"… what is the hurry, man?!"

"I will tell you what the hurry is!"

A sudden wave of dread washed over Braska when Auron stomped off with that last, ground out sentence, Jecht in pursuit hot on his heels. Even from a distance, Braska could see that his old friend and trusted guardian was shaking as he went, broad shoulders trembling with a fury and misery he had denied himself the right to show, and all of a sudden, Braska felt like he knew what Auron was about to do. Without another thought he scrambled to his feet, chasing after the both of them, the movie sphere forgotten between his numb fingers. "Auron! Auron, don't!"

His call went unheard over the raised voices of his friends. The underlying anxiety which had only grown worse the closer their little group got to Mount Gagazete had reached its peak, and it all was exploding outwards in heated words and court, harsh movements. It very much felt like a nightmare, Braska reflected dimly as he hurried to catch up, a bad dream where one would run and run and still wasn't able to make it in time.

He should have seen it coming. He should have – he had known Auron was suffering, silently, trying and failing to bury all his worries and fears under forced distanced cool, with Jecht none the wiser as to why their companion got moodier and angrier the closer they got to the end. If Braska had only acted earlier on that knowledge, then he could have… should have…

Well, what? Never taken Auron as his guardian? Not have taken Jecht with them? Tell Jecht earlier?

All of those options seemed far away, and too impossible to even comprehend. And now it was all to late.

"Oh yeah?!" Jecht came to a skidding stop shortly after they had turned the corner, the travel agency now out of view. Standing tall, he threw his arms up and wide; a gesture of Hit me with it. "Go ahead! Tell me! 'Cause it sure as shit is starting to get on my last nerve that I can't do anything right in your eyes without even knowing why, Mister Oh-so-high-and-mighty!"

Auron's forward momentum ceased, restless energy not dissipating in the least when he instead whipped around on is heels, eyes flashing, hands shaking. It was doubtful that anyone had ever seen him this shaken up. "Tell you? Tell you?! If you had paid even the least bit of attention to anything on this journey but your drinking and your babblingof your home, then you would know what this pilgrimage means to us – for us! Instead this is some kind of pleasure cruise for you-…!"

"You think I don't realize – that I didn't see what Sin does to Spira – I agreed to help you, did I not?! I'm bringing Braska to that mountain, like I promised, but you still don't seem to believe that even a little bit-…"

"You still don't understand at all!"

"Then make me, dammit!"

"Braska is going to die for this!"

The words hit like a thunderclap, echoing of the mountain walls around them. And all of a sudden everything was silent again. Silent and far from calm.

Braska slammed his eyes shut, breath catching in a throat too tight. He very much felt like the world was about to start crumbling around him.

"…What?" Jecht's voice was uncharacteristically quiet, almost soft. The usual boisterous strength which was his – their – driving force so often had obviously fled him as he stared at Auron with a look of such disbelief as if the other had punched him in the face out of the blue.

In turn, Auron looked no better. Shoulders still heaving as if he had fought a battle and lost, he did not look enraged anymore. He was rapidly paling, looking ready to faint with how fast his color was leaving him. His gaze very obviously did not stray towards Braska even once as he spoke, voice hollow, "The Final Summoning takes the user's life force. Performing it, slaying Sin… it is only possible in exchange for a summoner's life. All of Spira knows it. Everyone."

"Everyone knows," Jecht echoed, some strength returning to his voice. With it came the emotions. Disbelief. Understanding. Then – the first current of anger as he said, slow and gradually gaining volume, "When was I going to know, eh?"

That, and the way Auron visibly winced as if stabbed at the clear accusation, finally had Braska finding his voice again. Taking a deep breath, he spoke up firmly, "Do not blame Auron for this, Jecht. He kept quiet not because of you, but out of loyalty to me."

"Blame him?! Oh, I was not going to, alright!"

And with that, Jecht moved in a flash, lashing out bodily where Auron had done it in words earlier. Before Braska could so much as blink the other man was on him, fingers fisting in the front of his robes and body slamming against his with such a force it knocked him backwards against the cliffs bordering on the road. The air was knocked out of the summoner with an Oomph as his back met was met with resistance, and his head knocked painfully against stone.

"Have you lost your damn mind?!" Jecht snarled right in his face, teeth flashing and eyes burning.

"Jecht!" Auron's voice came from somewhere outside of Braska's field of view. A beat later the warrior was there, hand gripping tightly onto Jecht's wrist in a futile try to get him to back off. "Do not-…!"

"Shaddup, Auron! He's going to answer me this!" The fist still digging into the summoner's robes shook him back and forth; not enough to throw him back against the cliffs again, but enough to make his teeth clack together uncomfortably. "What – were – you – thinking?!"

Over the pounding of his head, Braska raised his chin high and looked the furious man straight in the eye. Even in the face of all this unbridled rage, he did not feel afraid of the other; recognizing the anger for the pain and shock it really was. He felt oddly calm, now that the truth was out in the open. Absolutely secure as he spoke, no tremor to his voice, "If it means Spira's safety and peace for its people, I will gladly give my own life."

With a quiet grunt, Jecht reared back as if slapped, eyes wide and wild and searching. Braska did not back down, willing himself to let his determination show clearly on his face. I will not be persuaded in this, he tried to say without voicing it, Do not think I did not think this over and over again until I felt like I was going mad with it.

For a moment they stood like that, faces only inches apart, staring each other down. Then Jecht spit out at a bit-off, hearty curse and released Braska with a shove, stepping back from him as if suddenly burned. One quick hard glance at Auron and the man slowly released his wrist, allowing Jecht to continue his retreat; one, two steps, enough until he could turn around and kick the opposite side's cliff with another, louder swear. "Damn it! Damn it all!"

A fist hit solid stone with a loud Crack which immediately made Braska wince. Healer's instinct took over, and he made to take a step forward, stop the other from hurting himself further. The moment his robes swished with the step, however, Jecht's head whipped around, wild red eyes pinning him down and effectively halting his approach.

"Don't," the man snapped with a force usually reserved for fiends. "Don't come anycloser, Braska, or I swear I will be punching you next!"

"You would have every right to," Braska agreed with a heavy heart.

The laughter answering him was a brittle, grating thing. "Hah! How generous of you to notice!"

"I never meant to keep it from you for so long."

"Yeah? Well, fuck that! Because you did!"

Braska's shoulder drew up defensively; not because of the shouts volleying back at him from the high walls around them, but because of the shame and guilt welling up inside him. "Jecht, I am truly-…"

"Oh, shove it! I don't want to hear any more of your shit right now!"

Braska felt frozen, distantly aware that Auron fared no better, while he watched Jecht whirl around and march off with the air of a man who would not be stopped by anything. Marching off not towards the agency where they had turned in for the night, but towards the Macalania Woods instead. The opposite way of their destination.

"Jecht," his voice sounded as if it was coming from far away and he shook himself, trying again. "Jecht!"

There was no reaction; no insult hurled his way, no dismissive gesture. Somehow that was worse. Jecht kept walking and walking until his shape was only a tiny spot amidst the gargantuan trees. A moment later the shadows between the trunks swallowed him up and he was gone.

And this time, Braska had no clue if the man would return.

It could have been mere seconds, minutes, or entire hours later when Auron spoke up, voice quiet and shattered. "… Lord Braska, I… I am sorry. I let my emotions take control and… I have failed you."

"No, Auron." The denial was easy. His next words were not. "I am the one who failed."

Braska turned and found his remaining guardian's gaze on him, wide-eyed and startled. It made him even sadder, somehow. You truly believe I could do no wrong, don't you. Even after everything I put you through.

Shaking his head, he reached out, placing a hand on Auron's shoulder in a way that, he hoped, would be the comfort he had not given him during the entirety of this journey. "I failed both of you, my friend."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FFX ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their return to the travel agency was a subdued one; worlds away from the exuberant mood they had been in when first arriving here, giddy with the prospect of finally having a real roof over their heads and a hearty meal in their future.

Now sleep and food were the furthest thing from Braska's mind, even though he did feel exhausted to the bone. He knew it would not be cured even if he had managed to sleep through the next few days. This was not sleepiness, it was utter and true weariness. Weariness of this journey; of the sacrifices he had to make, in the past and in the future.

Stop it. He rubbed a tired hand over his face while he sank onto the edge of the very same bed he had been so looking forward to, and which now seemed so uninviting. Screwing his eyes shut, he tried to fight down the swell of bitter emotions. You went over this already. Don't think about it, or you will never make it to Zanarkand.

If there even was a chance of reaching it, still, with only the two of them. Not that he doubted Auron's power and dedication, or his own prowess. But Jecht had been a central part of their journey for so long, both as his guardian and their friend. Should he really not return then the task before them would become all the more daunting, nearly impossible, Braska felt.

Distractedly, he rubbed his cold hands over the outer layer of his robes, searching for friction and warmth. He had to be ready; they needed to prepare for the possibility of Jecht not returning; they needed to reach Zanarkand, whatever it would take…

In his aimless gesture, his hand met a round, hard shape hidden under the cloth. A What…? flashed through his mind, cutting off the downwards spiral of worries. With a frown, he fished the object out of his robes – and almost dropped it back to the ground as he recognized it: Jecht's movie sphere, given to him to record a, quote, "good group picture to show back home".

He hadn't even noticed that he had pocketed it.

Without thinking, Braska pressed against it, starting the recording. Later, he would not have been able to tell anyone who asked why he did it; maybe because of some twisted kind of masochism. Whatever the reason was, it still pained him near physically when light chatter filled the room, teasing and unbothered.

"Auron, could you stand closer to him? - Good, that should do it."

"What's the matter? Afraid I might bite?"

"Jecht…"

"Braska! You should take one too! It would make a great gift for little Yuna!"

"I suppose."

"Lord Braska… we shouldn't be wasting our time like this."

"What's the hurry, man?!"

"I will tell you what the hurry is!"

"Auron!..."

The record cut off abruptly. He must have turned it off by accident when he had hurried to catch up to his friends. Braska was glad for it; he did not see what had happened after; not when it was still so very clear in his mind. All of that had only happened minutes ago, and now it felt like an eternity.

He nearly jumped when a throat was cleared next to him. He had completely forgotten that Auron was still in the same room. His guardian was clearly hovering somewhere to his side, not daring to approach completely, but still trying for a reassuring tone as he murmured, "I'm sure he will come back, Lord Braska."

Half a smile tugged at his lips, gone again before Braska could do more than look up at Auron. "Don't mind me saying this, Auron, but it is unusual for you to be the positive one."

"Not really positive." Auron's expression caught somewhere between stubborn and sheepish. "Rational. For all his faults, Jecht does keep his promises. And he did vow to get you to Zanarkand."

"And I never doubted he would." This time, the smile managed to take shape on his features, wry and pained. "But then, he wasn't aware that I was lying to him when he chose to make that vow."

"Lord Braska! You were not lying-…!"

A raised hand stopped the protest before it could really form. "Don't, Auron. It's kind of you to say, but omitting the truth this entire time is no better than had I been lying to his face. I see that now."

Although abandoning his first protest, Auron still shook his head, jaw set stubbornly. "You thought you were doing the right thing."

"Maybe," Braska retorted, a hint of steel slipping into his voice against his will. "But Jecht had the right to know everything this pilgrimage entailed before agreeing to it, and I took that right from him. My reasons for it don't matter; and please don't argue further about it with me. I know you mean well, but still, it will lead to nothing. What was done, is done."

Even in the dimming light, Braska was sure he saw a glint of genuine hurt at being shut down flash through Auron's eyes before the warrior managed to hide it behind a passive expression again. He suppressed a sigh at it.

No matter what he did, he always seemed to disappoint one, or both, of his friends.

Managing a – hopefully – reassuring smile, Braska rose and stepped up to Auron, patting the other's shoulder. "Well, there is nothing we can do right now. Let us go, see if we can find something to eat before we turn in for the night."

With some imagination, the way Auron's head tipped forward could have been taken as a nod. Then, just as Braska made to turn around and let actions follow his words, the younger man spoke up so quietly it could have been missed "Lord Braska?"

"Yes, Auron?"

"What if-… I mean to say. How long are we going to wait?"

Braska shut his eyes momentarily, fighting to not hear the hollow despair he himself felt reflected in the question. How he managed to keep his voice steady when answering, he couldn't have said.

"Whatever happens until then; we will leave tomorrow by midday."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FFX ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Where Jecht's disappearance had been loud and explosive, his return the next morning was disturbingly quiet.

When Braska had imagined their friend coming back – those few times, before he had told himself to stop hoping – he had imagined it to be loud, and brash. Intense, much like the man himself. So convinced had he been of it, that he actually dropped the box of potions he had meant to stow away in his pack once he turned and suddenly found himself face to face with Jecht, standing in the middle of their room. There hadn't even been a slamming door, by the fayths. Nobody could blame him for his startled exclamation. "Jecht!"

It was a small comfort to see that Auron was just as surprised as he was. The warrior only looked up from sharpening his katana when he heard his lord's exclamation, tensing in preparation for something – and then jumping to his feet, weapon forgotten, as he saw what was going on. "What have you been doing?!"

The gesture that followed clearly meant to encompass the entire state of their friend. And what a state it was; it looked like someone had thrown Jecht around like a ragdoll and slammed him against any surface available, repeatedly. There was a myriad of still bleeding cuts and freshly blooming bruises all over his body, bursts of colors marring the tanned skin everywhere.

Jecht himself only scoffed at Auron's outburst – then clearly immediately regret it, for it pulled at his split bottom lip, sending a new rivulet of blood dripping down his chin. "Shit. Don't make me do that."

"You – what is the meaning of this?! Did you fight fiends with your bare hands?!" Auron was at Jecht's side in a flash, hand momentarily hovering in search of a spot which wasn't bloody or bruised, before finally settling on one shoulder, trying and failing to steer him towards one of the beds. "Sit down, you utter fool, let us look-…"

"It's fine, I'm fine. Just needed to let off steam. Should see the other guys." Jecht's voice was little more than a grumble, the hand shoving at his friend not as forceful as it could have been. "Ger' off me, Auron, gimme some space."

It was clear that Auron meant to argue, perhaps bodily make the other sit still to get his wounds looked at. But the moment his hand slipped due to Jecht's pushing, the man immediately hissed in a pained breath, and Auron recoiled, eyes worried and hands raised clear away from Jecht's skin so as not to hurt him again.

The pained noise finally startled Braska into movement. He rushed forward the few steps to his friend's side, Cure's power already gathering around him, ready to be cast. "Here, let me…"

"No."

The single word was harsh and biting, akin to the slash of a whip. It quite effectively made Braska freeze in his steps.

Although not as wild and angry as last time they had seen each other, Jecht's gaze was still burning and almost too bright as it meet Braska's. How he managed to look so imposing while this battered up, the summoner could not even begin to fathom. "Before I let you do that, I'll need some answers, Braska."

"Jecht…" Auron began, somewhere between chiding and pleading, but he fell silent again when the other threw a single, hard glance his way.

A moment passed in which Braska contemplated simply going ahead and healing his friend, anyway, if only to not see him suffer longer than he really had to. But then, ignoring Jecht's wishes would only serve to make him even angrier, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Surrendering with a heavy heart, Braska let the magic dissipate and took a few steps backward until he could lower himself to sit on the opposite bed, hands knotting together tightly to stop them from shaking. "Very well," he acquiesced, throat tight. "I will answer any question you have. As I should have from the start."

If Jecht was able to hear the underlying apology, he did not acknowledge it. He stared the other down silently for a beat, two, before shaking his head, crossing his arms in that Don't mess with me way of his. "Great. Then, I want to hear your reason."

Whatever Braska had prepared himself for, it was not this. Stymied, he blinked a few times as he let the meaning sink in, before "Excuse me?"

"Your reason, Braska. For doing this. For… you know for what!" And then, Jecht was moving again, despite the fact that every step must have caused him further pain. He stomped across the room, hand cutting through the air as he went on words rapid and sharp, "I didn't take you for a suicidal idiot and I still don't. So there's gotta be a reason. You don' just get up one morning and decide to throw away your life."

"I already told you, if it means peace-…"

With a derisive sound and a gesture of his hand as if to cut that sentence down, Jecht whirled around, pointing at Braska decisively. "No, not that! Don't give me that bullshit about the whole saving the world shtick again, ya hear me? Might've been able to convince everyone else with it, but not us. You're not a braindead fanatic, and nobody is that selfless, either."

Braska's mouth snapped shut with an audible Click, words stolen away from him in a mixture of surprise and shock. Nobody – nobody had ever questioned his motives for this pilgrimage; it had just been the expected thing for a dedicated summoner like him; it was the right thing to do, and that was that. Everybody had accepted that.

But now here was Jecht, who knew so little of their world and what was accepted and expected, and he simply went and turned everything upside down with a single question.

And he was not even done. Jecht went on, accusations and swears bursting forth as if he had simply been saving them up ever since vanishing – maybe he had – and every single word cut deeper than the one before. A steady drop wearing away at every careful defense Braska had ever built. "Playing hero is a whole other thing than being a sacrificial lamb. You wouldn't chose to do that for a bunch of strangers, not even for all of Spira. Not with your lil' girl back home! Dammit, Braska! You love her!"

The last statement was flung like an attack, and Braska felt it hit its mark, even before Jecht finished, voice nearing a shout, "You wouldn't give her up for the world, I know you wouldn't! So, tell me this one thing – why are you doing this?!"

The room went silent save for Jecht's heavy breathing, everything stopping for a single moment, before-

"For Yuna."

Braska felt the words leave a hollowness in his chest, deep down where he had kept them locked up all this time. Distantly, he was aware of Auron snapping around to stare at him; he did not turn to look back, couldn't stand to see the expression on his face. It was likely that Auron, deep down, had at least guessed at his true driving force behind all his journey, but they had never talked openly about it. This was not the best time for it. There likely would never be a good time for it. But it was very obviously the only chance they would ever get to speak about this, and he did not want to lie anymore, did not want any more regrets before… before.

Fayths have mercy; I am running out of time.

His hands were shaking in his lap; Braska knotted them together tighter until the knuckles turned white as snow to stop them. The pain of it helped him to force the words out, words he had never allowed himself to say aloud and which felt clumsy in his mouth at first. "Spira is a world full of sorrow, and fear. At least, for as long as Sin is in it. I don't wish for Yuna to grow up in such a place. She deserves peace, and happiness; the real kind, not the façade we all put on. If… If I can give her that, with this; if I can let her live a life without sorrow, if only for a little while; if only while she is growing up into a young woman, until she's old enough to choose her own path, then…

He had to stop then, mouth dry, trying not to think - I won't ever get to see her like that, I will not even, don't think that, don't – until he felt strong enough to finish, "… then it's all worth it."

Another pause, another breath; he felt steadier, at least a little, when he made himself look up at his friend. He was met by red eyes boring into his, and somehow, he managed to speak through his cracking voice, "You're right, Jecht. I wouldn't give up Yuna for the world. But I would give up everything to give her a better world."

Another moment frozen in time. They all seemed to not dare to move, as if the world would crumble around them if they did.

As if it hadn't, already.

"… I think that is the best answer I can give you." Braska tried for a smile, knowing it would seem feeble and weak. Jecht did not react, staring at him silently still, and the smile slipped of his face again. Well, then. A different approach. "Let me heal that for you," Braska gestured towards Jecht, towards – well, everything about him, really. When the other didn't react immediately he added, a little despairing, "Please."

For a moment, he imagined he would go ignored, since Jecht did not move as much as a muscle. Braska was actually a little shocked when, after what felt like an eternity, Jecht let himself all but fall to the floor with an audible, pained exhale. Legs crossed, he gestured impatiently as if to say Well? Get to it, or I might overthink it.

Hurrying over before the invitation could be withdrawn, Braska muttered the spell, putting more strength behind it than was possibly really needed. Careful to only keep his gaze lowered, he directed the magic to settle over Jecht's hands and lower arms first; the places where the most wounds had been gathered.

Auron's observation of a fist fight against fiends did not seem as impossible as it had sounded. Or perhaps, Braska thought with a guilty wince at the memory of fists hitting stone, a one-sided fight against trees.

Jecht uttered no sound of displeasure, but pulled a grimace all the same as the first wisps of light vanished under his skin, clearly feeling a sting when the wounds knitted closed in record time.

"Forgive me," Braska said quietly, and did not mean the stinging at all.

Jecht grunted, a sound which could mean everything or nothing.

Silence fell between them while Braska worked, making sure not to overlook even the tiniest scratch or the palest bruise. He couldn't make them vanish as if they had never been there, but he could certainly try. It was the least he could do.

On Jecht's other side, Auron lowered himself to one knee, potion in one hand, bandages in the other. With meticulous care he set about patching up what magic couldn't eradicate completely.

"… Great," Jecht muttered, still too quiet, too serious, but at least with a hint of his usual humor. "Now you're both makin' me feel coddled."

Before Braska could even think about denying it, Auron answered, low and brusque, "This is not coddling; this is penance."

For once in his life, Jecht seemed at a loss for words. If it hadn't been a terrible occasion, the sight of his mouth opening and closing uselessly would have been a ridiculous one. The way it was, Braska could only manage a small, crooked hint of a smile, before lowering his gaze back to his task.

There was no more talking until they were finished, and even then, a few long, uncomfortable beats passed in silence. It was, not very surprisingly, Jecht who broke it.

How he did it, however, was another small shock in itself.

"You know I'm bringing you up that mountain if you still want me to, Braska." Gruff and court, Jecht didn't meet either of their gazes as he said it, instead choosing to eye his fresh bandages as if checking how well they would hold up. "Told you I would."

A curious mixture of relief and dread surged up in his chest once Braska was able to make sense of the words. He fought to breath around it, to speak. "Jecht."

"Never gone back on my word before, ain't gonna start now!" Jecht spoke a little too loudly while he rose. And with that seemed to deem that line of conversation as finished now, since he turned his back to them both, making a point of stretching and testing his range of movement.

Braska tried, and failed, not to stare. Nothing about this entire situation – this scenario he had so desperately wanted to avoid – had gone the way he had expected it to. He should have been relieved that the worst had not come to pass, and that Jecht was still with them. And a part of him was.

The other part, the small one he tried to ignore, felt only a sense of loss at the finality of it all.

"Excuse me." Auron rose abruptly; abrupt enough that it seemed a little too close to an escape when he continued, "I… will go and see if I can purchase more supplies."

Braska wished he could have said something, anything, to comfort the other as he watched him pick up his katana and purse in a hurry. He would have been blind not to see how Auron had paled while Jecht had spoken; when he had, after a moment of relief, remembered what continuing their journey would mean.

But there was nothing to say, or at least he could not think of anything. So he stayed quiet, only nodded with a weak smile when the younger man bowed his head before him in passing.

Auron stopped once more when he reached Jecht's side, looking oddly uncomfortable and determined both. "Jecht."

"Yeah?"

"I knew you would come back." For a moment, Auron stood tall, holding Jecht's surprised gaze, before he cleared his throat rather awkwardly and seemed to drop a little, words turning fast and quiet with embarrassment, "I… I thought you should know that."

Braska only barely managed to keep his smile in check long enough for Auron to mutter another goodbye and leave in a hurry. How far his friends had come on this journey, growing and learning, warmed his heart at the same time that it broke over it.

There is hope; hope that they will be alright when this is over.

"Huh," Jecht rubbed a hand over his mouth; possibly to cover up his perplexed yet pleased little smile. "The guy keeps surprising me."

"He holds you in high esteem, Jecht," Braska reminded him patiently. "You should have noticed that."

"Eh. I still get on his last nerve, ain't no way of denying it!"

They shared a grin at that, knowing it to be true. For a beat, everything seemed just like the way it had been before the outburst, teasing mixed with fondness coming easily to them.

Then reality settled back in, and Jecht's face darkened, turned serious in a way not often seen from him. Braksa's heart sank.

"Hey, Braska…"

"Yes?"

"You still got that sphere I gave you?"

"The… oh, yes, of course!" It took a moment for Braska to remember, caught wrong-footed by the sudden change of topic. Feeling a little sheepish about it, he unearthed the sphere from his robes and offered it out. "I'm afraid we did not get that group picture you wanted. You might want to delete…"

"It's fine," Jecht interrupted with a wave, voice gruff but not unkind. "Will check if there's still enough space on it and… yeah. It's fine."

"Alright."

Another uncomfortable silence settled, and Braska hated it with a passion. He wished it was still easy between; wished he could have asked what Jecht was going to record next, without feeling like it would be a dangerous question to the precarious peace between them.

"Say," Jecht was fiddling with the sphere; not turning it on, but using it as a welcome excuse not to look up. "That Zanarkand on the mountain. You don't think that's my Zanarkand, right?"

One more blindsiding question. Jecht seemed full of them today. Lying was tempting, would probably be kinder in the moment, but…

"I… I cannot really imagine it." It felt wrong to even think it, much less say it, and Braska felt the sudden urge to reach out and take the words back. Instead he added softly, "I'm sorry, Jecht."

"Tche." A glint of Jecht's old humor flashed in red eyes when he looked up, voice half-laughing, half-chiding. "Ain't your fault, yea? Stop apologizing. You guys have been telling me from the start, that it's unlikely."

"I wished it to be true." And he meant it. The longer he had known the man, the dearer a friend he had become, the more fervently had Braska willed it to be true. At least let them find their happy ending. The world could not be so cruel as to disappoint all three of them… right?

"Hey. Get outta your head, Braska, I'm talkin'."

Braska blinked, finding he had drifted off in his thoughts again. Jecht was waiting him out, arms crossed and head cocked to the side. "Ah. My apologies. You were saying?"

"Gonna go see if I can fill the recording space on this," a thumb jabbed over one shoulder towards the door, the sphere raised in the other hand for emphasis. "Might go out for a bit."

"Oh. Yes, of course. We will finish preparations in the meantime."

"Yeah, yeah. Just… wait for me. I won't take long; know that we are in a hurry and all."

Somehow, it was the last bit which nearly broke Braska then and there. In a hurry. They were, weren't they? Running out of time. If even Jecht said so now…

"Please," he hard himself say from far, far away. "Do take your time."

Jecht nodded courtly, turned to leave – and paused, glancing back once more. For a second, it looked like he was going to say something, causing Braska to hold his breath and pray he wouldn't-…

Then Jecht shook his head and lifted his hand in a stilted, half-hearted greeting while walking away.

Braska, left alone, waited until the door had clicked shut once more before sinking down to sit on the bed, letting his face fall into his palm.

Never had he more acutely felt that his days were numbered, and there was no turning back.