A/N - To answer a question, Auron is 23 at this point in the story (it's been six years since he arrived in Bevelle at the age of 17). Not that much older than Jass, it's true, although I suspect people grow up pretty fast in Spira during this time.

Inspiration

I woke early the next morning. Kal and I had staggered back to camp after about an hour in the forest, exhausted but calm, supporting each other as we walked. My men said nothing about it, but they all treated us both with care and consideration -- an extra ladle of stew here, an encouraging word or pat on the shoulder there. Maester Brac had excused both of us from watches that night, and I slept like a rock. I had a bit of a headache, probably a delayed reaction from the knock I had taken the day before, but otherwise I felt much better.

Kal sat alone by the campfire. The cut on his cheek had scabbed over but was still an angry red; I wondered with a pang whether it would leave a permanent scar. He poked at the coals with a stick as he drank his coffee. I knelt next to him and poured myself a mug. "How are you?" I asked.

"Better," he said, flashing a quick smile. "You?"

"Yes," I replied. "Thank you."

He nodded. After a long pause, he looked at me. "Can I ask you something? You can tell me to butt out if you want."

"Go ahead." I lifted my cup and drank.

"Who is she?"

I swallowed my mouthful of coffee, then took another sip, using the time to collect my thoughts. I had been expecting this question; I just needed to decide how to respond. "Arelle was my girl before I was sworn," I said eventually. "As soon as I'm offered a command, I plan to send for her. I was concerned that being betrothed could hurt my chances for advancement, so I've kept her existence quiet. Kinoc and Braska are the only others who know."

"I see." He finished off his drink, then turned the empty mug around in his hand. "I'm sorry I interrupted you like that yesterday."

"Don't be," I said, staring into the flames. "It was... fortunate... that you appeared when you did."

Kal stood and stretched, tossing the stick into the fire. "Ah. Well, don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

We broke camp in near silence. The mood was sober, though slightly lighter than it had been the previous night. Maester Brac finished his breakfast and joined me as I observed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Refreshed, your grace. I thank you for your excellent advice. I still grieve, but my soul is no longer crushed by the weight of it."

"I'm pleased to hear that." The Maester buried his arms in the folds of his sleeves. "But I hope you understand that there is a time to show grief, and there is a time to inspire your men to move forward."

I understood his point right away. "And this morning is the latter."

He nodded, a pleased smile gracing his lips.

I walked over to where our standard had been planted and looked up at the banner, which twitched lazily in the morning air. After a moment, I pulled it up, then carried it to the center of camp.

"Gray Squad!" I called. The men all stopped what they were doing and turned to me, Kal setting down the bucket he was about to use to douse the fire.

I looked at each face. "Every time Sin is defeated and a Calm comes, we have hope: hope that this will be the Eternal Calm, that we have finally atoned for our past mistakes and Sin will never return. Yesterday, that hope was lost, and we mourned. Today, we move on."

I slammed the point of the standard into the earth. The pole trembled for a moment, then was still. The flag floated in the slight breeze, drawing every eye.

"Gray Squadron will stand its ground! We will protect the Maester under our care from all threats, including Sin itself, even if the price is our lives." I bowed my head for a moment. "Many of our number gave themselves willingly yesterday for this cause. We will honor their sacrifice by remembering their bravery and continuing their work." I looked up again and met Kal's eyes. He nodded slowly, then hefted the bucket and threw a cascade of water over the campfire. It hissed and spitted as it died.

I pulled my sword from its scabbard and brandished it over my head. "Yevon be with us!" My men copied my gesture and echoed my cry. "Gray Squad, move out!"

Rikku shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"Madam Rikku!" the artist, a woman named Mellie, said impatiently. "How many times do I have to ask you not to do that?"

"Sorry." She'd been sitting quietly for about 45 minutes, and it went completely against the grain. She wished desperately that she were somewhere, anywhere else: on the Celsius with Buddy, helping Gippal set up machina systems in Kilika Port -- even arguing with Brother in New Home would be an improvement. Mellie sat opposite, holding a sketchbook and studying her, occasionally reaching for a different colored pencil and making a few deliberate strokes. "How much longer?"

Mellie sighed. "Please don't talk. It will only be a few more minutes if you just keep still."

Rikku started to nod, then caught herself.

"Hey Mellie!" Rikku noticed Tidus walking toward them, Liss by his side. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

The painter blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Of course, sir." She put down her sketchbook and went to meet him.

" Dryhg dra sygan," Rikku sighed, reaching her arms over her head in a huge stretch. Then she checked out to the huge canvas propped against a nearby easel. The figures had all been sketched in; these latest sessions were for Mellie to record the details of facial features. Yuna's six guardians formed a rough line in the painting: Tidus and Lulu in the middle, Rikku and Wakka on either side of them, Kimahri and Auron standing guard at either end. So far, almost all of the work was still in pencil, so the few strokes of test color really stood out -- the blue of Kimahri's fur, Lulu's deep red eyes, Wakka's bright hair. Mellie was really quite talented; not only was each image a good likeness, she had captured the essence of each personality, even in these unfinished sketches.

Well, except for Auron, Rikku decided. The figure was mostly a generic shape at this point; he could have been any muscular six-foot tall man holding a gigantic sword over his shoulder. Mellie hadn't even made an attempt to draw his face yet, and Rikku wondered how the artist would manage it. Tuning in to the discussion going on behind her, she realized that the others were covering much the same topic.

"It's an interesting idea, sir," said Mellie, "but I'm not convinced. She may resemble him, but the underlying personality is completely different. The painting would probably end up looking like milady in costume rather than Sir Auron himself. Not to mention the fact that her features are feminine, whereas I assume Sir Auron's were not?"

"Most definitely not," Rikku muttered, thinking back to the guardian's usually stern, often forbidding, undoubtedly male countenance.

"Besides," Mellie continued, "I understand that his face was nearly covered by the armored collar that he always wore, not to mention his dark glasses. The details of facial features won't matter much because they'll be largely hidden. Thank you for the offer, milady, Sir Tidus, but I think not. I'd prefer to do a few studies based on the descriptions of those who knew him best, then get your feedback on which representation is the most accurate."

Tidus laced his hands behind his head. "Okay," he said. "You're the artist. So are you finished with us for the day?"

"I think I've had enough time with you both for now," Mellie replied, "but if you don't mind taking a few more minutes, why don't you tell me about Sir Auron?"

Our return trip to Bevelle had been uneventful. Word of Sin's return preceded us, and the commanders and high priests from Luca and Macalania beat us there. Scala, who was now second in command, had already started drawing up defense plans with them, along with the High Commander and the commander of Bevelle Garrison. The Besaid and Kilika contingents followed us by a day; Gibson arrived from Djose a day after that, along with Kinoc and several other Crusader commanders. We immediately sequestered ourselves in council, discussing plans for defending the temples and towns of Spira. Although I didn't hold a commander's rank, I was involved in these sessions -- being the leader of Maester Brac's personal guard gave me more influence than the average captain.

The night after the last members of the war council arrived, I was meditating in my quarters in preparation for bed when I heard a knock. I blew out the candle I had been using for focus and turned up my lamp, then answered the door. Kinoc stood there, still looking very strange to me in a Crusader uniform.

"Sorry, were you asleep? I can come back tomorrow." I shook my head and ushered him inside. He looked sideways at me. "It's been ages since I've seen you with your hair down; I'd forgotten how long it is. Isn't it a lot of trouble to keep it that way?"

I pushed some of the loose black strands back from my face, then closed the door. "No more trouble than getting it cut every few weeks would be." I shrugged. "What can I say? It's my idiosyncrasy."

Kinoc grinned. "Okay. You're allowed."

"Your permission is most gratifying," I said dryly. "So what brings you here? Certainly not a conversation about my hair."

"No." I offered him the chair at my desk and he sat, while I perched on the edge of my bed. "After I spent that night in Tzeki, I went back to Djose to collect the rest of my troops. Braska gave me stern orders to check on you, by the way. How are your injuries?"

"Mostly healed," I said, inspecting the fading scratches on my arms. "I got morning headaches for the first few days, but they're getting better."

"That's good. Anyway, I left a group of foot soldiers behind to defend the village. I met up with Gibson and the rest of Crusader command at Djose; they'd heard about the battle and made haste from Mushroom Rock. We headed back, and I stopped back by the village to collect my men -- I mean my fighters, sorry, this co-ed thing is going to take some getting used to -- for the trip to Bevelle. While I was there, your sister gave me these." He reached into his pouch and pulled out two letters. "Sorry I didn't deliver them yesterday. I figured you'd want to receive them in private."

I took the two envelopes and examined them. One was blank; the other displayed my name in Relle's handwriting. I drew my thumb over the slightly raised letters.

"Well," Kinoc said. "I expect you want to be alone now. I'll see you in the morning."

I nodded silently, not looking up. I heard him stand and open the door, and I glanced to him quickly. "Kinoc?" He paused in the doorway. "Thanks."

He smiled, then left.

I returned my eyes to the potential bombs in my hands. My fingers trembled slightly as I opened the letter from Relle.

Dearest Auron,

I hope that you returned safely to Bevelle and that this letter finds you well.

I wanted to apologize for running away like that. Though if I had stayed, we might have said or done something we'd end up regretting. And I never want you to feel regret when you think of me. Still, I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to explain.

I do understand why you couldn't stay, although I won't pretend that my feelings weren't hurt when you left. Kinoc told me that your friend Jass died at Djose Temple, and I am so terribly sorry -- I remember you always spoke highly of him. Everything that happened makes more sense now that I know how you must have been hurting, and I'm sorry if I made things worse.

Are you still expecting to take some leave next month? I look forward to seeing you if so, although I will understand if Sin's return keeps you in Bevelle.

Stay safe for me. My most heartfelt prayers are with you, now and always.

Love,
Arelle

I put the letter down on the bed and let out a relieved sigh. I'd been half afraid that she would tell me to go to hell, and I wouldn't have really blamed her for it. I owed her a significant apology, but I'd been putting off making it. I decided to write a note of my own before going to sleep that night.

Then I read the other letter, and my relief died.

Come home, Auron.

Relle won't admit it, but I can tell she's hurting badly. She needed you. You rejected her, then left without saying goodbye. Frankly, in her shoes I'm not sure I'd be willing to forgive you, but she seems to want to. That's her decision. But you should make some effort to meet her part way.

I can't stand seeing her like this. I love her so much, and it tears me apart that she's in such pain, especially when my own brother is the cause. Please, please make things right with her. Come home, or invite her to Bevelle. It's time.

I love you, little brother. Don't make me come over there and kick your ass.

It was unsigned.

I frowned in concern. Relle's words seemed genuine, but sometimes Kera could see things in Relle that she wouldn't admit to herself. I glanced over Kera's note again and concluded that both letters were likely true: Relle did understand, but she was also upset. I would have to walk a very delicate balance in writing my response to her. Which is why I'd been avoiding the blasted task in the first place.

"Damn," I muttered aloud. "This is all coming at a very bad time." I certainly couldn't get away now, and I probably wouldn't be able to take my upcoming leave. I had a Maester to defend and a decimated squad to rebuild. Sending for Relle wasn't really an option, either. If I didn't even have time to visit home right now, I certainly couldn't deal with a wedding. And I had a feeling that a command offer was very close. Many promotion and retirement rumors had been swirling around Bevelle lately, even before the reappearance of Sin. No one had said anything to me outright, but many hints had been dropped in private conversations between planning sessions over the last few days.

Was it worth getting a command if it meant losing Relle? Was it worth being with Relle if it meant giving up hope of a command? Would I have to break one vow to honor the other? I thought back on Braska's advice, long ago, about decisions and regret. I started to understand then just how true it was.

I stood up and paced across the room. This was too big a problem to solve tonight. Best to meditate and pray on it, then rest; maybe my mind would be clearer in the morning. I turned off my lamp, re-lit the candle, and sat at my desk in the darkness, blocking out everything but the tiny flame in front of me.

"Yevon guide me," I murmured as I released my thoughts. "Show me which path to follow."

Some time later, peace descended on my worried mind and troubled soul, and an answer came to me.