Gippal returned Rikku to her apartment in Kilika, said his awkward goodbyes, and made for Djose. There was no reason for her to return to Djose with him, now that Xac was dead. He wanted to mourn her, to mourn the marriage that he'd clung to with such hope for so many years. This time, he'd lost her for good. He'd been well and truly dumped.
But he didn't really regret it. She didn't love him. And if she didn't love him, she would never be happy with him. Setting her free was the only thing he could have done, the only gift he had to give her.
And he knew that he would never stop loving her. He'd always loved her. He had no idea if his love had been born from the knowledge that he was supposed to love her, or if he'd naturally grown to love her, but the fact remained that he'd loved her for as long as he could remember, and he couldn't imagine stopping.
And he couldn't help but mourn the life they could've had, the life they should've had. Because he would never have the big, happy family he'd wanted. Rikku would never give him a temple full of laughing, happy children. He'd never have children at all, because he only wanted Rikku's.
He wanted to take a bottle of vodka to bed and forget for just a little while, but he knew that come morning he'd just have a horrible hangover and a flood of memories. All he could do was resume his normal daily routine and bury himself in his work until the pain faded. He imagined it could take a while. Maybe years.
He collapsed onto his bed. Without Rikku there, it felt like miles stretched between one side and the other. It was too big, too lonely. Maybe he'd get a smaller one tomorrow. Anything to ward off the nightmares and memories that would surely plague him. Jerking the covers over his head, he flipped onto his stomach and squeezed his eyes shut until sheer exhaustion caught up with him.
Over the next few weeks, Gippal focused on working himself into an early grave. He woke up early and went to bed late and missed most meals. The Faction had never been better. His productivity soared, and his desk –which was usually a riot of paperwork arranged in no particular order – was tidy and organized for the first time since he'd taken over the temple. Everything ran promptly and efficiently, and projects were finished in record times. But that was usually because Gippal spent every waking moment in the office or in the workshop, cranking out repairs and custom orders at a feverish pace.
Most of his employees were surprised he hadn't yet keeled over, though they imagined it wouldn't be long until his inevitable breakdown. Gippal was starting to believe them. But he knew that if he stopped working, he'd start hurting again.
xxx
"You need to go after her."
Gippal ignored Keran, concentrating on replacing the timing belt on the hover he was busy repairing. He swiped his grimy fingers across his forehead, wiping away a thin sheen of sweat.
"Come on. Go after her." Keran tapped his fingers impatiently on the hood of the hover. Gippal got the distinct impression that Keran was resisting the urge to slam it on his head.
"Why should I do that?" He busied himself with wiping the grease from his fingers with an already dirty rag. Really all he succeeded in doing was pushing the grease around a little, but he figured it made him look nonchalant enough that he didn't care.
"Because you're miserable. Because she's miserable. Because she loves you. There's a plethora of reasons. Pick one."
"She doesn't love me. She was pretty clear about that." His voice was curt, wounded.
"Did she say she didn't love you?" Keran prodded.
"She burned our marriage certificate. That's pretty definite right there. I don't think she needed to say anything, really." God, it still hurt. And he couldn't make the hurt go away.
"But you love her."
"She's my wife, of course I love her." But she wasn't his wife anymore – she'd destroyed the evidence. She didn't want him.
Keran made an irritated sound in his throat. "God, you're dumber than a box of rocks. Do you do everything out of a sense of obligation?"
"What the hell are you rambling on about this time?" Gippal had thought they'd been talking about Rikku. He had no idea where the sudden switch had come from.
"Why does whether or not she's your wife have anything to do with loving her? Can't you just love Rikku for being Rikku? Do you love her only out of obligation? God, I don't blame her for leaving you if you only love her because you have to." Keran's jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. He was getting worked up – something that definitely wouldn't bode well for his still-healing chest wound and punctured lung. His voice rose angrily.
"You know, I gave her up because I figured you'd treat her right. I did the gentlemanly thing and backed off as soon as I found out she was married. But if you're going to sit here and sulk, I'm going to go take my chances with her. Who knows? Maybe she'll find me preferable to her cowardly ex-husband!"
Gippal was so enraged, he'd lashed out before he realized it. His fist slammed into Keran's jaw, forcing the shorter man to stumble back a few paces.
Keran rubbed his jaw, wincing at the soreness, then turned his head and spat a mouthful of blood. "Damn," he said. "I bit my tongue. You got some ice or something?"
The anger left Gippal on a rush, leaving him feeling lightheaded and strangely deflated.
"I, uh…yeah. Sorry. Hold on a minute." He retrieved a small sack of ice from the kitchen, then took a seat on a bench, sighing. "I'm sorry I hit you. I don't know what came over me," he said finally.
"I do." Keran pressed the ice to his jaw, grimacing. "You don't want to let anyone else have her. I think we proved that well enough. Now you've got to go after her."
"I can't," Gippal said.
"You won't," Keran corrected. "Maybe you're just not telling her what she wants to hear. Look, I know you're miserable, but I know she's miserable, too. She's acting just like you – sulky, irritable, generally dull and depressing to be around. That's not her. I want her to be happy, and she's not going to be happy without you. She just doesn't know it yet."
"What am I supposed to tell her? I gave her what she wanted. What else is there?"
Keran shrugged. "You let her go. Now bring her back. Look, I'll be honest with you. I'll provoke you again if I have to, but I'd really rather not get hit again if it's all the same to you. My girlfriend's going to wonder how I came by this bruise as it is," he said, touching the angry red mark on his jaw. It was already starting to go purple.
"Girlfriend? You have a girlfriend?"
"Yeah. One that is not Rikku," Keran assured Gippal hurriedly. "Her name's Remi. She was my nurse when I was in the hospital. Turns out she thinks gunshot wounds are sexy. Marks of honor and valor and all that stuff. So, are you gonna go get her or not?"
Gippal considered it for a moment. Keran had proved to him that, while he had resolved to let her go, he would never be able to tolerate the sight of her with another man. His stomach churned and his blood boiled at the thought. He'd have to find some way to win her back. All he had to lose was his pride – and with the way he'd been moping around lately, he had little enough of it left as it was.
And he was a little afraid that, when it came to her, he had no pride at all.
"Yeah." He scrubbed his face with his hands. "Yeah, I'm going."
"Good. I didn't really relish the thought of losing any teeth. I think you might've loosened a couple of 'em already." Keran worked his jaw gingerly.
"Sorry. Go ahead, I'll let you have a free swing at me." Gippal owed Keran that much. After all, he'd taken a bullet for Rikku.
"I'll save it for the next time you piss me off," Keran said. "I like the idea of owing you one. You know, if you give up again, screw letting you hit me. I'll just have to come back here and rough you up a little myself. That would be immensely more satisfying."
"Yeah, I'm sure." Gippal wasn't quite sure what he'd done to deserve a second chance – or at least the hope of one – but definitely wasn't going to waste it. "Don't worry. I've got no intention of giving up again."
xxx
"You're miserable."
"I'm not miserable," she countered immediately. "I'm just…"
"Miserable?" Keran supplied helpfully. She glared.
"Recovering. I had a traumatic experience, you know." It sounded phony even to her.
"I remember," he replied dryly. "I got shot. It'd be hard to forget."
She winced. "I'm so sorry about that. I never wanted you to get hurt." She wrapped her hands around her cup of tea and bent her head, feeling self-centered and churlish. She owed Keran a great deal.
"I know that," he sighed. "But you can't keep sitting around looking like someone stole your puppy. You're so terrified of getting hurt that you're afraid to take a chance on someone who really loves you, and now you're both miserable. Sometimes, if you want to be happy, you've just got to jump in with both feet and give it your all. And it might not work out – but you'll regret it forever if you don't give it a chance. And forever is a really, really long time."
She tried to speak – tried to deny it – but her throat closed off. Tears choked her, and she swallowed them back desperately.
"I've got to…to stir the soup," she managed huskily, pushing back her chair and retreating to the kitchen.
"Coward," he called after her. "You've got to face the music sometime. You can't stay holed up in here forever."
"Watch me," she muttered, scrubbing her face with a dish towel. She was alarmed by the sudden onset of tears. She'd thought that she'd gotten over the crying stage.
"See," Keran remarked thoughtfully. "You're not over him. You're not going to be over him. You can't just will yourself to stop loving someone," he said, sighing. "I wish you wouldn't do this to yourself. You're trying so hard to convince yourself you'll be happy without him, but deep down, I think you know you won't. It's okay to forgive people when they hurt you. It doesn't make you weak. It doesn't mean they'll hurt you again."
She turned her back on him, gripping the countertop desperately, stifling a sob. "I don't…I can't talk about it." She wasn't over him, she knew she wasn't over him. She didn't want to bring the pain to the surface again, not when she'd been doing such a good job of burying it. "Please, Keran. I can't do this."
"Okay," he sighed. "I won't say anything else. I didn't mean to upset you so badly." He set his palm on top of her head, ruffling her hair affectionately, trying to defuse her panic. "Smells good," he said, leaning over the stove to look down into the pot of soup.
Someone knocked on the door, and Rikku jumped in surprise.
"I invited someone over for dinner, if that's okay," Keran said. "Sorry, I forgot to tell you."
"It's fine." She assumed it was Remi, Keran's new girlfriend. "There's plenty to go around. Could you get the door? The soup's almost ready, I'll start dishing it out."
She rummaged through the cabinets for some bowls and a ladle as Keran headed for the door.
Keran opened the door, quietly ushering Gippal into the apartment. "She's in the kitchen," he said softly. "Follow my lead or you could end up wearing hot soup."
Gippal watched Keran approach Rikku, who was bent over the pot of soup, carefully ladling it into the bowls she'd laid out.
"How's it going?" He asked.
"Almost done," she said, picking up two of the bowls and turning towards the kitchen table. "I'll just get the…" Her mouth fell open when she saw Gippal, standing quietly near the table, one hand resting on the back of a chair. Her grip on the bowls relaxed, but Keran slid his hands beneath hers, neatly catching the two bowls before they could slip from her grasp and decorate the kitchen floor.
"I'll take these," he said, setting them carefully on the table. "Don't hate me too much, okay? It's for your own good." He kissed her cheek briefly, earning a glare from Gippal. "I'm gonna get out of the danger zone. Gimme a call sometime, when you're settled."
"Settled?" She queried. "What do you mean, settled?"
Keran only waved, closing the door behind him with a snap.
"He means that you should give him a call when you're fully settled back at Djose," Gippal said softly.
She swallowed hard. "I'm not…I'm not going back to Djose."
"No?" He rounded the table slowly, watching her back away. "You made a promise to me. You said you'd come back to Djose. Do you remember?"
"Xac's dead. No one's trying to kill me anymore. It wasn't necessary to go back to Djose." Her fingers caught the dish towel, wringing it with nervous hands.
"It is necessary." He looked so serious – it wasn't in his nature to be so solemn, and it worried her. "I want you to come back, Rikku."
"Why?" Her back touched the wall, and he kept coming, but she didn't try to move away. She wanted to hear what he had to say. He flattened one palm against the wall by her shoulder, but didn't pin her in, giving her an avenue of escape if she so chose. His fingers touched her shoulder, sliding around to cradle the back of her neck gently.
"I miss you," he said. "When you were at Djose, I was the happiest I've been for a long time. I thought that, if it was what you wanted, I could just let you go and try not to think about you, but I can't. I'm not that strong, Rikku."
His thumb stroked her neck soothingly. Her heart thudded frantically against her chest as she watched him bend towards her. She knew she shouldn't let him kiss her – she'd spent months telling him to keep away, how would it look if she gave in now? But…she wanted that kiss so much.
His lips touched hers, soft and warm and almost hesitant. He made no demands, took no further liberties. But her breath caught and her lips parted under his just the same. He allowed a brief kiss, then drew back slowly.
"I don't want to lose you again. I'll make you happy, Rikku." He kissed her once more, heartened that she didn't pull away, didn't resist his gentle embrace. She was staring at him with a mixture of awe and shock, but there was no anger in her eyes, no doubt, no fear – just a quiet astonishment.
"I'm greedy. I want everything. I want a home and a family." His fingers slid into the hair at the nape of her neck.
"You'll…you could find someone else, I'm sure." The words tasted bitter to her, as sour as a lemon on her tongue.
"I don't want anyone else. I love you." His forehead touched hers and he closed his eye, drawing in an unsteady breath. "You're my family. You'll be my family forever. No matter what, I'll always come for you. I'll always protect you. I'll always love you."
It sounded like it hurt him to say it, like he hurt because he knew he wouldn't be getting the words back. It cost him his pride, but she knew he was speaking from the heart even knowing she'd reject him.
"It's your choice," he said. "But I'm miserable without you, Rikku. You trusted me to keep you safe; trust me with your heart this time. Come back to Djose. Come home. Please." He shouldered away from the wall, moving a few paces away, his expression inscrutable. He rubbed the tense muscles in his neck. "I'll leave. I'm sorry for interrupting your dinner." He paused with one foot out the door, his gaze briefly flickering back towards where she stood, still and quiet, leaning against the wall.
"You know where to find me," he said. "I'm only a commsphere call or a ferry trip away."
And then he was gone, and Rikku was left with two hot bowls of soup and an empty apartment.
Come home, he'd said. God, it sounded so good. And she hadn't had a home in so long. She'd thought she'd conquered the desire to grow roots, for a place that was hers forever, for a place where she would live and raise a family. For someone who belonged to her, someone she could belong to in turn. For Gippal. Apparently she hadn't done as good a job as she'd imagined.
She sat down at the table with a heavy sigh, only to find she wasn't very hungry anymore.
xxx
Short of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her back to Djose – her protests be damned – there was nothing more he could do or say to make his feelings any clearer.
And although Keran had been convinced that she loved him, she didn't seem in too much of a hurry to come after him. He'd been back at Djose for a week and hadn't seen or heard from her. And Rikku wasn't the sort to put anything off. If she wanted to be with him, she would be.
But he wouldn't be so easily dissuaded from planning his next attempt at conquering Rikku's stubborn streak. If he couldn't lure her back into his arms with love alone, he figured persistence would be the key to her heart – maybe he could annoy her into submission. Maybe, if he followed her around with flowers and candy and thoughtful little trinkets, she'd get frustrated and give him a pity date.
He'd been a fool before, allowing himself to be so drawn into his misery that he'd missed the bigger picture – he loved her, but he'd never really given her his whole heart. He'd been too easily discouraged, too prepared for her rejection to try to understand why she'd rejected him, to try to fix the broken parts of their relationship. And it was his responsibility to fix what he'd broken, because even if she loved him, she was too afraid of him to risk her heart again.
But maybe this time, with a lot of patience and consideration, he could convince her that if she took a chance on him he'd never make her regret it.
He'd planned to give her some time to herself – fearing that if he pushed her too far too fast she'd turn tail and run – as well as take some time to work out his plan of attack. He had a feeling that courting Rikku was going to be uncomfortably like a game of chess, and Rikku had always been an excellent strategist. He'd have to have a couple of tricks up his sleeve if he wanted to get anywhere with her.
But then one morning, after an intense brainstorming session with Keran, he convinced himself he'd finally snapped. He woke up to long blonde hair spread across his pillow like spun gold. He touched it hesitantly, sliding his fingers into the cool strands, then to the warm, bare shoulder he glimpsed beneath it. He drew back almost immediately as if the feel of her skin had burned him.
"Oh god." He ran a hand through his hair. "This is it. I've finally lost it."
Then, realizing that maybe being insane had its benefits, he slid his palm beneath the covers to discover if his insanity had managed to conjure up any more warm, naked skin. His fingers slid over her flat stomach, up her rib cage, curving over the smooth, firm swell of her breast.
She batted his hand away. "I'm trying to sleep," she mumbled, turning her face into the pillow. He jerked back, shocked. Did insanity-induced visions talk back? He had to find out. He reached out and shook her awake.
"Would you cut that out?" She complained, glaring up at him as he dragged her out of sleep.
"Are you real?"
"What?" She scowled. "What are you talking about?"
"Are you real? Are you really here? Is this a dream?" He shook her a little, looking positively panicked. She decided to assuage his fears, regardless of how rudely he'd awoken her.
"Yeah, I'm real. What sort of a question is that?"
He collapsed beside her, his breath whooshing out on a sigh. "Thank god," he said. "I thought I was going crazy." When he'd recovered sufficiently, he looked at her curiously again. "What are you doing here, anyway?" Most especially naked, and in his bed.
"I'm moving in." The stubborn set of her jaw dared him to argue with her.
"You're…moving in?" It didn't make sense.
"We're married, aren't we?" She tugged the covers up a little higher, raking her nails across the fabric rhythmically. "Married people usually live together."
"Are we married, then?" He still didn't understand. "I seem to remember you destroyed our marriage certificate." He leaned over her, tugging her lower lip out from between her teeth, afraid she might actually draw blood with how hard she was worrying it.
She winced. "I shouldn't have done that," she said. "I'm sorry. I know it hurt you."
His fingers slid lightly over her cheek, down her throat, caressed her shoulder. "It's okay," he said. "I understood why you did it." He slid an arm beneath her shoulders, resting his forehead against hers.
"The truth is, I was afraid," she said. "I told myself you didn't matter, that I didn't need or want any of the things you could give me, but it was a lie. I did need them, I did want them, but I was afraid of them. I thought it would be easier if I never had them, because one day I might have to give them up. Most everything I've ever loved hasn't lasted. My sudran. Home. You. I didn't want it to happen all over again." She tried to blink back her tears, but a few escaped anyway. He brushed them away gently.
"I love you," she said. "I'm sorry I let you think I didn't. And I'm sorry I hurt you. I hurt both of us and wasted a lot of time. We can – if you want to, I mean – get married again."
It was what he'd been waiting to hear, what he'd been working towards for so many months. Something inside him that had been anxious and tense and hurting for so long finally relaxed, at peace at last. If she'd made her choice freely – if she'd come to Djose with no further urging from him, then she wasn't likely to change her mind. They could afford to take their time and rediscover their relationship. He could give her the wedding celebration she deserved, the one she'd been denied before.
"Not right away," he said. "But soon. We should take some time to plan it out. Do it right. You didn't get a big, fancy wedding the first time. This time should be different. Yuna can help, right? She seems like she'd know a lot about that sort of stuff."
"Yeah, she does." She smiled. "I think she'd like that. I think I'd like that."
"I'm glad," he said. "I'm glad you came back. I would've spent as long as necessary to convince you to come back, but I'm glad you came back on your own. I swear I'll make you happy, Rikku."
"You already do." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get everything figured out."
There was a brief knock on the door just seconds before it flew open and a harried-looking worker burst in. But with the sheet up to her chin, Gippal wasn't particularly worried about the intruder getting an eyeful of his wife.
"Hey, boss, a bunch of junk got – oh, um. Sorry. I didn't know you had company." Blushing, the man did a quick about-face.
"It's just Rikku, Danto," Gippal said. "She'll be moving back in, so you might want to get used to knocking and actually waiting for someone to answer."
"Right." Danto cleared his throat and averted his eyes, obviously uncomfortable. "Well, at least that explains all the junk in the lobby."
"Junk!" Rikku gasped, affronted. "That's my stuff. It's not junk."
Danto looked unconvinced. "Well, it's all stacked in the lobby. Man, there's a lot of it. You want to start construction on a new wing, boss?"
"There's that much of it?" Gippal asked incredulously.
"Well, yeah," Rikku said. "Why do you think it took me so long to get here? I had to pack up everything I own and get rid of my apartment."
So she truly had put all her faith in him, Gippal realized. She'd uprooted herself to come to him.
"We'll draw up some blueprints today," he said. "I have a feeling we'll need the extra space once we get around to having a couple of kids."
Rikku pursed her lips. "I'll get rid of some stuff," she said. "There's no need to go rebuilding your home just so I can fit all of my stuff in. It's not a big deal, really. I don't mind."
"Our home, Rikku," he said. "It's our home. Your junk belongs here just as much as my stuff does."
"How come my stuff is junk and your junk is stuff?" Rikku grumbled.
"I'll just head on out to the workshop, then, and let some of the men know we'll need to start ordering supplies for the addition," Danto said, unnerved by the open affection between Gippal and Rikku. He clearly had no desire to stick around and witness any potential loving scenes. "I'll, uh, send one of the girls up with breakfast in about thirty minutes, if that's good. Welcome home, Rikku."
"Thanks." Rikku closed her eyes, trying – and failing – to stifle a silly grin. It had been a long time since she'd been so happy, so carefree. It had taken that little greeting to realize that it was more than a home-coming, it was a Home-coming. Because Home wasn't a place you built with steel or rock walls, Home was the people you shared that home with, the people you shared your life with. And Gippal always had been and always would be her Home.
"What's up? You're grinning like an idiot." Gippal realized it was somewhat hypocritical of him to say it; he was pretty sure he looked just as ridiculously elated as she did.
"Nothing. Nothing." She brushed a kiss along his cheek, breathing in the faint scent of soap that still clung to his skin from last night's shower. "It's just so good to be Home."