saw Melody curling up under one of Kevin's wings.

"Good night," he said quietly. He didn't particularly want to, but he took the first watch. Now that he was full, he had a difficult time staying awake. The situation was remedied for a little while when his bladder started to fill up from drinking so much and he paced back and forth, trying to use the discomfort to his advantage. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he walked away to relieve the pressure. The unwelcome drowsiness soon came back with a vengeance coupled with his newly relaxed body and he sagged against a nearby tree trunk. There were so few trees out here that even a little one like this was a rarity, but they always grew near water. He told himself that he would just rest his back against its sturdy little trunk, but he eventually slumped into the grass. It couldn't have been more than two or three hours and his companion needed more sleep than that…he knew she'd have trouble staying awake without her beloved coffee which they'd run out of a few days ago. He pinched himself and tried to sit upright, but his body began to buckle under the weight of his exhaustion. His pale lavender eyes began to slide closed. Soon, despite his enormous efforts to keep awake, his chin sagged to his knees and he was soon fast asleep. He was unaware of the creeping shadows, of the dart that hit Kevin in the hindquarters. Perhaps the only saving grace to his freedom was that his indistinct shape in the faint starlight resembled that of a boulder or that the intruders to their peaceful little campsite were in a big hurry.

When Seymour woke, morning had come cool and pale. Ashamed that he'd fallen asleep despite trying so hard not to, he shivered and tugged his robes in closer. For being such a hot day, things had cooled off fast! He stretched the stiffness out of his body and rose. Turning to where Kevin and Melody had been the night before, he froze mid-stretch, bewildered. The air whooshed out of his lungs before it caught painfully in his chest. There was a big flattened circle where Kevin's body had rested and a lingering yellow feather there, but no Kevin. Both their packs were gone, as was his guardian. Seymour noticed something glinting in the grass and moved to pick it up. It was an empty syringe with a faint trace of blood on the needle. By the musky smell, it was not Melody's, but Kevin's. Trying to silence the growing hysteria in his mind, Seymour sniffed the air like a bloodhound. The cold steely traces of machinery were present, as were the distinct scents of three male youths. His blood began to boil. The age that he detected them to be was either late adolescence or early adulthood when testosterone and stupidity abounded. In the old days, he would emit a strong sulphuric scent that would warn anyone too close to flee just before a barrage of random black spells would go in all directions. It was the only way he'd been able to vent his rage before he'd learned to control his emotions so tightly. That smell was coming out of him strongly and his pupils had dilated when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. He was about to blast whatever it was apart with a Firaga spell when he noticed that it was white. Lowering his flaming hands, Seymour realized it was that lion again.

"My apologies," he said quietly, letting the flames licking his fingers go out completely, "I did not realize it was you."

The lion stood patiently, regarding him with an expression that Seymour did not like. He felt like one of those nude drawings in an art book, or perhaps the anatomy charts in a biology book. He felt like this creature was seeing his insides—past the skin, the muscle, and the viscera into his soul. It made him horribly uncomfortable.

"I don't know where Melody is," he said, squirming awkwardly, "I smell the exhaust from an airship, but it's hours old. I don't even know where to begin…I don't know where they took her."

The lion's gaze was steady. It wasn't the least bit accusatory, though it still penetrated.

"I don't know why or how it happened…I'm sorry. I never meant to lose her."

The lion didn't move or even blink. Other than its sides moving gently with each breath, it didn't give any acknowledgements. It continued to stare steadily into his eyes.

"You know where she is, don't you? Aren't you going to help her?" Seymour demanded suddenly, losing his patience. The lion was as still as a statue. He felt his frustrations welling up again.

"If not, will you at least tell me where she is so that I can help her? I owe her that much," Seymour demanded.

The lion finally moved. It twitched its tail and tilted its head in a this way gesture. Seymour chased after it, getting winded quickly because the lion was flat out sprinting. If it got too far ahead of Seymour, it would pause just long enough for him to sort of get caught up. This went on for at least half an hour. They reached a cave that Seymour didn't like the looks of, but he followed the lion's paintbrush-like tail inside anyway. He couldn't see a thing and was fumbling around in the dark when there was a flare of light that blinded him. A chorus of gasps followed and the last thing he felt was a sharp pain in his neck before he went unconscious.

"Never thought I'd see him again, ya?"

"I wonder what on earth he was chasing. He seemed to be running awfully fast for someone with no place to go."

"Well, he's definitely not going anywhere now. I've made sure of it. Yunie's going to get rid of him once and for all."

"We still don't know where his companion went. And that's going to cause trouble if she catches up to us."

Seymour blinked against the bright light. Then, his stomach heaved and he threw up very violently. Several cries of disgust chorused around him.

"Must be a reaction to the sedative…probably should have used magic…"

"He's immune to it, remember?"

Seymour coughed weakly and some kind soul mopped away the vomit dribbling down his chin. He couldn't seem to move his arms or legs and he'd barely turned his head to the side in time—his whole body felt stuck somehow. The overpowering stench of lemon-scented disinfectant quickly drowned out the bitter sick smell as his eyes began to adjust to the fluorescent brightness. He was in a very sterile-looking interior that was similar to a hospital room and laying on a bed that held him bound at the wrists, across his chest/stomach region, and around his legs to where he couldn't move no matter how much he tried. All around him were several very unfriendly faces, most of which he recognized and a few that he didn't. Seymour knew immediately that he was in very serious trouble. He first noticed the spike of orangey-hued hair and tanned skin because they were so bright. To the right of that was a dark bun stuck through with chopstick-like hair adornments and several long dark braids. Then there was a mop of strawberry-blonde hair with glaring green eyes that had spiral-shaped pupils. One he didn't recognize was a silver-haired girl with all-black attire—not that he'd want to cross her if he could help it. Notably absent was the red-garbed samurai-like man, the blue-furred Ronso with silver hair, and the spiky-haired blonde youth with the big mouth. Seymour thought about asking where they were, but his tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth for the moment. He felt sluggish and hazy as if he were caught in some nightmare.

Then, the tapping of boots on the tiled floor and the sweet lavender-like smell marred with gunpowder got his attention.

This cannot be… he thought faintly. His vision actually blurred a little before it cleared again. A fifth face had joined the others and this one he knew the best out of all of them. Framed by chocolate-colored hair, pale with disbelief that echoed his own, her mismatched one-blue-and-one-green eye stared down into his dazed lavender ones.

"Lady Yuna…" he gasped hoarsely, throat still stinging from the acid. A sharp pain in the side of his face caused his vision to blossom into lovely shades of red and orange just before blackness claimed him. He was unaware of the trickle of blood that threaded down his lip or the nasty bruise that would later form on his tanned skin.

Yuna rubbed her small fist and hoped her impulsive moment wouldn't prove to have hurt her worse than him. It was so rare that she lost her temper like this that everyone was staring open-mouthed at her. Thankfully, they were smart enough not to comment and left well enough alone.

"My staff," she said curtly. Wakka handed it to her as quickly as he could and nearly dropped it in his eagerness. She took the long rodlike object in her hands and began to dance. It wasn't as smooth and calm and graceful as it had once been—after all this time, she was out of practice—but it was well enough. Confident that she would be rid of Seymour Guado once more, she poured her concentration into the task at hand. What she didn't notice at first was that his Pyreflies weren't appearing and his body wasn't breaking up. About halfway through, her fury was replaced with puzzlement, then finally fear. Absolutely nothing had changed—Seymour still lay there unconscious from the hit. His ribs continued to rise and fall evenly.

"Why isn't he going away?!" she asked, her voice sounding more high-pitched and hysterical than she meant.

"I don't know…" Wakka replied. It was then that he acted on impulse. He pressed his fingers into Seymour's throat and drew back, paling, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Whoah! He has a pulse! Yuna, he's alive!"

Yuna's face went from pale to ashen.

"That….can't be…"

She pressed the heel of her hand hard into Seymour's chest. As much as she didn't want to believe it, the evidence was right there: a hard throb against her palm.

"But he was dead! We killed him, what, three times?!" Rikku asked incredulously.

"Four," Yuna said grimly, "and I Sent him the last time…"

She sagged to the floor suddenly, all her strength gone. They had been trying to track Seymour down for ages now and the end result was that she couldn't Send him after all.

"So what? We kill him again?" a cool voice asked from across the room. It was one of the Al-Bhed crew that had been present at the destruction of Home. Gina had no lost love for the Guado and had even aided the Ronso in helping wipe them out. She'd repented of her ways somewhere along the line, but she still didn't have qualms about executions.

"Ordinarily, I'd argue with you on that, but I just don't know…" Wakka murmured.

"Perhaps we should wait until he comes around and find out what he knows," Lulu suggested, "if someone is bringing back the dead, what is to stop them from bringing back Sin?"

Yuna shuddered. She didn't want to think about such a possibility. She had defeated Sin—and Yu Yevon himself—by killing everyone. She'd had to kill every last one of her Aeons which was painful. She'd had to kill Sir Jecht in a way. She'd even indirectly contributed to Tidus's end because his entire existence was tied to that of the sleeping Fayth. Once they were allowed to stop dreaming, Tidus had faded away forever.

This wasn't part of the deal…I beat Sin for good…I gave up so much for Spira…for everyone…why is this happening?!

But she drew herself upright, refusing to be weak. Those days were over.

"We will," she said firmly, "Rikku? Feel like testing out that anti-magic thing you were working on?"

"On it!" Her Al-Bhed cousin cheerfully sprinted off to retrieve the heavy black bracelet that they were testing and brought it back within a minute or two. She snapped it onto Seymour's wrist with a smug smile.

"I'd like to see him Thundaga his way out of this!" she said with gleeful vengeance.

"And if he does," Lulu said, watching the sparks of magic gather in her own palm, "we'll be ready."

While Seymour was dealing with one of the worst headaches of his life on board the airship, he was unaware that he and Melody had passed right by each other. On a separate airship, the guardian angel woke bound and gagged in what could only be a cargo hold. Kevin was missing and so was Seymour. She felt disoriented and fuzzy.

"Well…you were a bit of a challenge to track down," said a soft, yet very threatening voice, "I do hope you'll be a good girl for us. It would be a shame to spend the remainder of your trip down here—it's so degrading."

Melody blinked and noticed a man kneeling in front of her. There was something that seemed oddly familiar about him, but she couldn't place him. He had chin-length honey-colored hair and blue eyes.

"Do I know you?" she asked drowsily. The man chuckled.

"Not yet. But you will. You can call me William."

He glanced up at his two very burly guards.

"Let's take her upstairs, shall we? I doubt she'll give us any trouble."

They hoisted Melody off the floor and took her to a tiny bedroom that was no larger than a jail cell.

"What do you want?" Melody asked when they plopped her unceremoniously on the bed.

"I was there during that massive fiend attack," William responded, "and just before it, I heard you sing. You haven't the slightest idea of what goes on around you when you sing, do you?"

Melody shrugged.

"There was a man in that crowd that was fatally ill—dying, in fact," William explained, "and you healed him. You were completely unaware of it, but he brushed past you and his illness vanished."

"How do you know it was me?" she asked. She wasn't that into spending any more time with William than she had to—she could smell the sin on him.

"Because I was that man," William said with a big smile, "I was the one you saved. And the time has come now to repay that favor. We have to share your gift with all of Spira."

"That's a nice thought," Melody responded, "but someone else needs me right now and I really need to get back to him. He was under my care, you see."

"I'm sure he'll manage," William responded, "besides…I can't possibly let you slip away now. You're a very special woman and we need you."

"For what?" Melody asked, starting to feel a little sweaty.

"For the Via Infinito," he responded, "we know you can do more than just heal people. We know you can bring them back."

"H-how?" she asked shakily.

"Because…one of my crew was down there that night…poor bugger never made out, but we found his sphere. He recorded everything."

Melody gulped, her face going pale.

"Please, Mr. William…I can't…I can only do that when Father says its okay…"

"But now you work for me," William said quietly, "no objections. I see that you're treated well and that you have all you need. In return…"

He leaned in close so that Melody could still smell the cigar smoke on his breath:

"…I keep Maester Seymour's renewed existence a secret from Spira. Sound good to you?"

Melody gulped again.

"And if I say no?" she asked tremulously.

"Then we kill him and you'll stay with us anyway," William shrugged, "you may as well go with it. At least you'll get something you want. It's nothing to me whether that bastard lives or dies. All the magic in the world won't save him from a bullet in the brain."

Melody was crying silently as he offered her the clipboard to sign. She noticed, oddly enough, that the ink in the pen was bright red.

"Now…get some rest. We're going to have a lot of work to do," William said, almost sing-song-like. He snapped his fingers and the goons followed him out. Melody heard the door slam closed and the lock click.

Please, Father…watch over Seymour and please don't let these men be able to use my power for bad stuff… she prayed, please let Seymour be all right wherever he is…