He checked on her again around lunchtime, when all of his employees were on break. She was still curled up in a little ball at the far edge of the bed. Slowly he sank down beside her, his fingers moving caressingly over her back.

"Hey. Rikku."

"Hmm." It was just a little sound, barely more than a whisper.

"Want something to eat?"

She moved a bit, stretching out, a little sound of distaste issuing forth.

"I'll take that as a no, then." He readjusted the covers, gently detangling them from around her legs. He tucked them in around her securely. "You need anything? Water? Aspirin?"

"Water. Please." Her voice was a little hoarse, a little dry.

He brought her a cup, helping her sit up enough to drink from it. Her fingers were trembling so badly that he had to hold the cup for fear she'd spill it all over herself.

"Feeling any better?" He brushed her bangs away from her face. She shook her head. "Poor kid," he said, brushing his lips against her forehead. "Go back to sleep, honey. I'll be back up in a little while when I close up for the day, okay?" And he went back to rubbing her back in those slow, rhythmic circles he knew she liked.

She almost felt guilty for taking advantage of his generosity, for letting him take care of her. They were married; he probably felt he was supposed to do things like this. But she didn't want to be married, didn't want him to be acting like they were some sort of happy little family.

But she was miserable, and his hands were so warm and soothing that she couldn't bring herself to ask him to stop. It reminded her of things she wanted to forget, things that she knew she would never forget. Those hot, lazy nights when they'd been little more than children playing at love. Those tender kisses they'd share in the early hours of the morning as they crept quiet halls of Home to return her to her room unnoticed. Warm summer days spent at the Oasis, cool summer nights spent on the banks beneath the starry sky.

She'd spent so much time being angry with him, being terrified for him, that she'd never really gotten to grieve for the end of their relationship. It had been too sudden, too unexpected for it to really feel over. But even if they were married, she wasn't his wife, really.

And maybe it hurt a little more than she liked to admit. So she closed her eyes tightly, and cried a little for those happy days that she'd never see again but would spent her life reliving.

-

He came to bed late because he didn't want to wake her up again. Probably she still wasn't feeling well. She'd curled up even tighter when he'd woken her briefly to ask if she wanted any dinner, and he hadn't wanted to make a pest of himself by forcing the issue. She'd had nothing all day but some aspirin and the odd glass of water, and it worried him a little, but probably she just wasn't feeling well and her appetite would return when she got better. He wished she would let him do more for her – she was his wife, he was supposed to take care of her. But he knew she would never see it that way.

He undressed quietly in the darkness, sliding slowly into bed beside her. His weight depressed the bed, and she slid towards him a little, making a soft, confused little sound. He'd accidentally woken her anyway.

"Sorry, it's just me. I didn't mean to wake you."

"S'ok." Her voice was soft, sleepy. He remembered that sexy, half-asleep voice well. There had been a lot of late nights, a lot of early mornings.

"Need anything? Food? Water?" He shifted a little closer, sliding his arm under her pillow surreptitiously. Maybe she wouldn't notice and she'd fall asleep in his arms just like she used to.

"No…thanks." He heard her sigh, felt her stretch out a little onto her stomach. In the darkness she couldn't tell how close they were, didn't know he could feel her warm breath on his shoulder. He turned a little onto his side, his free hand finding her back. She made a soft, satisfied little sound. "You always do this."

"You always like it," he countered.

"Mama used to rub my back to put me to sleep before she died." He heard her yawn. "I don't really remember her. But I remember that. And she used to sing to me." She laughed a little. "She had a horrible singing voice, but I loved it. I loved it when she'd rub my back and sing to me."

"I took over for her," he said. "She made me promise."

"You don't sing to me."

"My voice is even worse than hers was."

"I like your voice." She shifted a little towards him. "What did she make you promise? You were just a kid."

"She made me promise to look out for you. She said you were a crybaby and I'd have to teach you to be strong." He grinned, knowing she wouldn't like that.

"Mama said that?"

"Yeah, she was a little mad at the time." Actually, she'd been furious. On her deathbed and she'd still torn Cid a new one.

"What was she mad at?"

"Your old man. She thought he was stupid going out and marrying a couple of kids just because he thought it would make her happy." He sighed. "But she was happy, you know? Happy that he loved her so much, I think. And she knew I'd take care of you when we grew up."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me." He could hear the irritation in her voice.

"Sometimes you do, honey." His leg brushed hers, but she didn't move away. "Not always…but sometimes."

She didn't argue – she merely turned onto her side, facing away from him.

"Gippal…" He heard the little catch in her voice. "I don't want to be married."

"I know, honey."

"I'm going to Kilika in the morning."

He sighed. "I know that, too."

She fell silent. He knew he was going to have to let her go – reasoning had never worked with Rikku. She wouldn't see the point in arguing over something she'd already reached a decision on. She'd decided she wouldn't stay with him and that was that.

He moved closer – she hadn't noticed his arm, which was now situated perfectly beneath her neck, so when he moved, she sort of rolled against him, her head pillowed against her shoulder. His other arm slid over her hip, holding her in place.

"Gippal…" She made to move away, but his fingers tightened on her hip.

"Just give me this." His face turned into the tangle of her hair, breathing in her scent. "Just this, just for tonight." His lips skimmed her cheek. "I missed this. I missed you."

Slowly she relaxed back against him. She didn't speak, didn't explain herself at all – just rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. She thought maybe they both needed this night to recover, to heal, to move on finally. She knew it wouldn't change anything. She'd still be leaving. But maybe one night would do them both some good.

-

He woke the next morning to the distinctive sound of a hover approaching the temple. Disoriented, he lifted his head from the pillow, squinting against the morning sun spilling in from across the room.

"Rikku?"

Her gaze flickered his way briefly. She was tightening a length of cord through the loopholes of a pair of his old pants. She was practically drowning in one of his shirts – the collar slipped off her shoulder and she viciously shoved it back up, obviously frustrated.

"I've got a belt in the closet."

"It's still too loose, even at the tightest notch." She knotted the cord at her waist. He knew she'd never intended to ask permission to borrow his clothes – he'd taken her from Besaid without any of her own, and she probably considered it her right to take whatever clothes she needed since he hadn't provided any for her.

"Mind handing me a pair of pants?" He sat up, running his fingers through his mussed hair. She tossed him a pair from across the room, looking out the window.

"I've gotta go."

"Who's outside?" He climbed out of bed, tugging on the pair of pants. She tactfully averted her eyes.

"Keran. I asked him to come get me. He's taking me back to Kilika with him."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. It was too early to be warning men off his wife.

He approached the window, looking critically at the dark-haired man stepping off the hover. "He know you got a husband?"

"Not yet." She sighed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. She edged toward the door. "I don't wanna keep him waiting. He's doing me a big favor. Goodbye, Gippal." She walked out the door without looking back at him. And he didn't try to stop her. A few moments later she reappeared below, jogging out to meet the man on the hover. He leaned over, brushing a kiss across her cheek. Gippal slammed his fist against the wall, angrier than he could ever remember being.

"It's not goodbye, Cid's girl," he told her as he watched her climb onto the hover behind the man. He started it up and in a few moments they were just a tiny speck in the distance. "It's not going to be goodbye."