AN: Yes, it's been a little while. My apologies to those few of you that are following this story. This was one of my favourite Cloisters to write. I hope you enjoy it as well.

Cloister Seven

There were definitely scars on Isaaru's wrist. Beclem was sure he hadn't been imagining it. The question was whether they were caused by Isaaru himself, or by something a lot less dangerous than self mutilation.

If Isaaru really was depressed, then there was certainly more to the Praetor of New Yevon than anyone else had seen so far. The gentle smile he showed everyone may have just been a mask. It made sense in Beclem's mind. No-one could act that selfless without paying for it psychologically.

Beclem smiled down at one of the monkeys, which was pawing at his leg. Isaaru the monkey looked up at him from on the floor, and Beclem could almost swear it was smiling back at him.

He kneeled down and picked the animal up in his arms spending the next few moments looking at the animal closely.

"Is there something about you that I'm missing?" Beclem asked, wanting an answer from the human Isaaru more so than the creature in his arms. "Is there something that everyone is missing?"

Beclem contemplated making a report to the Youth League headquarters, but realised that he had nothing to report. That was better left until later on today anyway. He and Isaaru were planning on beginning their exploration of Via Infinito that morning after all. Hopefully they would find something within the chambers that would prove to be more useful than the fiends were.

Beclem was soon surprised to find one of Isaaru's underlings in front of him.

"Yes?" he asked the man. So far he had found he had very little to do with the other priests and priestesses of Bevelle. They were a grovelling and useless bunch as far as he could tell.

"Have you seen Lord Isaaru?" the priest asked him. "He wasn't at breakfast as usual, and he isn't in any of his usual chambers. He has been spending quite a lot of time around you lately, so we thought he might…"

The priest trailed off, looking around him nervously.

"You thought I might know where he is?" Beclem scoffed, careful to keep his tone indifferent. "Why would I know?"

Beclem felt a sudden panic boiling up inside of him. He didn't know why, but he had the feeling that something very, very bad was happening. Finding Isaaru now seemed to be far more important than it really should have.

He bid the priest farewell, and ran towards the ex-Summoner's rooms. He passed Keekah on the way.

"Have you seen Isaaru this morning?" he asked her, before glancing quickly into the ex-Summoner's rooms to find Isaaru missing.

"No, I haven't," Keekah answered. "Why? What…"

But Beclem was gone before she could finish her question. She frowned as she watched Beclem run down the halls, wondering what could have possibly happened to make Beclem so worried.

For a moment Beclem thought of how embarrassing his panicked state would be if Isaaru turned out to be all right and in no trouble whatsoever.

Then the alternative came into his mind. What if he had run into some trouble? Or what if he had tried to…

No, Beclem told himself. Don't think like that. Just because there were scars on Isaaru's arms didn't mean that Isaaru would try and kill himself.

A flash of a silver knife crossed his memory for a moment, but Beclem shook that thought away for the moment. For now, all that mattered was finding Isaaru. Beclem headed straight for Via Infinito.

Isaaru glanced around him at the pale blue marble that surrounded him. His eyes followed one particularly beautiful pyrefly as it flew down the chamber and out of sight.

Yes, he thought. This would be the perfect place. By the time anyone found him it would be too late to heal him, and they would just assume that he had been attacked by a fiend. There would be no disgrace for his family, or any scandal for New Yevon to hide. Dorian could rule, as he so obviously wanted to, and everyone could get on with their lives. His memory would fade, as would his unexplainable sorrows. This would be the last day of his life.

He pulled the knife from the folds of his robe and stared at it for a moment. The cold steel of the blade felt so reassuring against his hand. He could see the reflection of the pyreflies in its superbly crafted blade, and for a moment he simply marvelled at the beauty of this moment.

"I better do this before I loose my resolve," he told himself, his hand tightening around the pitch black blade.

There could be no gentleness this time. The blade would have to cut deeply, and then there would only be a few minutes of pain, and then, blissful oblivion.

Isaaru took one last deep breath, and then plunged the blade into his flesh, making sure that there was enough strength behind the movement to cause the required amount of damage.

There was, as expected, an enormous amount of pain that started in his wrist and then spread to most of his arm. Blood began to pool around Isaaru's arm, spreading into the fabric of his robe.

The red, life-giving liquid was flowing out far faster than Isaaru had expected, and before long he felt overcome by dizziness. Blackness seemed to spread behind his eyes, and he collapsed on the floor.

The blood continued to flow.

Beclem felt his heart racing as he stood on the blue transportation glyph. The tug at his stomach as he was moved seemed to be even more sickening than usual, and Beclem fought against the instinct to throw up.

If Isaaru wasn't in Via Infinito, then Beclem didn't know what he would do or where he would search next, but sure enough, when he landed in the deepest chamber that Isaaru had reached he looked straight ahead of him to see a body lying on the floor, surrounded by a pool of its own blood.

Beclem felt his heart skip a beat or two, before he rushed over beside the body, hoping and fearing what he would find at the same time. He caught sight of the person's long red hair and knew that it couldn't be anyone but Isaaru.

He kneeled beside Isaaru, not caring that his knees were becoming covered in Isaaru's blood, and prayed that he would find some sort of evidence that Isaaru had been beaten by a fiend.

Isaaru was clutching something in his right hand however, and Beclem looked closer to find that it was a blood-covered knife, and sure enough, the blood was streaming from a fresh gash on Isaaru's left wrist.

"Damn it!" Beclem cursed as he reached into his pockets for a Phoenix Down. He pulled the lid off the bottle with his teeth, while one of his hands checked at Isaaru's neck for a pulse.

Thankfully one still existed, but it was so weak that Beclem almost missed it. He applied the Phoenix Down hurriedly, grabbing for two of the strongest healing potions he possessed at the same time.

Beclem had just finished applying the potions when Isaaru's eyes opened. The blood faded as Beclem watched, the wound on Isaaru's wrist closing and leaving nothing but a pale white scar.

"Beclem…?" Isaaru asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he took in Beclem's familiar mask, beneath which were tear-streaked cheeks.

"You're alive," Beclem sighed. "Good."

He reached up an arm and wiped away the tears that had gathered on his face in frustration. He hadn't even realised that he had been crying until now.

"What in the farplane did you think you were doing!" Beclem roared, the sudden change in his mood making Isaaru recoil. "I thought you were better than this! Why did you try and take the coward's way out!"

"The… coward's way?" Isaaru repeated, still coming to terms with the fact that he wasn't dead.

"Yes, Isaaru," Beclem growled, grabbing Isaaru's wrist and holding it up so that Isaaru could see the fresh scar that was beginning to form there. "The coward's way."

"You wouldn't understand," Isaaru sighed. "You should have just left me here."

"Don't you dare say something like that! Not after I just saved you!" Beclem said through clenched teeth. "Don't even think about it! Now tell me why you did this!"

"I told you; you wouldn't understand," Isaaru said, with more conviction than Beclem had expected.

"You'd be surprised."

"I…" Isaaru froze for a moment, and just stared up the ceiling of Via Infinito. "I just can't make everyone happy. No matter how hard I try, I never make any difference. I don't have a purpose, and without that, I'm lost."

"What do you think you're talking about?" Beclem said. "You're…"

"Don't you try and make me feel better by saying that New Yevon needs me, Beclem!" Isaaru said, getting just as angry as Beclem had. "New Yevon doesn't give a damn whether I die or not. All I am to them is a figurehead. Pacce and Maroda don't need me anymore. All I am in an empty shell now. I'm no use to anyone!"

"I wasn't going to say any of that," Beclem said quietly. "Because you've undoubtedly already thought about such obvious things, and, if you ask me, they're all pretty stupid reasons why a man shouldn't kill himself."

"What?" Isaaru began to speak, but Beclem silenced him with a hand gesture and continued.

"If they're the only reasons you can come up with for your existence, then it means that the only reason you exist is to make other people happy. That's no way to live. What about living to make yourself happy? It's obvious that you're not going to care whether or not I'm crying my eyes out tomorrow because you're gone, because you won't be around to see it. And you know what else you won't be around to see?"

Isaaru shook his head hesitantly.

"You won't be around to see a sunrise ever again, and you won't see Maroda laugh again, or see Pacce grow up. You won't ever discover what lies at the bottom of this ridiculous dungeon, and…" he added, reaching down to offer Isaaru a hand up off the floor. "You won't be able to kick my arse again, will you?"

Isaaru hesitated for a moment, before grabbing Beclem's hand and then, with an unexpectedly cheeky grin, pulling Beclem back down to sit on the cold stone floor beside him.

"I want to talk to you for a bit," Isaaru explained, the grin slipping from his face. "We can't do that on the surface without crowds of people surrounding us, so you're staying here for a while longer."

"All right," Beclem sighed. "What did you want to talk about?"

"You knew exactly what I needed to hear just then," Isaaru told the other man. "You guessed things about me that I wasn't even sure of. If I didn't know any better, then I'd think that you had…"

"I did," Beclem interrupted. "Or at least I thought about it. I was talked out of it by a good friend. I realised that if I died, I would never be able to see his smile again."

"I'd like to meet this friend," Isaaru commented. "He must be someone very special to make you to change your mind."

"He's in the farplane now."

"Oh; I am sorry."

"I thought about joining him for a while after he died as well, but then I realised how pissed off he would be with me if I met him in the farplane."

Isaaru chuckled then, the surprisingly welcome sound echoing around the empty hallway.

"I got the scar on my face the day he died," Beclem continued. "Not from a suicide attempt, but in battle. That's the only way for a true warrior to die."

There was a moment of silence, before Isaaru said something completely unexpected.

"Take your mask off."

"What! Why?"

"The only time I have ever seen your face was when I rescued you on the beach. It feels strange having a conversation like this with someone when I can't see their eyes."

"I'll take it off on one condition," Beclem answered after a moment's contemplation.

"What is it?"

"Promise me you won't try to kill yourself again."

"I promise."

"Mean it."

Isaaru was quiet for a moment as he thought. Could he go on living now? For some reason most of him was now inclined to say 'yes' if that meant the simple pleasure of getting to see Beclem's face again. When Beclem was around, death didn't seem like such an attractive option anymore.

"I promise you I will not try to kill myself again," Isaaru said. Something about his tone of voice helped Beclem realise how sincere he was, and he gave in, reaching up with both of his hands to take off Chappu's helmet, voluntarily revealing his face for the first time in over two years.

Without the helmet Beclem felt vulnerable, and looked this way and that, trying to avoid meeting Isaaru's eyes. Isaaru reached out and gently ran a finger over the scar on Beclem's forehead, noting that Beclem tensed at his touch.

He moved his hand down to Beclem's chin, raising it so that Beclem was forced to look him in the eye. He smiled gently, and was surprised to see the smile reflected on the other man's face. There was still moisture on Beclem's face from his tears, and Isaaru brushed it off with a sigh.

"I guess," he said, as he removed his hand from Beclem's cheek, "that we all have scars and secrets hidden away where no-one can see them."

Isaaru and Beclem emerged from Via Infinito over an hour later. They had sat on the cold floor for a while longer, talking about whatever took their fancy at the moment. Their pasts; their dreams, but nothing too serious or deep, and the scars on Isaaru's wrist were not brought up again. Beclem's mask stayed off until they left Via Infinito.

Beclem couldn't remember when the last time was that he had been involved in such an open conversation, but knew that it must have been when Chappu was still alive. He had also decided that he liked Isaaru a lot more when he was being more open; when the fake smile and kind words were forgotten, and he was no more than a person, like everyone else.

Keekah saw them soon after they had emerged, and smiled at the two of them. It didn't look as though much had happened at first glance. There was no evidence of a battle, but there was something strange about Beclem's eyes; just a hint of red around the edges, as though he had been crying about something, and there was something about the way the two were interacting that made Keekah wonder if something hadn't happened to make the two of them become just a little bit closer to one another.

Isaaru and Beclem smiled in return, and their smiles seemed, for once, completely sincere and warm.