Little Xiaah

Ticking, thinking, ticking of the pencil, and three words—Den of Woe—lingered after Rikku left Gippal's office. The space felt crowded and empty at the same time. The variance between the two depended on where he focused his gaze, whether on his desk, which caused an automatic rise of claustrophobia, or whether on the floor, which had rocky indents and looked horribly bare. He had pulled off all the rugs when he moved in, and it had left nothing but a lumpy gray surface. He thought that perhaps he ought to paint it or do something with it. Nah, it didn't really bother him all that much.

The pencil Gippal had been holding finally broke under one last forceful tap against the desk. Those three little words had caused him to lose of all sense of concentration and turn into a pensive, manic-tapping idler, who had a million things to do to be wasting time on three—insignificant, he had thought—little words. But the memories came rushing back and not because of the mention of the Den of Woe. He had been expecting that. It was her and it put together. It was her crazy idea that was the problem. He had compelled himself to buy some time to think of a way to convince her out of it. What had possibly come over him? The girl entered into his room, and he lost all sense of the intelligible. It wasn't his business if she wanted to go have a self-torture party at the Den of Woe, but then again, it wasn't like they were blowing it up for no reason.

Rikku.

Yeah, she was definitely the problem. Ever since he saw her for the first time since childhood over a year ago, his thoughts had wandered back to her every so often. She was one of the great saviors of Spira—god, that thought brought on the urge laugh every time. Little Rikku, Cid's girl, a high guardian. Too much had changed since they were children, but then there was always something incredibly off about her, almost as if she could only be meant for great things, because her character could take them. The more she suffered, the stronger she became, or something like that.

She looked like your typical Al Bhed girl, except with a slightly slimmer build and a very cheery demeanor. She had the typical blonde hair and the lightly tanned skin. There was really nothing extremely special about her. There never was, except that smile. All she ever needed to distinguish herself from everybody in Spira was that smile. "I'll overcome anything," she seemed to say with her mischievous grin. And it held to be true. She had helped defeat Sin, and defeated Vegnagun as well, saved his ass along with Nooj and Baralai's from certain death.

If it hadn't been for Nhadala, he would have probably complied with Rikku's request without trying to trick her out of it. He would have still argued for old time's sake, because if her smile was great, her angry expression was even better. Still, as much as he hated the damn cave, it would have been too much effort on his part to try and stop her. But then, who could have factored in Nhadala?

"It was the best find, I agree," Nhadala had said to him. "Actually, Rikku's team, well used to be anyway, found it. That was a pain really."

His ears perked up at the mention of Rikku. "What do you mean?" he asked. He never asked her to divulge any details, because she could go on forever in that vapid busybody way, but it wasn't like she wouldn't have told him anyway.

"Well, there was this whole drama about it. I had to let her go." She had that pompous Al Bhed accent, which sounded like she spoke with pebbles under her tongue. "The supposed great savior of Spira—High Guardian, Gullwing and all that—froze up at the sight of a fiend. Well, it wasn't exactly the sight. It was something to do with the pyreflies. I don't really recall." She waved her hand, a sign of dismissal of the subject, and they moved back to talking about the meta-racer engine. However, the subject couldn't stay out of his head. Something bothered him about it, and he thought it was perhaps the old instinct returning back to him from so long ago. He guessed he'd always have a soft spot for the girl, or maybe because he could still clearly hear his father's words in his mind.

"She's not just any girl, Gip, she's Cid's girl, and that makes her very special."

---

It had been over twelve years since he said goodbye to her that day, when they were both little children unaware of everything that happened around them. She was a little better at noting the changes in adults than he was. She could easily tell when something had gone wrong, or if they were hiding something from them. She could read the older faces with this prophetic ease as if she had never been a child to begin with. They'd met two years after Sin had destroyed their old island. The Al Bhed had scattered around Spira, and—the machinamongering rats, as they were called back then—had spread throughout the entire continent. The Al Bhed people had come to call it Knayd Tecbancym, or Great Dispersal, when at the hands of Sin, thousands of people were lost and the Al Bhed's population reduced by one third. It had been a total catastrophe.

Gippal had been one of the lucky ones. His whole family had survived, mainly because his father had been working to uncover some machina east of Zanarkand and had taken his family along for the expedition. His father never liked being too far away from them. The Al Bhed family was usually spread out; you could have brothers and sisters and not even know where in Spira they were. His father said he had seen too many people lost that way, and what he'd really meant was that his family had been lost that way.

After Lord Braska defeated Sin and the new Calm finally came, Cid contacted Gippal's father. Cid had already become quite famous for gathering some Al Bhed, and there were rumors that he planned to build a new home in Bikanel, another desert island with a small Al Bhed colony (where both Gippal's father and Cid were born) that were willing to aid in any rebuilding. Cid wanted to bring back his people together, and most somehow believed him. He had lost his wife in the incident, but somehow that had made him stronger and more willful to gather the scattered Al Bhed back to a place where they wouldn't be seen as rats, but where they could be at home again.

At that time, Gippal's family lived in the outskirts of Luca, one of the few cities that had so many odd people that no one really cared if you were Al Bhed or not, well, for the most part. His father was employed in some kind of dig site on the coast a little bit north of the city. Cid had come to their small apartment door, holding what at first Gippal thought was a small doll in overalls, but turned out to be his daughter.

Cid set her down on the sofa, and she sat next to him with her back erect and her green eyes wandering all over the living room, taking in the old machina and blueprints Gippal's father constantly worked with.

"Vydran," she said in a low, but calm tone. "This just won't do. Take me to the desert with you. If Brother can go, I can go too." Her manners were decisive and calculated. She would always look her father right in the eyes with a sense of pride as though she were the same stature as him.

"Brother is older, and Bikanel will be a mess for while and no place for a little girl," he told her, nodding awkwardly at Gippal's parents. Gippal only stared at her from the corner while he played with a toy hover model his father had built him.

"I am not any little girl." She crossed her arms indignantly. Cid cleared his throat with an exasperated expression onhis face. Gippal's mother stifled a chuckle.

"Oh Cid, she's delightful," his mother said and Gippal eyed the girl jealously. He didn't understand what his mother was talking about. This girl was behaving like one big brat.

"Why don't you introduce yourself like your mother taught you?" Cid appealed to the little girl. The mention of her mother eased the tenseness of her limbs, and a sad smile spread across her small face.

"I'm Rikku, pleased to meet you." She gave a polite nod at his parents, and Gippal had the sudden dread of what was coming.

"Gippal, come over here," his father said, and the boy flinched. "Don't be shy," he added. Gippal obeyed and stood next to his mother, possessively taking her arm and glaring at this little blonde doll. He hated dolls. To him, they were stupid and useless.

"This is our son, while you're here, you both can play nicely together," his father said emphatically while glaring at Gippal. The old man knew his son too well.

Rikku stood up and stepped next to him, looking him up and down and then comparing his height with hers using the palm of her hand as a measurement tool. She was taller than he had first believed, but her tiny body structure made her seem smaller than she was.

"He's only three-fingers taller than me." She set her hand down, glanced toward his mother. "How old is he?"

"Well, Gippal, won't you answer?" His mother petted him on the head, but Gippal glared at the young girl spitefully for talking about him as if he weren't even in the room.

"I'm eight," he said proudly. He thought by her smallness that the girl couldn't be more than five.

"And you're only a year older." She smiled at him with self-satisfaction.

"There, you'll be fine, little xiaah." It was her father's nickname for her, "little queen." He never understood how that didn't serve as a warning to his parents.

"Vydran, oui'na y sayhea. How could you leave your daughter behind?" she said, her small hands clasping in front of her and demanding the same kind of respect an adult would have asked for.

"Rikku, that's enough nonsense. You're my strong little xiaah, and I expect you to behave that way. Now, your father is busy. Do you want a home?" His expression was stern, and she withdrew with a quivering lip. Though it was obvious she was about to cry, she bit her trembling pout and held it back. She swallowed hard and faced him with her chin high.

"It better be the best home in the world." Cid swooped her up in his arms and kissed her many times, but she held her stiff expression of disapproval.

"It'll be the best home ever," was the last thing he said to her besides a goodbye and another kiss after talking in length with Gippal's parents.

The situation could only worsen after Cid left, and Gippal soon found out just how much worse. His mother had set up small crib-like bed on the other side of his room and moved some of his things into the small closet. He complained about some of his favorite toy machines being stored behind locked cabinets, which he could hardly get any access to, but his mother simply told him that they all had to make small sacrifices in order to help Rikku.

As for Rikku, she stood, like a sentinel, by one of the windows and leaned on the edge, her face intently watching the streets for hours. She said nothing to anyone, or hardly even moved. Whenever a loud noise would startle her, her small bony shoulders would jump, but she wouldn't look toward them. As Gippal's mother re-arranged his whole room, he could take it no longer and finally spoke up in anger.

"This isn't fair, those are my things," he protested as she put away more of the leftover gadgets his father had given him.

"Rikku can help you take them out when you want to play with them." She had begun padding Rikku's bed and folding some blankets over it.

"Why does she have to stay here?" Gippal sat on his bed with an angry pout, and his arms folded over his chest.

"Vun Vyodr'c cyga, Gippal, because she just is." His mother turned to him, pulling a short blonde lock behind her ear and crouching down to meet his eyes. "I want you to be nice to her, okay? She doesn't have a mommy like you and that's very sad for a little girl." His father came in the room at that moment and asked how things were looking. His mother stood up and smiled. "Just fine," she said, but Gippal wasn't ready to drop the subject.

"I don't even like girls!" he shouted, demanding attention again. His mother sighed, but his father just looked at him sternly.

"Hey," he said, but immediately softened his expression. "She's not just any girl, Gip, she's Cid's girl, and that makes her very special. Listen, I'm going to be gone all next week, and you're going to have to look after your mother and Rikku. Can you do that?" Gippal glanced toward the door, wondering if the little girl was still staring out the window.

"I guess," he muttered under his breath. His dad ruffled his hair a bit and grinned. "I hope she doesn't wet the bed and all," he added with a huff.

While his mother cooked, the little girl strode over to the kitchen and watched the whole process, occasionally handing her condiments within her reach when she knew his mother needed them. Though she was quiet, her presence was omniscient—she observed everything that happened around her with every sense. The apartment suddenly belonged to her, because her silent aura seemed to be all about it. His parents didn't exactly pay extra attention to her, but her appearance commanded a sort of reverence from them. The most remarkable thing about her, his parents had whispered to each other, is that she hadn't cried, nor sniffled. Her separation with her father had rendered her mute and still, keenly aware, but not an active participant. But at dinner, her silence finally broke and with a delighted smile, she gave a little squeak once she tried the food.

"It's so good," she said, entirely too surprised to be normal--not that he could have ever imagined eating the cooking of man like Cid, but his mother had always cooked like this, and he'd never thought of it as special, especially when she put in those green herb things she loved. His mother laughed and thanked her for the compliment. And as not to be left out, Gippal then said, "My mother's cooking is the best." A comment to which his mother raised her eyebrows at him, and then shot a curious glance at his father.

"Well, Magda tries her best, but I'm surprised, Gip, you've never noticed before," his father said with a chuckle, and Gippal felt it was purposely to embarrass him, and it did. The little girl giggled over her plate and regarded him with a devious glare. Gippal ate his food with newfound speed and with the sudden urge to get away from Rikku's stare and his parents' mocking.

She became perfectly conversational after that, asking about Luca and the rest of Spira, which she hadn't really been to and taking particularly keen interest to his dad's expeditions in Zanarkand. Gippal joined in the conversation to show off just how much he knew about Zanarkand for his age, delighted to see a clear advantage to her in this subject, but her curious glare on him had quieted him down. He couldn't stand the way her big green eyes searched his face for something. He didn't quite know what, but he knew he didn't like it.

Then night came, and his opinion about her changed. He didn't quite know how it happened, but he supposed it was her crying. He supposed anything that cried couldn't really be all that intimidating or disconcerting, though he hated to hear her sobs at first. She faced away from him, and he faced his wall. An hour after they had gone to bed and just as he was drifting off, he heard them—those soft little whimpers that filled the room like a foreboding fog. He tried to ignore her at first, but when they grew into dry gasps they became so alarming that it sounded as though she were choking.

"Stop it, will you?" he whispered hoarsely. She said nothing, and the sobs continued. "I can't go to sleep if you do that all night." He turned to face her blonde head. The sobs had become less audible and frequent, but her little body shook between the small intervals. With an exasperated sigh, he stood up, remembering his father's words and fearing he might reproach him for not helping her out.

"Hey." He shook her shoulder.

"Go away," she whispered, shrugging his grip off her.

"You're still crying." She shrunk further away from him and closer to the wall.

"Yeah, well, I can't help it," she spat out between sobs.

"Do you miss your dad?" he asked, and she lay perfectly still after that. Gippal sat down on the floor by her bed. "My pops say that Cid's a great guy, and he's going to reunite all the Al Bhed."

"Vydran's a meanie, and I don't care about him anymore," she uttered spitefully, her sobs starting up again.

"You don't mean that." Gippal stood up, and pushed on her shoulder lightly so she would face him. She whipped around suddenly, her eyes stern and glowing under the dim lights penetrating the darkness from the window. Her face was pretty, smooth and synthetic looking, and if it hadn't been for the tears he might have almost forgot she was real.

"I do too mean it," she said. "He shouldn't have left me."

"My father leaves all the time for his job, sometimes for a couple of weeks, but he always comes back. Besides, I thought you liked it here." A long pause followed his comment as her sobs grew less frequent.

"I like it a little." She wiped her tears with her forearm. Gippal suddenly had an idea, but it would take a lot of effort. He shook his head and decided to go for it anyway.

"Here, get up and help me move your bed," he told her already pushing on the small bunk. She stared at him for a second or two, and then got up to help him. "Why didn't you bring any toys with you?" he asked her.

"I didn't want any. When our island got destroyed, they all—I didn't want any new ones." They pulled the bed away from the closet wall. He carefully began moving some boxes, and quietly rummaging through one or two that he thought might have what he was looking for. Then he saw it, the one thing his mother had kept that he hadn't used since he was three. He brought out the small, worn stuffed cat and held it up toward her.

"Here," he said, giving it to her. "It's not new, so it shouldn't be a problem, right?" She grabbed the stuffed animal and examined for bit, patting it lightly. She glanced up at him with a nostalgic gleam in her eyes.

"I can have it?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Just don't cry anymore, so I can sleep." He put some of the boxes back, until there was enough room to push her bed against the closet doors again.

He went back into his bed and she into hers. They both faced each other, and he watched her until she drifted off to sleep tightly holding on to the blue cat. Then he shut his eyes and finally slept with an odd sense that something had changed.

Post A/N

Thank you so much for reviewing. I was fangirly giddy to see two writers whom I think are the best in ffx2 fan fiction reviewing my fic (I'm such a suck-up, but I do mean it). Super Kawaii, thank you for being such a loyal reader too. I might not update until next week, so I hope little!Gippal and little!Rikku appeases you until then.

Oh, and so I got over my laziness with this whole Al Bhed usage thing...

Al Bhed phrases

Part Nine- as you can see below, there's no content essential for you to know, and you can extract meaning hopefully from context. My problem with Al Bhed is that in narration usually it is easiest to use words/phrases that aren't readily translateable, but since Al Bhed is not a real language, it's kind of hard to estimate which words would have certain cultural connotations. These are the words/phrases which I use in part nine and consider as having "cultural baggage" in my fic, and part of it is my choice to translate words like "fayth" into Al Bhed. Hopefully, this will make it clear on how I will be using it, 'cause this always confuses the crap out of me in other fics.

-Xiaah: queen

-Vydran: father

-Oui'na y sayhea: you're a meanie

-Vun Vyodr'c cyga: for fayth's sake

Thanks for reading!