Chapter 11: A Fleeting Euphoria
Weston awoke, growling as he rubbed at his eyes. He swung his legs onto the wooden floor of his house, hunching over as he fumbled for his boots.
He was clad in only a white tank top and his fatigues, which had been cleaned of the previous day's action. Only a tear where the bullet had grazed his shin was new, the gauze that covered the wound showing through the lacerated cloth.
With a groan, and the popping of multiple bones, Weston stood, his heavy boots clunking against the wooden floor. Moving was a bit tough, mainly because his body was so stiff from the workout it had received in battle. Clumsily, he opened the door and stepped out into the bright sun, scratching at his sides as he yawned. His eyes squinted to adjust to the sun as he began looking around, noticing quite a bit of hustle and bustle about the center of Besaid village. He even saw some Crusaders milling about, some of the more seriously wounded ones bandaged, probably because the potions took longer on more serious injuries. The center of the village, right in front of the temple steps, was littered with people; Yuna, Wakka, and Lulu were on the makeshift altar, apparently rehearsing for the last time.
Weston laughed to himself, forgetting through the chaos in Kilika that Wakka and Lulu were to be married today. He smirked at his own forgetfulness and walked forward, receiving a few waves and smiles from fellow soldiers. He returned them, his jaded attitude lifted with the night of deathly slumber. As Weston approached the altar, Yuna shot him a smile, and to her surprise, he shot it right back, causing her to blush. Wakka waved, or more precisely, motioned for Weston to come up onto the wooden platform.
Weston nodded and stepped up.
Wakka laughed and patted him on the back. "Hey dere. Like the setup?"
Weston smiled. "Yeah, it's beautiful."
"You betcha, had the best decorators out there," and he waved a hand in Yuna and Lulu's direction. They smiled and, for the first time, Lulu blushed in front of Weston, making her pale cheeks turn a vibrant red. Weston smiled to them and turned his gaze back to Wakka. He noticed that the former blitzer had bags under his eyes and growing stubble. Apparently, Wakka had been worrying over something, be it the war or the wedding or both, Weston didn't know.
Weston smirked. "Nervous?"
"Nah," Wakka said with a laugh. "Lu is though!"
The pale Lulu heard the remark and came over, pushing Weston aside with a strength she didn't seem to have. She mocked a growl and tapped Wakka's nose.
"You're the nervous one. I've been too busy with the decoration to notice the jitters." She smiled sheepishly and wrapped her arms around Wakka's neck, kissing his lips lightly. His large hands came to her relatively small waist and rested there as he returned the kiss. Weston smirked and left the two to their embrace, walking along the altar stage.
The stage had two wide and long tables, both covered in beautiful white and gold tapestry, bowls, utensils, and goblets. It surprised Weston that such a small village could afford such expensive -looking- decorations. He eyed Yuna fluffing out some lace to trill around the corner of the table and made his way over there.
"Busy day, eh?" he said, watching her finish tacking the lace.
She looked up to him with a smile, and nodded. "Yes, quite."
Weston noticed something in her eyes, something that he didn't particularly like. It seemed to be a sadness that didn't quite advertise "stability." His eyes locked to her own and he knew that something was amiss.
She could tell what he was thinking, just by looking into his eyes. A person's eyes could show the true emotions, even when the face, and body, didn't.
Weston coughed and looked away, turning and leaning against the edge of the long table. He looked to the sky and squinted, not wanting to ask her what's wrong. She dropped her head and walked off the stage, heading down a path towards the beach. Weston cocked his head, watching her as she left. After a moment, he decided to follow.
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He found her on the beach, knees up to her chin, eyes locked to the ocean. He could tell she had been crying, for her knees were glistening with what Weston knew wasn't the ocean.
Weston padded over and sat down. Yuna didn't seem to notice, her gaze locked to the waves. He crossed his legs and sighed, putting his gaze to what she was looking at.
He whispered softly, "Beautiful waves..."
"Yeah..." she said in a shaky voice.
The two sat in silence, just watching the horizon and the waves. Weston admired the scenery. Never in his life had he truly experienced an untouched beach, without the crowds of people and horrible smell of seaweed rotting on the shore. And Besaid beach was a beach that had untouched by Weston's American expansion, nor was it ever going to. Be America the past or the future or a whole other world, Weston didn't really know. It wasn't like he could do anything about it.
Her timid, shaky voice broke his introspection. "What's it like, Weston?"
"Hmm?" he asked, not wanting to really open his mouth just yet.
"What is it like, to be in combat?"
"Don't you have a little experience?"
"I don't call fighting fiends and supernatural beings 'combat', or at least the combat of war..."
"So you mean 'what is it like to take another human's life while trying to protect your own?' right?"
She nodded.
He sighed and shrugged. "It's not really something you think about in battle. In battle, you're main objectives are to kill the enemy and make it out alive. If you think about anything else, you're as good as dead. But as far as what it's like...it's taxing. Mentally and physically. You're either running for your life, running for the enemy's life, or hiding. You're so busy, you forget your taking people's lives."
She hmmed, "I can't imagine what's that like."
Weston smiled. "It's a good thing, trust me. Be glad you won't have to experience it."
She half-smiled, nodding. The somber look on her face didn't leave, though, even through the smile. Weston sighed and kept his gaze on the ocean. A few moments later, he said out of the side of his mouth, "You miss him, don't you? You've probably buried him, mentally, but your heart just screams for his return."
She sighed and buried her face into her knees, muffling her sobbing "Yes"
He nodded and hunched a bit, face drooping as he leaned forward. "I know the feeling. Everyday I look back and remember that fateful afternoon when my life changed. I was only nine when my parents were killed, but I've never forgotten them, or what they meant to me. Every waking moment I'm fighting back thoughts of them. Sure, I have the mental block, but I'll be damned if my heart doesn't make me remember them in some form or another. My dad taking me to baseball games, my mother's cooking and obsessive house cleaning...I can no longer picture these visions, but I can damn well feel them. And feeling something is ten times as worse as -seeing- them."
Weston sighed, blinking away the thoughts. He could feel her gaze on him, but he didn't want to meet it, in fear of what he'd do, feeling so vulnerable at the moment. He groaned and stood, not bothering to look at her.
"I'm sorry you had to lose your parents...but I'm curious, how did you know about...-him-?"
Weston smirked. "Wakka's a great source of information."
She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm so happy for him."
"Yeah. It's great to have someone to spend the rest of your life with, I'm sure."
This comment seemed to get to her and he regretted saying it. A silence once again fell, making Weston extremely nervous. He'd take combat over an awkward silence any day.
Finally, she spoke up. "What about you? Do you have anyone?"
Weston laughed, sounding sarcastic but not meaning to. "Unless you count the Army, I've never been married or involved with anyone."
"I imagine the life of a soldier is a lonely one."
"Lonely? No. Deprived of deep, meaningful emotion shared between two people? Yes. There -is- a difference. As a soldier, you're never lonely. You are, however, surrounded by a wall that just screams death, destruction, and mayhem. It's a stigma that doesn't really fit us, but people are afraid to get involved with a soldier outside of the army, mainly because they know they're safe. But me? I never know when my time will come. I don't have life security. The friends I make either choose me, or are made on the battlefield."
"No one, even when you weren't a soldier?"
"Let's just say that I wasn't particularly liked as a kid. I got into trouble, jumped from school to school and home to home. I didn't have time for friends, let alone an emotional attachment."
She nodded, making him appreciate her not pressing further. He had buried these thoughts long ago, and he dreaded bringing them back up.
Another silence fell, but since Weston thought he was the one who brought it on, he didn't really mind it.
He stood, motionless, letting the breeze from the ocean pelt his statuesque form. He closed his eyes and breathed in the salty air, enjoying the feeling. If he were just another guy, this would be heaven. But he knew that, soon enough, this little haven would be disrupted once again.
He laughed, thinking to himself that Nyka had been considerate enough not to do anything on this ceremonious day, even though the day was still relatively young.
Soon, Weston had had enough of the silence and said softly, "You'll find him, Yuna. Somewhere, somehow. He's out there, and I know you believe that with every bit of your soul."
She sighed softly and nodded, looking up to him. His eyes me with hers and by the state of her gaze, he could see she believed it. He smiled and started heading back to the village.
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Fagan sighed and opened his eyes. His chest was covered with a thin arm and he looked to his left, smiling warmly as the vision of his wife's face met his eyes. Her visage was one of contentment as she snuggled into his shoulder, mmming softly to herself. He ran a hand through her hair and slowly got up, pulling a robe around his naked form. With a sigh, he walked to the nearest window and pulled the drape's corner to the side. His eyes scanned the horizon, the newly risen sun nearly blinding him. Through his squinted eyes, he then turned his gaze to the city below. The city of Bevelle itself was very expansive, but no matter where you were in the city, you could see the temple at its center.
With a sigh, Fagan turned the drape's corner back and headed into a small alcove that resembled a cooking area. He kneeled down, placed a few wooden timbers into the bottom of a stove-like iron appliance and grabbed a primitive match, which was more or less gun-power on a stick, and struck against the side of the stove. He tossed the now lit match into the bottom and headed towards a collection of shelves. From the shelf, he pulled a bag of green leaves and a small circular pot. He pumped water from a large barrel into the pot and added the leaves. Just as he was placing the pot on top of the stove, his wife, Elaine shuffled behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He grinned and turned his head, kissing the tip of her nose. "Morning."
She smiled and scrunched up her nose a bit, returning the kiss to his cheek. "Morning."
"Tea?"
"Of course." And with that she slowly slid from the embrace and grabbed two metal cups from the shelf, placing them on a small round table in the center of the offshoot. She sat and motioned for him to do the same. He nodded and sat, smiling at her from across the table. Her warm smile seemed to have a tinge of worry, and his brow rose after a moment.
"Something wrong?"
Elaine sighed, her smile fading. "You spoke again, Fagan. In your sleep."
He hmmed. "What did I say?"
"Something about murdering the innocent..."
Fagan sighed, shaking his head as his neck failed to hold the weight of his cranium up. "It's nothing, love."
She sighed, leaning forward. "It -is- something. Something's got you worried and I hate being in the dark about it...Ever since Lord Nyka started his crusade...you've seemed distant..."
Fagan sighed once more, tossing his long sandy locks from his face. "Elaine...I wish I could tell you..."
"Is it about what happened in Kilika?"
"How do you know about that?" Fagan asked, more shock than anger in his voice.
"Word gets around, especially when one is a councilman's wife..."
Fagan sighed, nodding. "Elaine...It..."
I know Fagan, having our Army defeated in battle is hard to accept...but it's going to happen. Yuna's army won't be able to win every time, ya know."
Fagan hung his head even lower, hating the fact that his wife was just as clueless as any other misled citizen.
His gaze returned to hers, his look serious, truthful. "Elaine. It wasn't an ambush. Our troops killed innocent people to lure the Crusader's out and then paid the ultimate price for it. Nyka's only fueling the patriotic fire."
For a moment, and only a moment, he thought he touched her, but then she laughed. "Surely you jest, dear. Nyka would never lie, even in the common good of the people. You should be ashamed of yourself, joking like that."
She smiled at him with a wink, but his countenance remained firm, making her smile fade fast. "You're...serious, aren't you?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She raised a brow and drew back in her chair, watching him. "Surely, you're only..."
"I'm not joking."
"...Fagan! I'm disappointed in you. What, are you going to spread rumors now? Get some public distrust for Nyka, and then, while our great leader is betrayed, take his power from him?"
"No..I"
"Fagan. This is preposterous. Are you feeling well? Maybe you should lie down? Here," and she made her way to the boiling tea, pouring a bit into one of the cups, "have some tea. It might make this...mind cloud of yours dissipate."
He waved a hand, shaking his head. "I'm of perfect sound mind. I need no tea to tell the truth."
She placed the cup down heavily on the table, causing a bit of the steaming tea to land on the wood. His eyes turned to the steaming puddle in front of him, and he didn't notice her storming off to the bedroom.
When she emerged fully clothed, shopping satchel firmly attached to her side was the moment Fagan realized that the most important thing to him was walking out onto the street without even a goodbye.
He sighed and went into the bedroom, slipping off his morning robe and slipping on a silky shirt and trousers. Silk was one of the many benefits a councilman got to experience. After this, he threw his white robe over his clothing and grabbed his staff. He turned curtly, making his robe sway to and fro and made his way out of the door, locking it behind him. He turned and looked out onto the busy street, sighing heavily as he began the trudge to the temple.
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Weston hmmed, watching as the seats filled with villagers. He was standing outside of the general area, so what was said at the altar, he couldn't hear. All he knew was that Wakka was nervous as hell, and Lulu was trying to preoccupy herself, even at the last moment. As far as he could tell, it wasn't going to be a ceremony he was used to seeing. Without a god to speak of, or any true semblance of law, this wedding was going to be as bare bones as possible. The only thing that could be truly established was the bond of love.
He didn't stand very close for one main reason: he didn't feel like he should be involved. Despite the others protesting, telling him he had as much a right as any to attend the ceremony, he refused. This was something that had brewed long before he had arrived, and he didn't want to intercede. Besides, something about a wedding during a war made Weston feel odd, even if he couldn't really explain why.
As a soldier, he knew of several fellow men that served, and died, with him, that had families they widowed. Most of the men he served with were either single or just married, and he knew, himself, that being married and being a soldier made you a marked man. You couldn't let yourself die, because you were in a love bond with someone. But, the enemy seemed to know just who to kill, and every funeral Weston had helped martial, was one with crying wives, even children sometimes. Of course, he felt guilty. How could he not? Here he was, an orphan, single, and a man without a past or, truthfully, a reason to go on living, and he wasn't dead. But Private Bateman or Private Willis, whichever John Doe on the Army's roster lay in this coffin at this particular moment, was gone, leaving a widow and/or children behind to grieve the loss of a spouse and parent.
But, Weston said to himself in his thoughts, better one parent than both...
His thoughts were interrupted by Gatta's nudging elbow.
"You just going to watch from here?"
"Yeah."
"I'll keep ya company. Not much of one for weddings myself."
Weston smirked. "Someone a bit bitter?"
Gatta shrugged. "Not really, but it makes ya feel guilty. Here we are, two men who've already killed so many...Tainted men, ya know? And there's Wakka, who is called 'one of the saviors of Spira', marrying another savior. They kill a spiritual being, they're legends. You and I, we kill a few regular guys, we're butchers, even in the minds of the people supporting us. That kinda kicks ya out of being very...social with the common citizens."
Weston nodded with a smile. "Not very fair, eh? We're risking our lives, and they turn their noses like we're rotted meat."
"Yeah, but that's the life of a soldier."
"I know. Wish I'd've set up shop as a carpenter. Wouldn't be here now."
Gatta laughed. "Yeah, you'd be in your own world, building houses for people and probably have a family."
Weston nodded, his disposition turning a bit sour. "Family history isn't one of my strong suits."
"That makes you the perfect soldier."
Weston cocked a brow.
Gatta smiled, not turning his gaze from the final preparations being made at the altar. "You've got no family ties. You're not married, you don't have kids. You're a man without a past or future. So, you're the perfect infantryman. Problem is, it's never guys like you and me who get killed. It's always the guy with the wife and two kids. A shame, really."
"Very much so."
And at that, the two stood in silence, watching the time tick by, approaching the beginning of the ceremony. Gatta's arms were crossed, as if he were waiting on something. Weston just stood there, arms at his side, legs spread a little.
After a little while, Weston noticed a hush go over the crowd in the seats. A man in ceremonial garb stood from a seat at the altar, and motioned for Wakka, who was now dressed in a long yellow robe, with sash, to approach him. Wakka did so and bowed. Next, the man motioned to the end of the aisle, which led straight into Wakka and Lulu's shared hut.
Lulu emerged from the ceremonial tent at the end of the ailse in a long back dress that cut off at mid-bosom, not leaving much to the imagination. Weston and Gatta's eyes followed her to the altar, where she stepped up, arms staying at her sides. The priest spoke to each of them individually, and then turned to the center, motioning for them to face one another. Wakka took Lulu's hands in his own and their eyes locked.
Weston wondered what it was like to love someone enough to pledge loyalty for the rest of your life. The concept had never seemed to be graspable to him, but he knew that love was powerful, for he'd seen men die, crying out their mother's, wife's or children's names as they blinked out of existence.
He watched as the priest said some lengthy passage, probably something along the lines of "love and support her/him" etc. After what seemed like ages, Wakka and Lulu kissed passionately, causing the seated villagers to jump to their feet cheering. Weston saw Yuna wiping a few tears as she stood and walked from her seat. She stopped a few feet near the aisle and watched, clapping all the while, as the two walked down the aisle leading to the reception tent. At the tent, Wakka pulled Lulu off her feet and nodded to the crowd, slinking into the tent afterwards.
Gatta gave Weston a knowing wink and started walking towards the tent.
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"I want Luca."
Cleagan sighed, not knowing what to say to his boss.
"I want Luca, and I want it now. If we can get Luca, we can get even more support, even if we have to force them at gunpoint! We're not going to have another Kilika. Their troops have not moved an inch and this day is our opportunity."
Cleagan cleared his throat. "But sir..."
"No buts. You men get on it. Issue the order. Take Luca at all costs."
The councilmen nodded and started leaving. Nyka cleared his throat and winced as the sun hit his eyes, his gaze weakened even more so as he looked across the horizon.
"Fagan," he called in a gruff voice.
Fagan sighed as he turned from the door, wondering why he was always the one to be picked upon by the old man.
"Yes, Lord?"
"You studied the Al-Bhed culture and language, did you not?"
"Received high marks, sir."
"Then you can help me."
"Yes?"
"I want to know everything you do about the Al-Bhed. How they think, what they like to do for fun, how they know so much about machina..."
"Well, sir, it'd take quite a long-"
"We've got plenty of -time-, Fagan. It's patience that I'm short on. I want to know everything. I know you may be asking yourself as to why, so I'll fill you in, my dear boy. Their "Home" is being rebuilt. Personally, I hate to say this, but spiritually, it is Yevon's will. We are to use their advanced machina to win this war. Without it, we are at loss. Remember, that had it not been for the Crusaders using that ship against our men, we wouldn't be in this situation. Now tell me all that you know, young boy, so that I may better understand the Al-Bhed, and how we can obtain some of their...machina."
Fagan swallowed hard, and regretfully started Nyka's lesson with the Al-Bhed's language.
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Gatta and Weston sat at the end of the long table, the couple all the way across from them on the other end. Toasts were being given, and people were being thanked, but not a word was said about the 'victory' in Kilika or were any soldiers thanked. As a matter of fact, Weston could see that the only Crusader present was Gatta. He leaned over and whispered into Gatta's ear.
"Where are your men? Thought they would've at least provided protection."
"They don't feel welcomed."
Weston nodded and leaned back, only to see a few dozen pairs of eyes staring at him. And, in a way, this made him feel more nervous than a few gun barrels in the face would have.
"Sorry," he said softly and the toasts continued.
Gatta nudged Weston and the two men left the tent, walking out into the afternoon sun. Gatta leaned against a nearby tree and Weston stuffed his hands into his hip pockets, feeling very unwelcome at the moment.
Gatta laughed. "Guess that was obvious enough."
"Yeah."
"Well, it's all for the better. Soldiers are tainted, like I said. We no more belonged in there than Ughol belongs on a Chocobo.
Weston cocked an eyebrow, causing Gatta to laugh.
"Chocobo. Large bird that can't fly. We used them for transportation. But, Ughol's too heavy for them."
Weston laughed, even though he still didn't quite get it.
Gatta seemed to notice the gesture and punched Weston's upper arm. "Don't bother humoring me, Weston. I knew that joke was lost on you."
Weston smirked and turned to see Yuna heading their way. Weston crossed his arms and stood, watching her as she walked over.
She bowed and muttered a few apologies before saying, "We didn't mean to push you out of the ceremony."
Weston laughed. "Don't worry about it. We knew we weren't welcome. Soldiers fresh from battle don't belong at a wedding and you know it."
Gatta chimed in, "The same thing happened years ago, when Sin attacked this village. Fresh from battle, my father tried to attend a wedding. He was pushed out by queer and angry stares."
Weston nodded and turned his attention back to Yuna. "Don't feel sorry, Yuna. It's just the way it works. We're not disappointed about it. Lord knows, some happiness needs to come to these people. It's not going to be easy, ya know, fighting this war."
She nodded, and sighed. "We thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for protecting Kilika. It was brave."
Gatta shook his head. "It wasn't bravery that saved Kilika, but duty. Bravery has nothing to do with being a soldier. It's our job to put our life on the line for whatever cause we're ordered to fight for. I just wish it hadn't been so one sided."
She sighed, shaking her head. "Gatta, I realize that it didn't seem fair, but the missiles from the airship were what saved both you and your men's lives. What had happened if all of Nyka's force had hit your men?"
He replied through gritted teeth, "More than likely we'd be dead and Kilika would be Nyka's."
She nodded. "Then look at it that way. A victory is a victory."
Weston laughed. "Sometimes, it's not that simple. There are no "winners" in war, Yuna. Just a guy who comes out of it with the most land or surviving troops. But everyone loses, on both sides. Lives are lost. What more can one give besides your soul?"
Her head dropped a bit, and nodded a bit.
Gatta spoke up. "A life is something precious. Taking it from someone is the worst feeling in the world. The guilt it causes is insurmountable."
Weston nodded in agreement, but then added, "After awhile, it gets easy. But the mental blocks you put up will stay there for the rest of your life. God help you if you let those walls down. I've seen men in nuthouses that were good soldiers, but, they're just empty shells now."
Yuna wondered about the "God" comment, seeing as Weston didn't specifically say the name of the deity he was referring to. After a moment, she nodded and whispered, "Peace be with you, sirs," and left for the tent.
Gatta smirked at Weston and he returned it.
"Funny how she'll never understand, isn't it, Weston?"
"Extremely."
"Let's make sure she'll never have to understand. 'God help' her if she does one day."
Weston noticed the use of his phrase and turned. "A believer, are we?"
"Of what?"
"-In- God."
"You sound like you're using "god" as a name, not a simple word."
"My god doesn't have a name. He simply -is-"
"Right."
Weston shrugged, not wishing to go into his beliefs with Gatta, for he knew that it was a lost cause. He simply sat down on the dirt path and waited, with Gatta at his side, for the ceremony to end.
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When Fagan arrived at his home, Elaine was still not back. It really worried him, since it was approaching nightfall fast, and Bevelle had its share of shady characters at night. Mostly vagabonds and heathens. But, even Fagan had to admit, his faith in Nyka, and New Yevon was wavering. He couldn't remember, after studying Yevon's teachings for so long, where Yevon had condoned the murder of innocent life to spread the word. And never had Yevon said a council, or singular leader should take it upon himself to destroy the heathens.
He sighed and disrobed, unbuttoning the silk shirt and letting mild air hit his pale, bird-like chest. With the flick of his ankles, he sent his sandals flying across the bed and into the wall. What Fagan lacked in upper body strength, he made up in leg power.
Fagan's back sunk into the comfortable chair and his staff dropped off to the side. His eyes slowly closed and he couldn't seem to burn the image of Nyka, sitting there, nodding intently as Fagan sold away the secrets of the Al-Bhed. It sickened him to no end. He knew he was just damning the culture he studied for years, a culture he had actually grown to appreciate.
But, he know, Nyka was now planning to take, or raid, Home for technology to combat the Crusaders. What he knew that Nyka didn't was that the Crusaders didn't have any advanced machina besides the airship, and that the Crusaders had probably used up the missiles in the Kilika battle.
Slowly the thoughts in his head faded, and he fell into a light sleep, dreaming, among all things, that his Elaine would return to him.
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"Lord."
"Yes?"
"The troops are an hour away from Luca. They should be there by nightfall." "Good."
"And what are there orders upon arrival?"
"Attack, full on. All five thousand troops. Take the town, every single building. Kill all who oppose. Put heathens in their place. Let them beg on the street while our soldiers seek refuge in their homes. That should teach them"
"Yes, sir."
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Fagan's eyes shot open as the door closed. He sprang to his feet, ready to run if need be. But, he saw a sullen face meet his own.
Elaine slowly trudged in, setting her satchel on the bed.
He whispered, "Where have you been?"
She replied in a terse tone, "In Merchant's Square. And then I found my way to the temple. I spoke to Nyka while the council was out to lunch."
"What did you speak to him about?" he managed, trying not to sound shocked or angry.
"You and how I can help you curb these thoughts..."
"Elaine I..."
"Don't bother with it. He didn't tell me anything but 'Do not worry, I will talk to him.' Did he?"
Fagan thought of all the possible answers, but chose the least harming one. "Yes, we actually talked for some time." He tried to hold in a laugh at this, even though he knew that this certainly wasn't the time for a joke.
She nodded and went to her chest, changing into her bedclothes, a thin silk pajama top and thick wool bottoms. He only stood there, not quite sure of what to say.
Finally, she turned. "I pray he talked some sense into you. But, he was certainly interested in what you had said. He seemed shocked. Almost more shocked than I was."
Fagan swallowed and closed his eyes, wishing this whole situation would just disappear, but something within him told him to forge on as he saw fit, for that was the true way of living. After a moment, she hmmed and shook her head. "I doubt it did. You're very stubborn...especially lately."
He started to say something, but decided not to, and went into the kitchen alcove. He made a pot of tea and sat, sipping quietly as his wife lay in bed. Time had seemed to speed by him as he napped, and he could see that the night had grown old. The moon was high in the sky, and he knew it was near midnight. What took his wife so long, he couldn't guess, but it had him worried.
He failed to notice his trembling hands as he looked to the jitter tea in his cup. With a heavy sigh, he drank the rest in one gulp, got changed, and slipped into bed. Tomorrow was not going to be a fun day for Councilman Fagan.
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A/N: Whew, a boring chapter indeed. No violence, no guns going boom, no nothing :P I was going to include a very long section all about the wedding, but, sadly, after fifteen rewrites (That's what took this chapter so dang long) I decided to just put it from Weston's point of view and skip the lovey dovey stuff for now. Who knows, I might actually do a mini-fic on just the romance between Lulu and Wakka that's briefly touched on throughout this fic so far.
Another thing about this chapter: We see even more depth added to Fagan. Why? Well, in some stories, major characters aren't even introduced until halfway through. And it just so happened that Fagan wasn't all that important to me in the beginning. He was originally just going to make a one-shot appearance in Part One (Chapters 1-9) but then he came back up in later chapters, and well, my outline needed fleshing out. So, Fagan grows into a major character in this chapter and will continue to be one throughout the remaining chapters.
Speaking on more important characters...Rikku will return in a big way soon, so look out for that. Tidus is still on his way, but it's coming slow, I know. Also, Chapter 12 introduces a whole new character, one of my own device. But that's all I'll say about that.
And, I'd like to start thanking people at the end of chapters, so here goes: I'd like to thank, first of all, the readers of Akin to Sin. Without you, there wouldn't be a fic...well, there would, it'd just be really boring. Thanks to you guys, I've added and changed many things that make this, in my opinion, much better than it would've been. I'd also like to thank my friends and fellow writers Brandon and Lauren (THE LOTR and Potter fan ^^, ff.net id number 202691) for helping me flesh out some details I just couldn't get down quite right. Thanks also to Coca~Cola company for making an addictive substance known only as "Vanilla Coke" and Kellogg's for all the Nutra-Grain goodies I've wolfed down writing this fic. Thanks goes to the following bands for making the writing experience seem a bit easier: System of a Down, Cradle of Filth, Opeth, Linger, Slayer, Spil, Eyebolt, Obliveon, Idea Killer, Meshugga, and many more I've switched on and off of my winamp playlist these past few months. Thanks also to my teachers, who think I take tons of notes, even though it's really this ficcy... ^^;;;
See ya next chapter. ~No One
Weston awoke, growling as he rubbed at his eyes. He swung his legs onto the wooden floor of his house, hunching over as he fumbled for his boots.
He was clad in only a white tank top and his fatigues, which had been cleaned of the previous day's action. Only a tear where the bullet had grazed his shin was new, the gauze that covered the wound showing through the lacerated cloth.
With a groan, and the popping of multiple bones, Weston stood, his heavy boots clunking against the wooden floor. Moving was a bit tough, mainly because his body was so stiff from the workout it had received in battle. Clumsily, he opened the door and stepped out into the bright sun, scratching at his sides as he yawned. His eyes squinted to adjust to the sun as he began looking around, noticing quite a bit of hustle and bustle about the center of Besaid village. He even saw some Crusaders milling about, some of the more seriously wounded ones bandaged, probably because the potions took longer on more serious injuries. The center of the village, right in front of the temple steps, was littered with people; Yuna, Wakka, and Lulu were on the makeshift altar, apparently rehearsing for the last time.
Weston laughed to himself, forgetting through the chaos in Kilika that Wakka and Lulu were to be married today. He smirked at his own forgetfulness and walked forward, receiving a few waves and smiles from fellow soldiers. He returned them, his jaded attitude lifted with the night of deathly slumber. As Weston approached the altar, Yuna shot him a smile, and to her surprise, he shot it right back, causing her to blush. Wakka waved, or more precisely, motioned for Weston to come up onto the wooden platform.
Weston nodded and stepped up.
Wakka laughed and patted him on the back. "Hey dere. Like the setup?"
Weston smiled. "Yeah, it's beautiful."
"You betcha, had the best decorators out there," and he waved a hand in Yuna and Lulu's direction. They smiled and, for the first time, Lulu blushed in front of Weston, making her pale cheeks turn a vibrant red. Weston smiled to them and turned his gaze back to Wakka. He noticed that the former blitzer had bags under his eyes and growing stubble. Apparently, Wakka had been worrying over something, be it the war or the wedding or both, Weston didn't know.
Weston smirked. "Nervous?"
"Nah," Wakka said with a laugh. "Lu is though!"
The pale Lulu heard the remark and came over, pushing Weston aside with a strength she didn't seem to have. She mocked a growl and tapped Wakka's nose.
"You're the nervous one. I've been too busy with the decoration to notice the jitters." She smiled sheepishly and wrapped her arms around Wakka's neck, kissing his lips lightly. His large hands came to her relatively small waist and rested there as he returned the kiss. Weston smirked and left the two to their embrace, walking along the altar stage.
The stage had two wide and long tables, both covered in beautiful white and gold tapestry, bowls, utensils, and goblets. It surprised Weston that such a small village could afford such expensive -looking- decorations. He eyed Yuna fluffing out some lace to trill around the corner of the table and made his way over there.
"Busy day, eh?" he said, watching her finish tacking the lace.
She looked up to him with a smile, and nodded. "Yes, quite."
Weston noticed something in her eyes, something that he didn't particularly like. It seemed to be a sadness that didn't quite advertise "stability." His eyes locked to her own and he knew that something was amiss.
She could tell what he was thinking, just by looking into his eyes. A person's eyes could show the true emotions, even when the face, and body, didn't.
Weston coughed and looked away, turning and leaning against the edge of the long table. He looked to the sky and squinted, not wanting to ask her what's wrong. She dropped her head and walked off the stage, heading down a path towards the beach. Weston cocked his head, watching her as she left. After a moment, he decided to follow.
--------------------
He found her on the beach, knees up to her chin, eyes locked to the ocean. He could tell she had been crying, for her knees were glistening with what Weston knew wasn't the ocean.
Weston padded over and sat down. Yuna didn't seem to notice, her gaze locked to the waves. He crossed his legs and sighed, putting his gaze to what she was looking at.
He whispered softly, "Beautiful waves..."
"Yeah..." she said in a shaky voice.
The two sat in silence, just watching the horizon and the waves. Weston admired the scenery. Never in his life had he truly experienced an untouched beach, without the crowds of people and horrible smell of seaweed rotting on the shore. And Besaid beach was a beach that had untouched by Weston's American expansion, nor was it ever going to. Be America the past or the future or a whole other world, Weston didn't really know. It wasn't like he could do anything about it.
Her timid, shaky voice broke his introspection. "What's it like, Weston?"
"Hmm?" he asked, not wanting to really open his mouth just yet.
"What is it like, to be in combat?"
"Don't you have a little experience?"
"I don't call fighting fiends and supernatural beings 'combat', or at least the combat of war..."
"So you mean 'what is it like to take another human's life while trying to protect your own?' right?"
She nodded.
He sighed and shrugged. "It's not really something you think about in battle. In battle, you're main objectives are to kill the enemy and make it out alive. If you think about anything else, you're as good as dead. But as far as what it's like...it's taxing. Mentally and physically. You're either running for your life, running for the enemy's life, or hiding. You're so busy, you forget your taking people's lives."
She hmmed, "I can't imagine what's that like."
Weston smiled. "It's a good thing, trust me. Be glad you won't have to experience it."
She half-smiled, nodding. The somber look on her face didn't leave, though, even through the smile. Weston sighed and kept his gaze on the ocean. A few moments later, he said out of the side of his mouth, "You miss him, don't you? You've probably buried him, mentally, but your heart just screams for his return."
She sighed and buried her face into her knees, muffling her sobbing "Yes"
He nodded and hunched a bit, face drooping as he leaned forward. "I know the feeling. Everyday I look back and remember that fateful afternoon when my life changed. I was only nine when my parents were killed, but I've never forgotten them, or what they meant to me. Every waking moment I'm fighting back thoughts of them. Sure, I have the mental block, but I'll be damned if my heart doesn't make me remember them in some form or another. My dad taking me to baseball games, my mother's cooking and obsessive house cleaning...I can no longer picture these visions, but I can damn well feel them. And feeling something is ten times as worse as -seeing- them."
Weston sighed, blinking away the thoughts. He could feel her gaze on him, but he didn't want to meet it, in fear of what he'd do, feeling so vulnerable at the moment. He groaned and stood, not bothering to look at her.
"I'm sorry you had to lose your parents...but I'm curious, how did you know about...-him-?"
Weston smirked. "Wakka's a great source of information."
She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm so happy for him."
"Yeah. It's great to have someone to spend the rest of your life with, I'm sure."
This comment seemed to get to her and he regretted saying it. A silence once again fell, making Weston extremely nervous. He'd take combat over an awkward silence any day.
Finally, she spoke up. "What about you? Do you have anyone?"
Weston laughed, sounding sarcastic but not meaning to. "Unless you count the Army, I've never been married or involved with anyone."
"I imagine the life of a soldier is a lonely one."
"Lonely? No. Deprived of deep, meaningful emotion shared between two people? Yes. There -is- a difference. As a soldier, you're never lonely. You are, however, surrounded by a wall that just screams death, destruction, and mayhem. It's a stigma that doesn't really fit us, but people are afraid to get involved with a soldier outside of the army, mainly because they know they're safe. But me? I never know when my time will come. I don't have life security. The friends I make either choose me, or are made on the battlefield."
"No one, even when you weren't a soldier?"
"Let's just say that I wasn't particularly liked as a kid. I got into trouble, jumped from school to school and home to home. I didn't have time for friends, let alone an emotional attachment."
She nodded, making him appreciate her not pressing further. He had buried these thoughts long ago, and he dreaded bringing them back up.
Another silence fell, but since Weston thought he was the one who brought it on, he didn't really mind it.
He stood, motionless, letting the breeze from the ocean pelt his statuesque form. He closed his eyes and breathed in the salty air, enjoying the feeling. If he were just another guy, this would be heaven. But he knew that, soon enough, this little haven would be disrupted once again.
He laughed, thinking to himself that Nyka had been considerate enough not to do anything on this ceremonious day, even though the day was still relatively young.
Soon, Weston had had enough of the silence and said softly, "You'll find him, Yuna. Somewhere, somehow. He's out there, and I know you believe that with every bit of your soul."
She sighed softly and nodded, looking up to him. His eyes me with hers and by the state of her gaze, he could see she believed it. He smiled and started heading back to the village.
--------------------
Fagan sighed and opened his eyes. His chest was covered with a thin arm and he looked to his left, smiling warmly as the vision of his wife's face met his eyes. Her visage was one of contentment as she snuggled into his shoulder, mmming softly to herself. He ran a hand through her hair and slowly got up, pulling a robe around his naked form. With a sigh, he walked to the nearest window and pulled the drape's corner to the side. His eyes scanned the horizon, the newly risen sun nearly blinding him. Through his squinted eyes, he then turned his gaze to the city below. The city of Bevelle itself was very expansive, but no matter where you were in the city, you could see the temple at its center.
With a sigh, Fagan turned the drape's corner back and headed into a small alcove that resembled a cooking area. He kneeled down, placed a few wooden timbers into the bottom of a stove-like iron appliance and grabbed a primitive match, which was more or less gun-power on a stick, and struck against the side of the stove. He tossed the now lit match into the bottom and headed towards a collection of shelves. From the shelf, he pulled a bag of green leaves and a small circular pot. He pumped water from a large barrel into the pot and added the leaves. Just as he was placing the pot on top of the stove, his wife, Elaine shuffled behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He grinned and turned his head, kissing the tip of her nose. "Morning."
She smiled and scrunched up her nose a bit, returning the kiss to his cheek. "Morning."
"Tea?"
"Of course." And with that she slowly slid from the embrace and grabbed two metal cups from the shelf, placing them on a small round table in the center of the offshoot. She sat and motioned for him to do the same. He nodded and sat, smiling at her from across the table. Her warm smile seemed to have a tinge of worry, and his brow rose after a moment.
"Something wrong?"
Elaine sighed, her smile fading. "You spoke again, Fagan. In your sleep."
He hmmed. "What did I say?"
"Something about murdering the innocent..."
Fagan sighed, shaking his head as his neck failed to hold the weight of his cranium up. "It's nothing, love."
She sighed, leaning forward. "It -is- something. Something's got you worried and I hate being in the dark about it...Ever since Lord Nyka started his crusade...you've seemed distant..."
Fagan sighed once more, tossing his long sandy locks from his face. "Elaine...I wish I could tell you..."
"Is it about what happened in Kilika?"
"How do you know about that?" Fagan asked, more shock than anger in his voice.
"Word gets around, especially when one is a councilman's wife..."
Fagan sighed, nodding. "Elaine...It..."
I know Fagan, having our Army defeated in battle is hard to accept...but it's going to happen. Yuna's army won't be able to win every time, ya know."
Fagan hung his head even lower, hating the fact that his wife was just as clueless as any other misled citizen.
His gaze returned to hers, his look serious, truthful. "Elaine. It wasn't an ambush. Our troops killed innocent people to lure the Crusader's out and then paid the ultimate price for it. Nyka's only fueling the patriotic fire."
For a moment, and only a moment, he thought he touched her, but then she laughed. "Surely you jest, dear. Nyka would never lie, even in the common good of the people. You should be ashamed of yourself, joking like that."
She smiled at him with a wink, but his countenance remained firm, making her smile fade fast. "You're...serious, aren't you?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She raised a brow and drew back in her chair, watching him. "Surely, you're only..."
"I'm not joking."
"...Fagan! I'm disappointed in you. What, are you going to spread rumors now? Get some public distrust for Nyka, and then, while our great leader is betrayed, take his power from him?"
"No..I"
"Fagan. This is preposterous. Are you feeling well? Maybe you should lie down? Here," and she made her way to the boiling tea, pouring a bit into one of the cups, "have some tea. It might make this...mind cloud of yours dissipate."
He waved a hand, shaking his head. "I'm of perfect sound mind. I need no tea to tell the truth."
She placed the cup down heavily on the table, causing a bit of the steaming tea to land on the wood. His eyes turned to the steaming puddle in front of him, and he didn't notice her storming off to the bedroom.
When she emerged fully clothed, shopping satchel firmly attached to her side was the moment Fagan realized that the most important thing to him was walking out onto the street without even a goodbye.
He sighed and went into the bedroom, slipping off his morning robe and slipping on a silky shirt and trousers. Silk was one of the many benefits a councilman got to experience. After this, he threw his white robe over his clothing and grabbed his staff. He turned curtly, making his robe sway to and fro and made his way out of the door, locking it behind him. He turned and looked out onto the busy street, sighing heavily as he began the trudge to the temple.
--------------------
Weston hmmed, watching as the seats filled with villagers. He was standing outside of the general area, so what was said at the altar, he couldn't hear. All he knew was that Wakka was nervous as hell, and Lulu was trying to preoccupy herself, even at the last moment. As far as he could tell, it wasn't going to be a ceremony he was used to seeing. Without a god to speak of, or any true semblance of law, this wedding was going to be as bare bones as possible. The only thing that could be truly established was the bond of love.
He didn't stand very close for one main reason: he didn't feel like he should be involved. Despite the others protesting, telling him he had as much a right as any to attend the ceremony, he refused. This was something that had brewed long before he had arrived, and he didn't want to intercede. Besides, something about a wedding during a war made Weston feel odd, even if he couldn't really explain why.
As a soldier, he knew of several fellow men that served, and died, with him, that had families they widowed. Most of the men he served with were either single or just married, and he knew, himself, that being married and being a soldier made you a marked man. You couldn't let yourself die, because you were in a love bond with someone. But, the enemy seemed to know just who to kill, and every funeral Weston had helped martial, was one with crying wives, even children sometimes. Of course, he felt guilty. How could he not? Here he was, an orphan, single, and a man without a past or, truthfully, a reason to go on living, and he wasn't dead. But Private Bateman or Private Willis, whichever John Doe on the Army's roster lay in this coffin at this particular moment, was gone, leaving a widow and/or children behind to grieve the loss of a spouse and parent.
But, Weston said to himself in his thoughts, better one parent than both...
His thoughts were interrupted by Gatta's nudging elbow.
"You just going to watch from here?"
"Yeah."
"I'll keep ya company. Not much of one for weddings myself."
Weston smirked. "Someone a bit bitter?"
Gatta shrugged. "Not really, but it makes ya feel guilty. Here we are, two men who've already killed so many...Tainted men, ya know? And there's Wakka, who is called 'one of the saviors of Spira', marrying another savior. They kill a spiritual being, they're legends. You and I, we kill a few regular guys, we're butchers, even in the minds of the people supporting us. That kinda kicks ya out of being very...social with the common citizens."
Weston nodded with a smile. "Not very fair, eh? We're risking our lives, and they turn their noses like we're rotted meat."
"Yeah, but that's the life of a soldier."
"I know. Wish I'd've set up shop as a carpenter. Wouldn't be here now."
Gatta laughed. "Yeah, you'd be in your own world, building houses for people and probably have a family."
Weston nodded, his disposition turning a bit sour. "Family history isn't one of my strong suits."
"That makes you the perfect soldier."
Weston cocked a brow.
Gatta smiled, not turning his gaze from the final preparations being made at the altar. "You've got no family ties. You're not married, you don't have kids. You're a man without a past or future. So, you're the perfect infantryman. Problem is, it's never guys like you and me who get killed. It's always the guy with the wife and two kids. A shame, really."
"Very much so."
And at that, the two stood in silence, watching the time tick by, approaching the beginning of the ceremony. Gatta's arms were crossed, as if he were waiting on something. Weston just stood there, arms at his side, legs spread a little.
After a little while, Weston noticed a hush go over the crowd in the seats. A man in ceremonial garb stood from a seat at the altar, and motioned for Wakka, who was now dressed in a long yellow robe, with sash, to approach him. Wakka did so and bowed. Next, the man motioned to the end of the aisle, which led straight into Wakka and Lulu's shared hut.
Lulu emerged from the ceremonial tent at the end of the ailse in a long back dress that cut off at mid-bosom, not leaving much to the imagination. Weston and Gatta's eyes followed her to the altar, where she stepped up, arms staying at her sides. The priest spoke to each of them individually, and then turned to the center, motioning for them to face one another. Wakka took Lulu's hands in his own and their eyes locked.
Weston wondered what it was like to love someone enough to pledge loyalty for the rest of your life. The concept had never seemed to be graspable to him, but he knew that love was powerful, for he'd seen men die, crying out their mother's, wife's or children's names as they blinked out of existence.
He watched as the priest said some lengthy passage, probably something along the lines of "love and support her/him" etc. After what seemed like ages, Wakka and Lulu kissed passionately, causing the seated villagers to jump to their feet cheering. Weston saw Yuna wiping a few tears as she stood and walked from her seat. She stopped a few feet near the aisle and watched, clapping all the while, as the two walked down the aisle leading to the reception tent. At the tent, Wakka pulled Lulu off her feet and nodded to the crowd, slinking into the tent afterwards.
Gatta gave Weston a knowing wink and started walking towards the tent.
--------------------
"I want Luca."
Cleagan sighed, not knowing what to say to his boss.
"I want Luca, and I want it now. If we can get Luca, we can get even more support, even if we have to force them at gunpoint! We're not going to have another Kilika. Their troops have not moved an inch and this day is our opportunity."
Cleagan cleared his throat. "But sir..."
"No buts. You men get on it. Issue the order. Take Luca at all costs."
The councilmen nodded and started leaving. Nyka cleared his throat and winced as the sun hit his eyes, his gaze weakened even more so as he looked across the horizon.
"Fagan," he called in a gruff voice.
Fagan sighed as he turned from the door, wondering why he was always the one to be picked upon by the old man.
"Yes, Lord?"
"You studied the Al-Bhed culture and language, did you not?"
"Received high marks, sir."
"Then you can help me."
"Yes?"
"I want to know everything you do about the Al-Bhed. How they think, what they like to do for fun, how they know so much about machina..."
"Well, sir, it'd take quite a long-"
"We've got plenty of -time-, Fagan. It's patience that I'm short on. I want to know everything. I know you may be asking yourself as to why, so I'll fill you in, my dear boy. Their "Home" is being rebuilt. Personally, I hate to say this, but spiritually, it is Yevon's will. We are to use their advanced machina to win this war. Without it, we are at loss. Remember, that had it not been for the Crusaders using that ship against our men, we wouldn't be in this situation. Now tell me all that you know, young boy, so that I may better understand the Al-Bhed, and how we can obtain some of their...machina."
Fagan swallowed hard, and regretfully started Nyka's lesson with the Al-Bhed's language.
--------------------
Gatta and Weston sat at the end of the long table, the couple all the way across from them on the other end. Toasts were being given, and people were being thanked, but not a word was said about the 'victory' in Kilika or were any soldiers thanked. As a matter of fact, Weston could see that the only Crusader present was Gatta. He leaned over and whispered into Gatta's ear.
"Where are your men? Thought they would've at least provided protection."
"They don't feel welcomed."
Weston nodded and leaned back, only to see a few dozen pairs of eyes staring at him. And, in a way, this made him feel more nervous than a few gun barrels in the face would have.
"Sorry," he said softly and the toasts continued.
Gatta nudged Weston and the two men left the tent, walking out into the afternoon sun. Gatta leaned against a nearby tree and Weston stuffed his hands into his hip pockets, feeling very unwelcome at the moment.
Gatta laughed. "Guess that was obvious enough."
"Yeah."
"Well, it's all for the better. Soldiers are tainted, like I said. We no more belonged in there than Ughol belongs on a Chocobo.
Weston cocked an eyebrow, causing Gatta to laugh.
"Chocobo. Large bird that can't fly. We used them for transportation. But, Ughol's too heavy for them."
Weston laughed, even though he still didn't quite get it.
Gatta seemed to notice the gesture and punched Weston's upper arm. "Don't bother humoring me, Weston. I knew that joke was lost on you."
Weston smirked and turned to see Yuna heading their way. Weston crossed his arms and stood, watching her as she walked over.
She bowed and muttered a few apologies before saying, "We didn't mean to push you out of the ceremony."
Weston laughed. "Don't worry about it. We knew we weren't welcome. Soldiers fresh from battle don't belong at a wedding and you know it."
Gatta chimed in, "The same thing happened years ago, when Sin attacked this village. Fresh from battle, my father tried to attend a wedding. He was pushed out by queer and angry stares."
Weston nodded and turned his attention back to Yuna. "Don't feel sorry, Yuna. It's just the way it works. We're not disappointed about it. Lord knows, some happiness needs to come to these people. It's not going to be easy, ya know, fighting this war."
She nodded, and sighed. "We thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for protecting Kilika. It was brave."
Gatta shook his head. "It wasn't bravery that saved Kilika, but duty. Bravery has nothing to do with being a soldier. It's our job to put our life on the line for whatever cause we're ordered to fight for. I just wish it hadn't been so one sided."
She sighed, shaking her head. "Gatta, I realize that it didn't seem fair, but the missiles from the airship were what saved both you and your men's lives. What had happened if all of Nyka's force had hit your men?"
He replied through gritted teeth, "More than likely we'd be dead and Kilika would be Nyka's."
She nodded. "Then look at it that way. A victory is a victory."
Weston laughed. "Sometimes, it's not that simple. There are no "winners" in war, Yuna. Just a guy who comes out of it with the most land or surviving troops. But everyone loses, on both sides. Lives are lost. What more can one give besides your soul?"
Her head dropped a bit, and nodded a bit.
Gatta spoke up. "A life is something precious. Taking it from someone is the worst feeling in the world. The guilt it causes is insurmountable."
Weston nodded in agreement, but then added, "After awhile, it gets easy. But the mental blocks you put up will stay there for the rest of your life. God help you if you let those walls down. I've seen men in nuthouses that were good soldiers, but, they're just empty shells now."
Yuna wondered about the "God" comment, seeing as Weston didn't specifically say the name of the deity he was referring to. After a moment, she nodded and whispered, "Peace be with you, sirs," and left for the tent.
Gatta smirked at Weston and he returned it.
"Funny how she'll never understand, isn't it, Weston?"
"Extremely."
"Let's make sure she'll never have to understand. 'God help' her if she does one day."
Weston noticed the use of his phrase and turned. "A believer, are we?"
"Of what?"
"-In- God."
"You sound like you're using "god" as a name, not a simple word."
"My god doesn't have a name. He simply -is-"
"Right."
Weston shrugged, not wishing to go into his beliefs with Gatta, for he knew that it was a lost cause. He simply sat down on the dirt path and waited, with Gatta at his side, for the ceremony to end.
--------------------
When Fagan arrived at his home, Elaine was still not back. It really worried him, since it was approaching nightfall fast, and Bevelle had its share of shady characters at night. Mostly vagabonds and heathens. But, even Fagan had to admit, his faith in Nyka, and New Yevon was wavering. He couldn't remember, after studying Yevon's teachings for so long, where Yevon had condoned the murder of innocent life to spread the word. And never had Yevon said a council, or singular leader should take it upon himself to destroy the heathens.
He sighed and disrobed, unbuttoning the silk shirt and letting mild air hit his pale, bird-like chest. With the flick of his ankles, he sent his sandals flying across the bed and into the wall. What Fagan lacked in upper body strength, he made up in leg power.
Fagan's back sunk into the comfortable chair and his staff dropped off to the side. His eyes slowly closed and he couldn't seem to burn the image of Nyka, sitting there, nodding intently as Fagan sold away the secrets of the Al-Bhed. It sickened him to no end. He knew he was just damning the culture he studied for years, a culture he had actually grown to appreciate.
But, he know, Nyka was now planning to take, or raid, Home for technology to combat the Crusaders. What he knew that Nyka didn't was that the Crusaders didn't have any advanced machina besides the airship, and that the Crusaders had probably used up the missiles in the Kilika battle.
Slowly the thoughts in his head faded, and he fell into a light sleep, dreaming, among all things, that his Elaine would return to him.
--------------------
"Lord."
"Yes?"
"The troops are an hour away from Luca. They should be there by nightfall." "Good."
"And what are there orders upon arrival?"
"Attack, full on. All five thousand troops. Take the town, every single building. Kill all who oppose. Put heathens in their place. Let them beg on the street while our soldiers seek refuge in their homes. That should teach them"
"Yes, sir."
--------------------
Fagan's eyes shot open as the door closed. He sprang to his feet, ready to run if need be. But, he saw a sullen face meet his own.
Elaine slowly trudged in, setting her satchel on the bed.
He whispered, "Where have you been?"
She replied in a terse tone, "In Merchant's Square. And then I found my way to the temple. I spoke to Nyka while the council was out to lunch."
"What did you speak to him about?" he managed, trying not to sound shocked or angry.
"You and how I can help you curb these thoughts..."
"Elaine I..."
"Don't bother with it. He didn't tell me anything but 'Do not worry, I will talk to him.' Did he?"
Fagan thought of all the possible answers, but chose the least harming one. "Yes, we actually talked for some time." He tried to hold in a laugh at this, even though he knew that this certainly wasn't the time for a joke.
She nodded and went to her chest, changing into her bedclothes, a thin silk pajama top and thick wool bottoms. He only stood there, not quite sure of what to say.
Finally, she turned. "I pray he talked some sense into you. But, he was certainly interested in what you had said. He seemed shocked. Almost more shocked than I was."
Fagan swallowed and closed his eyes, wishing this whole situation would just disappear, but something within him told him to forge on as he saw fit, for that was the true way of living. After a moment, she hmmed and shook her head. "I doubt it did. You're very stubborn...especially lately."
He started to say something, but decided not to, and went into the kitchen alcove. He made a pot of tea and sat, sipping quietly as his wife lay in bed. Time had seemed to speed by him as he napped, and he could see that the night had grown old. The moon was high in the sky, and he knew it was near midnight. What took his wife so long, he couldn't guess, but it had him worried.
He failed to notice his trembling hands as he looked to the jitter tea in his cup. With a heavy sigh, he drank the rest in one gulp, got changed, and slipped into bed. Tomorrow was not going to be a fun day for Councilman Fagan.
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A/N: Whew, a boring chapter indeed. No violence, no guns going boom, no nothing :P I was going to include a very long section all about the wedding, but, sadly, after fifteen rewrites (That's what took this chapter so dang long) I decided to just put it from Weston's point of view and skip the lovey dovey stuff for now. Who knows, I might actually do a mini-fic on just the romance between Lulu and Wakka that's briefly touched on throughout this fic so far.
Another thing about this chapter: We see even more depth added to Fagan. Why? Well, in some stories, major characters aren't even introduced until halfway through. And it just so happened that Fagan wasn't all that important to me in the beginning. He was originally just going to make a one-shot appearance in Part One (Chapters 1-9) but then he came back up in later chapters, and well, my outline needed fleshing out. So, Fagan grows into a major character in this chapter and will continue to be one throughout the remaining chapters.
Speaking on more important characters...Rikku will return in a big way soon, so look out for that. Tidus is still on his way, but it's coming slow, I know. Also, Chapter 12 introduces a whole new character, one of my own device. But that's all I'll say about that.
And, I'd like to start thanking people at the end of chapters, so here goes: I'd like to thank, first of all, the readers of Akin to Sin. Without you, there wouldn't be a fic...well, there would, it'd just be really boring. Thanks to you guys, I've added and changed many things that make this, in my opinion, much better than it would've been. I'd also like to thank my friends and fellow writers Brandon and Lauren (THE LOTR and Potter fan ^^, ff.net id number 202691) for helping me flesh out some details I just couldn't get down quite right. Thanks also to Coca~Cola company for making an addictive substance known only as "Vanilla Coke" and Kellogg's for all the Nutra-Grain goodies I've wolfed down writing this fic. Thanks goes to the following bands for making the writing experience seem a bit easier: System of a Down, Cradle of Filth, Opeth, Linger, Slayer, Spil, Eyebolt, Obliveon, Idea Killer, Meshugga, and many more I've switched on and off of my winamp playlist these past few months. Thanks also to my teachers, who think I take tons of notes, even though it's really this ficcy... ^^;;;
See ya next chapter. ~No One