Felix woke up. That meant that he was at least alive. His head was swimming, and the left side of his body felt like it was on fire. He was shirtless, of that Felix was certain. Being shirtless meant that his gear was gone. Felix slowly opened his eyes. The room was devoid of life, but full of strange trinkets. Jars and pots of unknown items lined the shelves around the circular space. The dwelling was some kind of tent, made out of a greenish-blue fabric with a brown ceiling. His hand shot down only to slap against his thigh. He bolted upright and looked frantically for his sidearm. Felix's eyes came to rest on the dirty green heap in the middle of the floor. He stood up, being careful to stay as quiet as he could. His muddy boots and torn shirt were in the pile, as well as most of his first line gear. The holster on his padded pistol belt, though, was empty. Damn.

The flap at the front of the tent rustled. Shit!

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed. "How are you feeling?" She didn't look all that old; mid twenties, at the most. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, with three whip-like braids hanging from the back.

He froze, like a kid with his hand stuck in the cookie jar, unsure how to respond. He felt keenly vulnerable without his pistol. "Where," he asked, "am I?"

She folded her arms across her large breasts, a frown bent her violet-colored lips downward. "You don't remember?"

He relaxed slightly. Maybe the Red Cross had gone lax with their dress code. Yeah. And started hiring based on rack size. "Last thing I remember was Brazil."

"What?" Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed at Felix.

Felix tensed again. So he wasn't in Brazil. And she wasn't Red Cross. "I want to know where I am," he demanded. "And where my gear is. Now."

The lacquered nail on one finger pointed to the equipment at his feet. "That's all you had when we found you."

"Found?"

"Yes," she said, the suspicion in her voice becoming evident. "Wakka brought you in from the surf Or have you 'forgotten' that, as well?"

"Surf?" There's no goddamn surf in the mountains. What the hell is going on?

Her black dress fluttered for a moment in the breeze wafting into the tent. "Maybe you hurt your head in a fall," she conceded, either attempting to persuade Felix or herself that he had not simply washed ashore in a strange world for no apparent reason. "I'm sure your memory will return within a day or two."

"Goddammit," he snarled, "I'm fine! There were five guys with me in Brazil when some gi-fucking-normous bird attacked us. Where are they?"

"I already told you, you were alone." She crossed her arms again and squared herself off to Felix. "So you're not from Spira. You just wound up here, is that it?"

"Did I fuckin' stutter?"

"Right," she said, irritably. "Maybe some sleep will help your head." She turned to leave, but Felix called after her.

"Wait, goddammit. Where the hell am I?"

She glared at him. "You'll remember tomorrow," she said.

He followed her out of the tent and into the sunlight. They were in a village of some sort, made up of half a dozen tents that looked exactly like the one he exited. Little children ran in and out of the foliage surrounding the village, chasing a small brown dog. The woman with black hair was walking directly towards a large, angular concrete structure. On a hunch, he followed her through the large wooden doors and into a… Church?

Looks like St. Mary's. The room was ringed with statues on risers of varying heights. Some of the statues were large, some were smaller, and all of them had some form of kowtowing acolyte before them. A large stairway at the back of the room led upward to an elegantly decorated door, made either of tarnished brass or aged wood. Or possibly both. When he was done ogling the aesthetics of the temple, Felix realized that the armor-clad men clustered in a tight knot at the foot of one of the statues were all staring directly at him. They look like goddamn knights. In Felix's experience, there were only two kinds of people who never failed to connect with each other: combat men and bureaucrats. The men didn't look like bureaucrats.

"Hey, can one of you guys tell me where—"

They turned, faces red either from the heat or from fervent discussion. "We're Crusaders, man! Show some respect!"

Felix didn't appreciate being addressed like a disobedient schoolboy, especially not from a bleached-blonde Prima Donna with a stick up his ass. "Earn it before you demand it, asshole."

The sonuvabitch narrowed his blue eyes at Felix, the expression nearly hidden behind his bleached bangs. "What did you just tell me?"

"You want my respect? Earn it. Otherwise, go fuck yourself."

"Heathens aren't allowed in the temples. I'm afraid you'll have to come with me."

Felix balled his hands into fists. "Try it," he demanded.

Someone grabbed his shoulder from behind. "Gatta, that's enough. He's confused."

He turned around, only to find the voice belonged to a young woman who looked about twenty. Her shoulder-length light brown hair was neatly trimmed, and parted down the middle. "I'm sorry, sir, but we're going to have to ask you to watch your language in the temple. Confusion is no excuse for profanity. Also, I'm afraid that your markings could be offensive to some." Her soft voice carried undertones of both authority and sadness.

"So you're in charge here?"

She smiled, the corners of her small mouth lifted towards cheeks reddened by the heat. "In a sense."

"So you can tell me where the fu— Er, where I am, right?"

She nodded. "Of course. You are on the island of Besaid."

"The 'welcoming committee' out there said I was in 'Spira'," Felix said, pointing to the door.

She nodded, and the beads decorating a long earring rattled against each other. "Yes… Besaid is an island just South of the mainland of Spira."

I've dealt with weird before, but this shit deserves its own category of crazy. "Whatever you say."

"I'd like to apologize for Lulu, if she was terse with you. She's been under quite a bit of stress, lately. We all have."

He shrugged. "I've had worse."

She clasped her hands together, wide white sleeves flowing gracefully along with her motion. "I'm sorry, but I seem to have forgotten your name."

"That's because I haven't told you yet," Felix responded. What he needed was a damn cigarette. Or a cold beer. Hell, why not both?

"Well," she said, "I would... certainly appreciate knowing whose life I saved."

"I would certainly appreciate knowing who saved my life," he echoed.

"My name is Yuna," she said, smiling. "And yours?"

"Felix."

"Okay, Felix. I trust you found your room to your liking?"

"I'd've liked it better if the rest of my gear had been there."

She tilted her head to the side slightly. "We put everything we found you with on the floor."

Of course you did. "That's what – Lulu, you called her? – said. But I had more than that on me."

Yuna nodded. "I'm sorry if something is missing, but I'm sure that we can replace it in Luca."

"Where?"

She waved the question away. "That can come later. Right now, we need to make sure you're okay."

"I feel fine."

Yuna tapped two slender fingers to her temple.

"Oh. Yeah, maybe that's all that happened," he lied, trying both to sound somewhat civil and to convince himself that he was delirious.

"Perhaps. Are you hungry?"

His stomach rumbled. Felix hadn't noticed before, but now that it was mentioned, he could definitely use something to eat. When's the last time I've been hungry in a dream? "Yeah."

A long pleated skirt flowed around high-heeled boots as she walked to the door. "Wakka had some fish from earlier today. Maybe we can get you some."

He trudged back into the village, following in the heeled footsteps of the young woman who called herself Yuna, wondering how in the hell he ended up on this island. They passed through the rows of tents and into a dense jungle. Thin paths of beaten down foliage wound their way through a maze of palm fronds and vines. He pushed a large branch away from his naked chest. "Damn," he yelled, "how far off is the beach?"

"Not too far," Yuna called over her shoulder. "Just a little farther."

The path was well worn, with ruts on either side indicating where some kind of primitive cart had worn away the loamy soil. Small lizards skittered about in the undergrowth, darting around the fallen branches before skittering off into the grass. His combat boots were holding up well, but he couldn't imagine how Yuna was getting along so well in her heels. As they neared a crossroads in the midst of the jungle, Felix noticed a large staircase climbing upwards to a platform of some sort. Overgrown vines crisscrossed the worn rocks that bore mute testimony to the forces of the passage of time and of the unforgiving jungle upon the structure. He stopped at the base of the stairs, the bottom step nearly covered by soil and fallen leaves. "Yuna?"

"Yes?"

Felix held his hand sideways, jabbing his thumb in the air at the staircase. "Where's this lead to?"

She faltered a moment. "Old memories," she said at last, "which should be left in peace." The look of pain left her reddened face with the same rapidity that brought it. "We're almost to the beach."

A question formed itself on the end of his tongue before being shoved aside. Some things were better left unasked. A persistent rustling in the trees from behind gave Felix reason to check over his shoulder frequently, and also to begin wishing he had his rifle. He heard Yuna's voice calling to him from just out of eyesight. "The beach is just down this road. I hope you aren't getting tired," she teased.

Felix ducked under another palm frond. The air, which, up to now, had been perfumed strictly with chlorophyll now had its leafy scent superseded by a salty breeze which had to have been inbound from the ocean. After another low-hanging clump of vines, the bright sunlight cast stark shadows that reached out from the bases of numerous huts. Boats floated idly in the water, surf lapping at their painted wooden sides. The soft, white sand displaced under his booted feet, his footfalls leaving irregular craters in the beach.

Yuna was far ahead of him now, but Felix noticed that she was finally having some locomotive trouble. Her heels sank into the sand with each step, forcing her to lean forward to an almost comical degree. He was about to start laughing when a voice yelled out from one of the huts.

"Hey, it's Yuna! Thought they wanted you in Bevelle today, ya? Change their minds?"

Her soft-voiced reply was impossible to discern.

"Oh, makes sense. So he's up now, ya?" The man's voice – Felix decided that the speaker was a man, unless women in Spira were unusually masculine – was heavily accented.

Yuna responded again; the only word drifting up the beach with enough volume to be audible was 'confused'.

The voice whistled. "Just like that, eh?"

Yuna beckoned to him. "Come on!"

The little hut had only three walls; the ocean-facing entryway was wide open, the only visible means of closing it off was a split green curtain that was secured to the wood on either side of the hut. The man crouched at the table was drenched in seawater, but his red hair was still impeccably styled into a single large spike.

"Hey, brudda! How you feelin'? Heard you had a nasty fall, ya?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. Yuna said you had some fish?"

The man – Wakka, I think she called him – rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah… I was a little hungrier than I thought after practice. Sorry, brudda."

Felix shrugged. A day without food wasn't anything to bitch about. Speaking of which… "Yuna? How long was I asleep?"

Wakka chuckled. "'Sleep' isn't the word I'd use. 'Unconcious', that's more like it, brudda."

Yuna forced back a laugh of her own. "About a week."

Shit. Maybe this was something to bitch about. He reached up to scratch what he figured had to be at least a quarter inch of hair on his chin. "Anyone got a razor?"

Wakka shook his head.

"How 'bout a mirror?"

"Yeah, there's one back in your room in the village."

Felix sighed. I'm not climbing back through that fuckin' jungle again, not even in a dream. "The hell with it. I'll shave tomorrow."

"So, brudda, you remember anything?"

"Unh-uh. I blacked out after—" He stopped. "I don't remember shit."

"Hey, brudda… It's not polite to talk like that in front of the lady, ya?"

He shrugged again. "Oops."

Yuna shot a sidelong glance at Wakka and shook her head. "I don't mind."

Wakka spoke up again. "One more thing… Those markings? They're not common around here. You mind telling us where you got 'em?"

"Yes," he replied. The lack of a cigarette sawed at Felix's already strained last nerve.

Wakka seemed surprised. "Oh." He regained his composure quickly. "S'okay, brudda. Everyone's got their little secrets, ya?" He winked at Felix.

"Yeah, you could say that." Felix rubbed a sore muscle in his forearm. "You know where a guy can get a smoke?"

Yuna flinched. "You mean a cigarette?"

"Yeah. I need one right about now."

"You smoke?"

"If I didn't," he said, exasperatedly, "I wouldn't need one."

She reddened slightly. "That would make sense. I'm sorry, Felix, but the closest place with cigarettes is Luca." Yuna drummed her fingers against at supporting pole. "We can get you some there," she added, sitting herself gently down onto a small barrel near the table.

"That's the second time you've mentioned Luca," Felix contemplated, scratching his beard again. "Mind telling me why it's so important?"

"There's gonna be a big Blitzball tournament there in a few days," Wakka explained, "and there's gonna be people from all over Spira there to watch."

Yuna nodded. "Blitzball is Spira's only sport," she said, continuing Wakka's frustratingly unspecific explanation. "It's played in a giant sphere of water."

Felix cocked an eyebrow up.

"We'll show you when we get there."

Yeah, if I don't wake up back in San Paulo with a senorita in one hand and a margarita in the other. "Sounds good." He pulled a crate over and sat down. "I've got a few questions first."

Wakka leaned back, reclining against the back of his wicker chair. "Shoot, brudda."

"What happened to my leg?"

Yuna spun the jeweled ring she wore on her middle finger with her thumb. "The cut was very deep, and one of the bones was fractured. I healed you, and Lulu sewed your pants back together."

He glanced down, and noticed the black thread crisscrossing down one of the legs. "Huh. Thanks. You said you 'healed' me?"

She nodded again. "Yes. Your wound was very severe; it required lots of energy to heal."

"Energy."

"Yes."

"That can heal people." Felix wasn't skeptical. He was just becoming increasingly certain that he shouldn't have missed that last company-provided C.A.T. scan.

"Yes, exactly. The art of White Magic."

Felix burst into laughter. Now he was sure he was going crazy. Magic? What kind of backwater was this? Did someone put some fuckin' LSD in my Coors?

Wakka frowned. "I don't see what's so funny, brudda."

"Magic… You people have got to be shitting me," Felix laughed. "It doesn't exist."

Yuna smiled. "Believe in it or not, it's there."

"Yeah. Right." He turned to Wakka. "So you're a fisherman?" At least one profession here makes an iota of sense.

Wakka grinned. "I guess you could say that. I retired from blitzball two years ago, so I could be Yuna's full-time guardian, you know? Anyway, there isn't much need for guardians anymore. So I've settled down a bit."

Shit. Or not. "Wife?" He asked, lazily.

Wakka nodded. "Me and Lu married right after— A few years ago."

Cut himself off. Hmm. "Kids?"

"Lil' Riko looks just like his mom."

"That's always the way, isn't it."

"You married?"

Felix spat onto the sand. "I was."

"Oh."

"Don't sweat it. If I'm not crazy," he mused, "then none of that matters."

Yuna spun the ring around on her finger again.

Wakka changed the subject. "Okay, brudda. So do you mind if we ask you what you do?"

"Can that wait 'till I'm not ready to tear someone's head off?"

The ring began spinning again. Damn, but she's nervous.

"Not literally," he said, his whiskers scratching his face as he smiled, "it's just an expression. It means I really need a damn cigarette right now."

"Well, that'll have to wait until we get to Luca, brudda. There's no tobacco in Besaid."

Felix groaned. "When's the boat leave?"

"Not till tomorrow, brudda. You oughta get some rest. You can sleep here; I've got a spare hammock."

"Thanks," Felix said, rubbing his whiskers. He didn't want to shave: he needed to shave.

"We'll wake you up in the morning," Yuna assured him.

Yeah, of course. The doc'll wake me up before that to give me my meds. "Sounds good."

A/N: Okay, second chapter. Sorry for the long wait; my beta took a little while to get back to me. Updates should follow, for the most part, a schedule of one chapter every one and a half to two weeks. That, of course, excludes very long chapters, or me having an ungodly amount of work to do outside of Thanks to all you guys who kept reading, even though I didn't update for an unholy length of time. Also, a big thanks to reviewers and readers who have left constructive criticism. Y ou can never get better without having your mistakes pointed out.