Light filtered into the room from the wrong angle. The only window in Yuna's living room was on the right hand side, just above the couch, but this light poured in from across the room. Rikku blinked blearily, raising her head a little from where it rested on something hard. Had she fallen off the couch again? No, it didn't seem like it – she wasn't lying on the hard ground, she was lying on a soft bed. A bed? There wasn't a bed in Yuna's living room.

Her head throbbed. That liquor had definitely not been a good idea. She always regretted those things in the cold, harsh light of morning. Groggily she surveyed her surroundings. Stone walls, unadorned by pictures or wall-hangings of any sort. Sparse furniture – a wooden chest of drawers, an uncomfortable-looking chair, and a large, varnished armoire across the room. A small purple rug lay on the tile floor, the only real spot of color in the otherwise boring room.

She didn't recognize it at all. Normally she might have been a little worried by that, but with her pounding headache she couldn't be bothered to care about much. She turned a little, lifting the covers. No clothes. How odd. She was sure she'd borrowed one of Yuna's nightgowns.

The most befuddling thing, though, was the muscular, decidedly masculine arm draped over her pillow. She poked it with one finger, testing the firmness. Ah, so that was the hard thing she'd been laying on.

"Quit it, kid. I'm tryin' to sleep over here."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Gippal? What was he doing in her bed?

And just like that, everything clicked together. Stone walls. Not her bed, not Yuna's house. Djose. Gippal. Married.

Her stomach rolled violently.

"Oh, god, I'm gonna hurl."

- -

She'd made it to the bathroom, at least. Gippal could content himself with that. Still, he really didn't like listening to the undeniable sounds of retching within the bathroom, especially since she'd slammed the door closed and locked him out. He wondered if it would be insensitive of him to ask if she'd made it to the toilet. He'd left his favorite pair of boxers in there, and he wouldn't put it past a pissed-off Rikku to upchuck all over them if she thought it might irritate him.

"I told you not to drink so much."

"Shut up, Gippal!"

More retching. Maybe it had been a bad idea to remind her of that. He'd had a few hangovers himself in his time…a couple bad enough to keep him off of alcohol entirely for a few months. To this day, he couldn't even look at a bottle of tequila without getting nauseous.

Sighing, he put on some pants and pulled the shades on the windows down. Then he went and got a glass of water and a couple of aspirin.

All seemed to be silent in the bathroom when he returned, so he tested the doorknob. Still locked.

"There's an extra toothbrush under the sink," he called. He heard her opening the cabinets, and then there was the sound of running water. He fished the nightgown she'd been wearing the night before out of his clothes-hamper. "Need something to wear?"

The door opened a crack. She snatched the item from his fingers, and then promptly snapped the door shut. He rolled his eyes.

A minute later, she opened the door again, the nightgown covering her neck-to knees. She stopped when she caught sight of him, slowly going green.

"Oh, god." She turned, heading back towards the toilet, falling to her knees and shoving her hair back with shaky fingers.

It irritated him a little to be the apparent cause of her nausea. Normally women drooled over him. He'd never had one vomit at the sight of him. He set the water and aspirin on the counter, gently lifting her hair away from her face, holding it back for her as her stomach heaved rebelliously. Her trembling fingers clutched the porcelain toilet bowl. She looked miserable, tears streaking her cheeks, sweat coating the back of her neck.

He'd promised Yuna he wouldn't make her cry. He hoped this didn't count. He rubbed her back soothingly, waiting for her sickness to pass. Finally her unsteady fingers reached for the toilet handle, and she sank back. He lifted her to her feet, handing her the toothbrush again. She scrubbed her mouth viciously for a few minutes, then swallowed the aspirin. He urged her towards the bathroom door, back into the darkened bedroom, and towards the bed.

"Go on. Back to bed."

She hesitated briefly.

"I mean it. Now. I'll put you there myself if you don't get in." He pushed her forward with a hand on the small of her back. She stumbled forward a few paces towards the bed, then lifted the comforter and slipped in, sliding across the bed to the opposite side of it, rolling so she faced the wall. She drew her legs up, curling into a little ball.

He retrieved a washcloth from the closet in the bathroom, soaking it with cold water and then wringing it out. Then he crawled across the bed towards her, laying it across her forehead. Her fingers came up to hold it in place, and she turned just a little towards him.

"Thanks." Her voice was a little hoarse, and he could tell she didn't want to thank him for anything, but he'd done something nice and she appreciated it.

"How do you feel?" He rubbed soothing little circles over her back. Once she'd liked this, once she'd told him she liked falling asleep with him beside her, touching her, holding her.

"Horrible." There was a wealth of emotion in that one word.

"You look it."

She thrust a hand behind her, whacking his shoulder in irritation. He laughed a little, reclining back against the pillows, still rubbing her back. He could lecture her about the importance of thinking ahead, of considering the consequences of one's actions, but he was pretty sure she'd learned her lesson this time and she wouldn't welcome the rebuke. He was probably better off sticking with taking care of her. If nothing else, it could guilt her into being civil to him. Rikku remembered things like that and paid them back in kind.

But, damn, that girl could hold a grudge.

Once, they'd been best friends, lovers, and – even if she hadn't known it – husband and wife. And, yeah, he'd kind of ruined it by joining the Crimson Squad, but if she'd loved him – really loved him – she'd have understood. Or at least he'd thought she would. Instead she'd thrown several things at his head, told him he was the biggest idiot it had ever been her misfortune to meet, and dropped him like he'd been a hot rock. It still hurt, because he'd loved her so much. He still did, despite her generally frosty attitude towards him, because he remembered the way they'd been, the way she'd been years ago when they'd both been so young and in love.

He sighed, easing a little closer.

"What happened to us, honey?"

She stiffened. He expected a tersely delivered shutdown, an abrupt end to a conversation they'd never really had.

"You lied to me." He could hear the anger, the sorrow in her voice.

"Yeah, I know, and I'm sorry about it." He slid his fingers into her hair. She'd always liked that back in the old days. "But I meant back then."

"You lied to me," she reiterated, irritated that he just wasn't getting the picture.

"I didn't." Unless you couldn't not telling her they were married, but she hadn't known that then.

"You didn't tell me you enlisted in the Crimson Squad. I had to find out from Nhadala."

So that was who'd told her! "I was going to tell you. There just never seemed to be a good time."

"When, Gippal?" She scoffed sarcastically. "Right before you hopped on a ship to Bevelle?"

He had been kind of avoiding telling her. He'd known she wouldn't like it. He'd known she'd be mad at him. He hadn't expected her to just dump him like that, though.

"I didn't think you'd be that mad about it." His hands rubbed the tension from her shoulders.

"You could've died." She could feel tears stinging her eyes.

"But I didn't."

"But you could have."

It was a stupid argument, he thought. He could get stepped on by a shoopuf tomorrow – everyone had to die sometime. "You could've died on Yuna's pilgrimage," he pointed out.

"Yes, I could have. But I wouldn't have left you in Bikanel waiting for news. I wouldn't have gone, Gippal, if we'd been together."

He heard her teeth click together as she snapped her jaw shut. She'd said too much, told him far more than she'd ever meant to.

"I waited for news anyway," he said. "I'm always waiting, I've always been waiting. I never wanted to break up. I thought we'd be together forever."

So had she. But he'd lied. Everything about their relationship had been only a lie based on another lie. Had he even really loved her, or had his feelings been born from the idea that he was supposed to love her? She'd never be sure. She couldn't trust him – and she'd just learned it all over again.

"I don't…" Hr breath caught a little, and she struggled to speak around the lump of emotion in her throat. "I don't want to talk about it."

"We've gotta talk about it sometime."

"No. Please. Just…just let it rest." She didn't want to think about that time. It hurt too much. The memories were painful. His betrayal had cut so deeply that she'd cried for days. She'd been terrified for him, furious that he hadn't told her, hadn't asked her if she'd be okay without him. She'd needed him with her, there in Bikanel, safe, happy, beside her forever. She didn't like needing people, being dependant upon someone else for happiness. She'd needed Gippal and he'd hurt her, and she was determined to never need anyone ever again.

"Rikku…"

"Please. I'm very tired." She moved a little away from him, hoping he'd take the hint and drop it. He sighed.

"All right, kid."

She expected him to leave. She knew his faction wouldn't run itself. But he didn't. He stayed there, his hand tracing little patterns on her back, until she fell asleep.

-

He watched her sleep for a long time. So many things about her were different now. She even slept differently. Years ago she would've been draped over him, curled up against him comfortably, or maybe spread out across the bed, taking up as much space as was possible. Now she just curled into a tight, unmoving little ball.

He didn't recognize the person she'd become. She certainly wasn't the same bright, cheerful carefree girl she had been. She'd grown up a little, matured, but the woman she'd become bore little resemblance to his flighty girlfriend, his passionate lover. Now she was too afraid of being hurt to get involved, and that boded ill for both of them. Even if, by some miracle, she still loved him, it was going to take time to draw her out of her carefully crafted shell.

Briefly he wondered if she was really in love with the man she'd spoken to him of the day before. Was everything hopeless after all? Would she give him a chance to show her that he would be a good husband, a trustworthy husband to her? Or had she already decided that she didn't owe him anything except scorn?

She'd loved him once, he was sure of it now. Could he rekindle it, find a way to make their wilted romance thrive again? He didn't know. He wasn't used to being uncertain.

They were married, but he couldn't make her stay, he couldn't force her to love him. But maybe he could get to her to fall in love with him again, to take a chance on him and on their relationship. They'd been so happy, once. He wanted that again. He wanted Rikku in his bed, in his home, in his life.

Now if only he could get her to want that, too.