AN: So, changing POV from Gippal to Baralai now. If by any chance you like this fic, it would be very nice to leave a review. Just so I know I'm not completely wasting my time. ;)

5. What Death Looks Like

My love was supposed to protect. It didn't.

My love was supposed to heal. It didn't.

- I Hold My Breath, by Johnny Klimek & Reinhold Heil, feat. William Shatner -

The day he had told them he would join the Crimson Squad was the last time he had ever seen his family. His father had been the one who had told him to choose between his foolish pursuit of fame, as he had seen it, and the love of his people. But how could he have stayed in the relative safety of his home, when all around them, people were dying, killed by Sin and its offspring? So he had left, without so much as a backward glance, and it had been the hardest thing he had ever done.

They hadn't understood. They thought he had rejected them, not comprehending that what he did was for them, to preserve their happiness. Never for fame, but to protect. Disappointment didn't even begin to describe what he had been feeling then, and when the Meister had assigned him to his little group of fellow Crimson Squad candidates, he had been almost choking on his loneliness.

Until a blond whirlwind of an Al Bhed had exploded into his life. Gippal hadn't taken 'no' for an answer, drawing him out of his shell with a stubborn cheerfulness that was impossible to ignore, tearing down his walls one by one. And he had clung to that easy friendship, never questioning it in his gratitude for the other's presence. It wasn't until they had gotten to meet Nooj when he realized that Gippal might need him just as much, that it might not just be a one-way thing. He had tried a little harder, from then on, to be there. To be a friend.

And whatever happened to change that?

He stared out of his window over the city of Luca, wondering. He would give almost anything to answer that question. The connection had still been there when Shuyin had taken control of him, he was sure of that. Gippal had risked his life, not only for Spira, but for him, Baralai. And in the first days of the Spira Union, he had been happy, enjoying the time he could spend with his best friend. Then Paine had arrived, and he had tried to make her feel welcome, to catch up with her. After all, he hadn't seen her once since they had parted years ago. He hadn't thought that, by choosing her, he might cause hurt for the one person he had never wanted to feel that way.

And Gippal had withdrawn.

It had cut deeply, not only that his friend would just leave like that, but that he had told Nooj, not him. Sure, he had noticed that the Al Bhed had felt more uncomfortable in Bevelle with each passing day, but he had put that down to exhaustion after their most recent adventure, or maybe homesickness for Djose. In hindsight, he berated himself for having been so stupid, but he'd never have thought that the other man might have felt left out, and really, couldn't they just have talked about it? Had their friendship weakened so much that the foundation, the trust, was gone just like that, and he hadn't even seen it happen?

His heart had dropped when he had gone to seek out his friend to tell him about Luca and found his quarters empty. Shock had turned to hurt when Nooj had informed him that Gippal had left days ago. Days. And when he had tried to talk to him, their encounter hadn't exactly gone as planned. That crazy story about dreams and things trying to kill him had really set him off, although now he had to admit it was probably the fact of Nhadala spending the night with his friend which had turned irritation into annoyance. And he was worried, because Gippal's face had been nothing if not serious. Not worried for himself, though. But maybe the stress had been too much, and the young Al Bhed was headed towards a full-blown breakdown.

"Hey," a voice from the door interrupted his thoughts. He turned.

"Hey." He got a good look at Paine's face, and frowned. "Something happen?"

"You could say that."

He raised his eyebrows when she wasn't more forthcoming. As much as he liked their former recorder, having a conversation with her could be very trying.

"So?"

"So. They want you in Bikanel."

"Do they now?" And who was 'they'?

"Yes."

"May I ask why?"

"Sure."

Baralai sighed. "Paine."

A smile flickered over her face, but it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared.

"There have been sightings of pyreflies," she finally offered, leaning against the doorway. "Seems they're just dancing over the desert, stopping everyone who tries to get near the place where the Al Bhed used to live."

Alarm bells started ringing in the back of his head.

I think something's in Bikanel, with Home.

It had to be a coincidence, he told himself. Nothing at all to do with Gippal.

"So what do they want me for?" he asked, pushing his nervousness aside.

"Yuna tried to get in. The pyreflies wouldn't let her. You were the praetor of New Yevon. You're something of a spiritual leader. People are getting worried, upset, so they want you to try and stop the glow-worms from flying." Paine shrugged. "Guess it can't hurt to give it a shot."

Well, yes, and if he left Luca and went to Bikanel, he would have a reason to stop at Djose on his way back. To calm Gippal down, assure him that nothing was there. Him, and himself.

"Alright," he said, "let's go."

Of course Gippal had come down here. Baralai's uneasiness had returned at the sight of the Al Bhed assembled around the hole, and evolved into a full-blown panic when he had heard that his friend had disappeared hours ago. He had managed to keep a calm façade, if only so they wouldn't stop him from trying to follow.

The pyreflies had let him pass, much to his surprise. So now he stood at the bottom of the hole that had once held the Al Bhed's Home, not really sure what to do. Gippal had sometimes told him of his childhood, his eye filled with longing as he painted with his words a picture of safety, of corridors vibrating with the low hum of machina, of Al Bhed coming and going, explorers, engineers, merchants, or simple travellers. He had always thought how he would have liked to visit his friend's home, to see the wonders his people had found buried under dust, rock and water to bring them to their artificial life again. To see the destruction that had befallen this place was enough to make him swallow the bile that was rising in his throat. It smelled of rust and damp sand, and a dusty rotten scent that might stem from the moss growing on the rocks and debris around him. Water dribbled down some of those rocks, glittering in the gentle glow of the orb he had brought down with him to use its light, courtesy of the Gullwings. The three women had been up there, along with Yuna's Tidus. They had wished him luck.

He felt more and more as though he might need it.

Baralai followed the only path he could make out between the silent witnesses of pointless destruction. His footsteps were the only sound that pierced the deathly stillness. His footsteps, and the rising jingle everyone on Spira had learned to associate with the carriers of souls, the pyreflies. Their multicoloured light was flickering before him, partly hidden by large slabs of half-molten metal, bent and twisted out of shape. Whatever it was they were protecting, he was close.

He made his way around the last obstacles. And stopped short. Eyes widening, desperately trying to beat down the cold fear that gripped his heart and squeezed with the force of naked terror, he drew in a short, shaky breath as he took in the far too familiar face of his nightmares, skull eyes empty and lifeless, mouth turned up in an eternal skeleton grin. Vegnagun.

And to its feet lay the body of the one he had come to love more than life itself, so still that Baralai didn't even need to see the hole in his friend's chest, illuminated by a bluish glow and the sparkle of the pyreflies dancing around him, to know whatever had happened, he was far too late.

"Gippal," he moaned.

And the hope he had held that maybe, some day, he would find the courage to take his leap of faith and just tell him, plunged into oblivion. Killed as surely as if it had been here with the Al Bhed during his last moments, standing at his side, where Baralai's place should have been.

I think something's in Bikanel, with Home.

"I thought you were making it up, I thought you were crazy." A broken, hoarse confession that didn't change a thing. Far too little, much too late.

Something's there, something that will kill you.

But it hadn't, had it? Gippal had been the one to die, giving his own life to save someone who didn't deserve such a sacrifice.

"I'm sorry, I should have believed you," he whispered, dropping to his knees. The pain constricted around his chest, making every breath a painful task, but he could barely feel it as he reached out for the one who's soul had burned so brightly, thrumming with life, just to be lost in the dark, alone. Abandoned.

Gippal.