The Timekeeper

It's been over a week since Vik and his clan had started governmental work and they all agreed; they'd rather be in school. When they weren't on missions, they were required to wear the company uniforms: a black blazer and Chino pants over a white shirt. The organization's insignia, a 6-winged angel, was sewn on both arms. The uniforms were exactly the same in every way, bearing no specific markings or detail. Unlike the air force, there was no way to differentiate high ranked officials. Fortunately, this wasn't much of a problem for the teens. Olivander had made it quite clear that support clans were bottom-dwellers, the lowest rung on the government's position hierarchy. Because of this, the six of them had to address every other agent as 'sir' or 'madam'.

Their assignments mostly consisted of assistant work. Every time a odd job presented itself, a clan member was chosen to do it. They were never kept in the same place for too long, since there was so much to be done. If the scholars needed something from the archives, Yolando spent 2 hours rummaging through rows upon rows of shelves searching for the proper scrolls. When the chemists needed someone to test out their new potions, Kili ended up hooked up to a machine that administered doses of the experimental substances as they monitored his heart rate. Even when the secretary needed her reports mailed, they sat Vik in front of a mountain of papers and ordered him to start licking envelopes. In short, it was grueling work. So when Captain Nicholas offered them the next day off, Vik could hardly believe his words. "Take the day off? What kind of thing is that to ask? Of course we'd like to take the day off!" He exclaimed.

Despite the obviously good news, some of the members remained doubtful. "Why the sssudden change of heart?" Yolando inquired when the others members finally calmed down. "Weren't you just sssaying yesterday that we were way behind in our work?"

"Well, we've been putting you through so much labor lately I thought I ought to give you guys a break. Besides, missing a single day won't put you that far back. So what do you say? Are you going to take my offer or not?"

"Well of course we're taking it!" Elena declared while everybody else nodded in agreement.

"Great! I'll go mark you guys on the shift charge for 10 PM tomorrow." The captain said, already walking towards the door.

The teens shot confused glances at his back, but he failed to notice them. "Midnight shift, kupo? I thought you said we didn't have to come to work tomorrow!" Kili called after him.

"No, I said you could take the day off," The captain responded without even throwing them a glance as he stepped out into the hall. "Which, in my book, means you're coming to work at night. Get a good sleep tonight, I want to see you on the 10 PM elevator looking alive."

"Slave driver." The moogle muttered as soon as Nicholas's back disappeared from the room.

---

For the first time in the summer, Vik finally got the proper amount of sleep and got up the next morning feeling refreshed. However, it wasn't morning. It was 2 PM. And he only woke up because something hard and cold was pressing against his forehead. "Try not to move around so much." A voice at his right said. "You'll spill my drink." With more difficulty then usual, given the fact that a glass of grape juice was pressing against his brain, Vik creaked an eye open and saw that Saria was sitting in the chair next to his bed.

Cautiously, he reached up and grabbed the glass off his head before sitting up. "You know, there's a reason tables were invented." He grumbled sleepily.

"True, but I wanted to put my drink on something that I was sure wasn't going to budge." Saria returned without looking up from her book.

"Well guess what? The jokes on you!" Vik lifted the glass to his mouth and downed the contents of the glass.

Saria snapped the book shut and gave Vik a playful whack on the head. "Meanie!"

"Serves you right for waking me up!" He responded as he walked to his closet.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Because you usually don't bother changing out of your pajamas unless you're going out." She answered simply. "So where are you going?"

"Um..." There was a lot of things to consider now that this question was asked. In truth, he and the rest of the guys in the clan had agreed to head down to Newport Estates to visit the clock shop the watch came from. He was intentionally aiming for when it was made and who bought it but, with some luck, he could maybe find who the woman in the picture was. However, Vik found it in his best interest to lie. "I'm just going to Kili's house." He said as he pulled a shirt over his head.

Though it was highly unusual for Vik to pass up a day off, Saria decided not to look any deeper. "Just don't stay out too late." She said, turning back to the book when Vik beckoned for her to look away. "We're going out to eat tonight. It's your parent's anniversary."

"Of course. How could I forget?" He said with a nervous laugh.

The girl frowned. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Yeah." He answered as he finished pulling up his pants. "I'll pick something up for them on the way back."

"Yeah, you do that. And try not to get something too cheap. The person that first said 'it's the thought that counts' obviously didn't have very high expectations."

Vik was a bit surprised when he heard these words. They had a certain air to them; a distinct attitude and personality. It was a feeling all too familiar to him. "You know..." He began, smiling elfishly at the girl, "You're beginning to sound like me."

"My god, you're right! Call the judgemaster! This could very well be the end of the world!" She responded with sarcastic alarm. Vik gave her a light laugh.

"Just try not to learn too much from my example. I'm not exactly role model material." He said, patting her head. "But then again, it might be nice to finally talk with someone who gets my view of life."

Saria moved the book slightly downwards, just enough for Vik to get a good view of her eyes, which were glaring at him with intense loathing. "I'd sooner die." She pronounced. She was kidding, of course, but the look on her face was dead serious.

"What a pity." He commented, grabbing his now-empty backpack from a chair as he made his way towards the door. And when he was absolutely certain Saria wasn't looking, he quickly grabbed the rusty pocket-watch off his desk and shoved it into his bag.

---

Vik was a bit confused when he arrived at Mosely's house. He was familiar with the street it was on, seeing that he passed it almost every day as he went to school. Identical one-story houses were lined up side by side along the block. A few bore well-tended front lawns and gardens. A few houses, including Mosely's, had porches. A narrow alley-way separated each house, each exactly as wide as the one next to it. It was one of those streets that you could just walk right past without stopping to admire scenery. There was nothing special about it, which struck Vik as a little odd. He walked up to the doorstep and rang the bell. About a minute of silence followed before a series of heavy footsteps rang out from inside. Slowly, the front door cracked open to the face of a middle-aged Bangaa. He was a full two heads taller than Vik with brownish-red skin. A small pair of reading glasses balanced themselves over a pair of yellow, slitted eyes. His face bore a tired expression and evidence of stress made themselves noticeable through the many wrinkles on his forehead. "You better not be ssselling sssomething." He grumbled as he opened the door all the way. Even so, his towering figure prevent Vik from getting inside.

"I'm not!" He answered quickly, finding himself taking a few steps back. "I think I have the wrong address. Can you tell me where the Lionheart residence is?"

"You're ssstanding in front of it." The bangaa hissed, studying Vik's expression. He saw the meaning behind it and decided to respond to what the boy was too polite to say. "Let me guesss." He began, smiling through the side of his mouth. "You were expecting a castle with a big moat around it and a drawbridge. Or perhapsss a red-brick mansion with heavy oak doorsss and gold plated windowsss. I bet you were sssurprised when the owner of the house answered the door instead of a sssmartly dressed butler with a funny accent. Well? Am I right?"

"No! I mean...it's just..." Vik's apology was cut off when the Bangaa suddenly started laughing.

"Sssave it, kid. I was just teasing." He said, whacking Vik in the back and knocking the air out of his lungs. "Don't worry about it, I'm used to it. I get it from everyone. Tax collectorsss, censusss takers, even from mailmen. They just can't believe that one of the most powerful familiesss in Ivalice is living in a middle-class sssuburb."

"If you don't mind me asking," Vik rejoined after catching his breath. "But why are you living here? You just said so yourself, you belong somewhere else."

"Becaussse it's the best place we can afford." The bangaa said with a hint of shame. "The generationsss before usss lived every sssecond of their livesss in grandeur. They sssquandered our family'sss resourcesss and left usss with nothing but debtsss." He took deep breath and massaged his eyelids, being very careful not to knock over his glasses. "You should have seen us a hundred years ago. We were fair, just, and loyal; everything a blueblood should have been. But that's all gone now. Today, it's a never ending dogfight with only one rule: do anything necessary to get to the top."

Vik had no idea how to respond but the situation seemed to call for a "I'm really sorry." He said it quickly and quietly, which is something you do when you're not sure if you want to be heard. If the person you're talking to hears it, they'll know you care. But if they hear it and take it as an offense, you can always pretend you never said anything. However, in this situation, the first example was the case.

"Don't be. I've learned to except it. Sure, it's ruining my life now but if I continue working to find a sssolution, maybe my grandchildren won't be born into this horrible nightmare." He responded with a somewhat hopeful smile before turning back to Vik and putting on his best welcome face. "You're here to see Mosely, aren't you? Well, I believe I've kept you waiting for long enough already. Ssstay right here, I'll go get 'im."

And with that, the door closed just to open again a few minutes later, allowing Mosely to step out into the sun. "Hey Vik." He said as he grabbed a pair of sneakers from a shelf by the door. "Sorry if my dad freaked you out. He's not exactly a people-person."

"That bangaa was your dad?" Vik said with mild surprise. Nowadays, inter-racial marriages weren't forbidden, just uncommon. Only a few people from each race have dared to venture out of their own species and even fewer actually get married. Except for Vierras, who, due to a shortage of males, were forced to find male partners from the other 4 groups. Still, half-breeds were treated no differently from everyone else. They just try not to mention it to anyone, since a few people were still desperately clinging on to the past.

"Yeah. He's really a nice guy once you get to know him. It took a few years for my mom to stop hating him." He quickly laced up his shoes and headed down the front steps, waving for Vik to follow.

Vik waited until they had walked a couple blocks before starting up the conversation again. "Your dad...he seemed a bit stressed." He said, avoiding eye contact with Mosely by focusing on the can he was kicking. "What happened to him?"

"He's still trying to pay off the debts left by his grandfather." Mosely replied. "Over 3 million gil worth in taxes and loan repayments are still owed to the government. Men have been arriving at our door recently demanding a payment in full and every time, my father has to push back the deadlines. And just a few weeks ago, the company he worked for went bankrupt and he's been unemployed ever since. He's been to 20 job interviews already and got turned down every time."

"So that's why you wanted to stay in the clan!" Vik discerned. "I always thought your parents forced you to continue, like Elena's and Yolando's did."

"Actually, it's quite the opposite." Mosely said, laughing a bit. "My dad went ballistic when I told him I found a job. He went on and on about how he was the man of the house and he should be the one supporting our family. Then his ego took another blow when my mom announced she was going to work in a grocery store. He thinks we believe he won't find another job since we went and got our own so he's looking harder than ever now."

"At least he maintained his sense of pride through all these years." Vik remarked.

"And we all admire him for that." Mosely added. "But the truth is, we've become the laughing stock among nobles. They've already cut off preceding family ties set up by decades of inter-house marriages. Our reputation has been thrown to the ground, trampled, and now serves as bedding for pigs."

Vik laughed but immediately shut his mouth when Mosely shot him an angry glare. "Oh, you're not kidding..." He mumbled before starting a string of apologies.

"It's alright. I might have gone a bit too far with that analogy. I'd expect anyone to laugh." Mosely said, brightening up a bit. "But no matter how I say it, the point is that my family has definitely seen better days. We've sunk to the bottom ranks of society and the only thing we have left is the blood of a past judgemaster. It's a wonder why Elena still talks to me. Her family's still in power."

"Well...if you ask me," Vik said, smiling his elfish smile. "I think she likes you." Mosely chose to respond physically. A swift kick to the shins told Vik never to say that again.

---

The bus arrived at Yolando's stop about 20 minutes after Vik and Mosely got on. From there, it continued on to Newport Estates. However, they realized upon arrival that the name was an empty promise. The town was a small, rundown suburb nowhere near a lake or ocean. There were no houses, only apartments and motels. Most of them were in poor condition. Broken windows, chipped paint, a few of them even had missing doors. The display windows of shops were barricaded by triangular-plated bars, probably used to stop hurled bricks. "Keep you handsss in your pocketsss." Yolando advised as they made their way up the stairs of Kili's building, eying the groups of people around them. "Thisss place is crawling with vermin just waiting to sssnatch up our walletsss."

"I could see why you think that." Mosely added. "Just look at this place! An insurance company wouldn't touch this town with a ten-foot pole."

"Drop it, guys." Vik growled angrily. "I know this place is a dump but you have to remember, Kili lives here...well, only during the weekends but that's besides the point."

"We all know that and we mean him no offense." Mosely responded.

"You shouldn't pass judgment on someone just by looking at their home or neighborhood." Vik continued, throwing an annoyed look at Mosely. "Of all people, I thought you would be the one who understands, seeing that your family lives under the same circumstances."

"We didn't sssay anything!" Yolando protested loudly.

"You were about to." Defeated, the two teens fell silent right after they apologized. When the finally reached the fourth floor, the turned left and knocked on the door marked 7B. After twelve more knocks, eleven raps, eight pounds, and three impatient kicks, the door finally cracked open. A safety chain prevented the door from being opened more than a few inches. It took a few seconds for the sleepy-eyed Kili to realize who it was but when he did,'t he closed the door back up and removed the lock. His uncombed hair and the fact that he was still in his pajamas told them he had just woken up. "Kupo? What are you doing here?" The moogle yawned.

"You were going to take usss to that clock shop, remember?"
"I remember. I just wasn't expecting you this early. Especially you, Vik." He responded as he turned around and started walking towards the center of the room. "You can come in if you want. Make yourselves at home, just don't break anything." He said as he grabbed some clothes from a duffel bag by the couch before head towards the bathroom.

The condition of this apartment made Vik's room look like a 5-star hotel. The floor of the living room was littered with old soda cans, beer bottles, and pizza boxes. In the corner, a large stack of newspapers and magazines were pushed into a heap, appearing to serve no purpose at all. Against the far wall was a television several decades out of date with a cracked screen and missing antennae. A pillow and a set of dirty sheets composed themselves into a makeshift bed on the couch. And to top it all off, the entire apartment smelled like cats. "Well, there are like a hundred Ramen packs in the cupboards." Mosely announced when he emerged from the kitchen with a six-pack of cola and a bag of chips. "At least the little guy isn't starving. Unfortunately, neither are the rats."

"Kupo! If there's one thing this place is missing, it's a woman's touch." Kili said as he stepped out of the bathroom in a T-shirt and jeans. "Only problem is, they all run screaming from the building every time we open the front door."

"You ever tried cleaning this place up?" Vik asked. Even he was a little surprised with his words.

"Countless times, kupo." Kili grumbled, flopping down on the couch and grabbing a soda from Mosely. "Somehow, it always manages to mess itself back up again. And I can't do a thing about the smell."

"I can't sssee how anyone can live in a place like thisss." Yolando remarked as he tested the dials on the TV. A spark from the glass sent him jumping back while a small cloud of smoke squeezed itself through the cracks. "It'ss a wonder how you can sssurvive three days. But it'sss a miracle how your dad can sssleep here every night!"

"Well, he's hardly ever here. The place he works at demands for long hours but offers little pay. But my dad still works there. He says the hard work helps him forget about..." He waved his hand at the room, "this." The last few words pretty much summed up the whole of his father's life.

A long period of silence followed, broken only by loud sips of cola. Finally, Vik asked the question that was on everyone's minds. "Do you like being here?"

"I can't say for sure, kupo." Kili answered, crushing his empty can. "The house is a whole lot more comfortable at my Mom's place but living with them is a pain. My dad, on the other hand is pretty fun to be around. Kupo, I'm not even embarrassed to be seen in public with him. At least when he's sober." He took a deep breath and threw the can at the smoking TV, half expecting it to turn on. It didn't. "He's a great guy but his life is a mess." He continued. "He used to be a monster tracker but ever since the clan wars died, he had to find work elsewhere. The divorce did a number on him too. He just never got his priorities straight."

"Kupo! I think I've bored you with enough of my life already." The moogle said, brightening up after yet another period of silence. "I think I'm gonna save the rest of my problems for when I'm forty and seeking psychiatric help. So are you guys coming or what?" The sudden transition between moods worried the three teens but they decided not to get involved. When it came to family problems, it would be best to leave that person alone; to deal with the situation by themselves. It was what any of them would have wanted if they were in Kili's shoes. "Yeah, we wasted enough time already." Vik replied.

---

"Well guys, here it is. The Robert & Sons Clock Shop." Kili said, waving at the store in front of them. His announcement wasn't really necessary, since there was no way anyone could have missed this building. It stood between two empty lots, both covered with rubble from demolished buildings. The outside of the store was decorated with giant, interlocking ceramic gears of various sizes arranged to look like the inner workings of a clock. There were no windows and the only form of entry was the old, rotting wooden door.

"They sure chose an interesting place to build it." Mosely commented as he studied the barren lots that ran all the way to the end of the block.

"Shops used to take up this entire street but they were torn down so more apartment buildings could be put up." Kili explained, "In the end, R&S co. was the only shop that came up with enough money to drive away the bulldozers from their property. The three restaurants and the jeweler on this street combined couldn't raise that much money."

"I guess people in this neighborhood like clocks more than diamonds and food." Vik remarked as he walked up to the door and knocked against it. After a minute, there was still no answer so Vik tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it turned easily. Too easily. As the four of them filed inside, Vik inspected the handle. The side of the handle had been taken off and the bolts were removed. There was no evidence of a security system or lock latches, meaning this place was completely unprotected from burglary.

The inside of the store was probably even stranger than its exterior. The rooms were dark, seeing that the only light sources were the open doorway. Hundreds of clocks were displayed on shelves and tables, eerily ticking along in uneven rhythms. A selection of pocket-watches sat in a display case near the door. The light stopped about a 7 feet in so the back of the room was completely hidden. "Looksss like nobody'sss home." Yolando said as he felt the walls for a light switch.

"No, they're probably just in the back, kupo. No shopkeeper would leave his store unlocked when he steps out." Kili pointed out. "We just need to get him out here." Kili took a deep breath, cupped his hands over his mouth, and turned to face the back of the room. "Hey! Shopkeeper!" The moogle shouted, "You've got some customers in need of assistance out here!"

His scream echoed back at them twice but still no one came out. "Give it up, Kili. There's no one here." Vik said, leaning on a desk. But as he stood up, he felt his hand come in contact with a desk bell. As his hand came down over it, the striker sprang up and collided with the side of the bell, creating a small, metallic sound that was hardly noticeable. But almost immediately after the ring, loud shuffling could be heard coming from the back of the room. Heavy footsteps soon followed as an elderly man, dressed in a white shirt and orange smock, emerged from the darkness.

"Good day, sirs. How may I be of service?" He said, almost getting away with concealing a sneer.

"Erm...I was hoping you could help us find something." Vik responded, removing the watch from his pocket. "I found this old watch a while ago. I was wondering if you could take a look at it."

The man looked with obvious distaste at the watch but he realized he probably wasn't going to get any more customers today so he might as well submit himself. "Very well sir. Come right this way. And don't touch anything!" He walked over to one of the displays and lifted up the tablecloth. From underneath, he fished out an old gas lamp and a box of matches. "I apologize for the way things are right now." He said as he lit the dwarfish candle inside the lantern, "The construction crew accidentally cut through a power cable while they were digging a new foundation. We've been in the dark for a little over a week now."

The orange light from the lamp illuminated their path as the elderly man led them to the back of the store. Several more shelves and tables passed by before they arrived at a large wooden desk. Tiny hammers, screws, and pliers were spread across the top next to an ancient brass scale. The shopkeeper cleared a space in a corner and laid down the lantern walking around to the other side of the table. "The watch." He said, reaching forward. Vik took one look at the man's outstretched hands and felt his fingers tighten around the bronze token. Something told him this elder was not to be trusted. "Are you deaf?" The man barked, "I said give me the watch!"

Hesitantly, he laid the watch down on the table, feeling as if he were handing over all his money to a con-artist. The wrinkled hands reached down and picked it up. They turned the token around several times and traced the elaborate 'M' with their fingers. The man's face bore a calm expression, but if the four of them had taken the time to look at the meaning hidden in his eyes, they would have seen a look of shock and unease. "Where did you say you found this again?" He asked as he placed the watch on the scale and applied weights to the opposite end.

"It was just lying around in my house." He lied, shrugging to make it seem more convincing. "I never really took the time to look at it until now."

"It's missing a few grams." The man said, taking note of the scale's measurements. "I believe it's lost at least 45 of it's original mass to corrosion." He pulled open a drawer and removed some sand-paper, which he used to scratch off a portion of the rust. "Quite a bit of Patina on here. I'd say it's about a eighty years old, give or take a few years. May I?" He pointed at the latch that held the two halves of the watch closed. Vik gave him a quick nod and the man proceeded in opening the watch. He stole a short glance at the picture and drew in a sharp breath. The teens looked at him curiously for a second but he ignored their judgments and went ahead to pry open the face-plate. He tipped it on its side and poured about an ounce of sand onto the table. "It's been in the water, no doubt. Most of the gears are still intact. It's not completely beyond repair." He concluded, laying the watch back down on the table.

"That'sss it? There'sss nothing elssse you could tell usss?"

"What else do you want to know?"

"Well, for starters, you could tell us who bought it." Mosely stated.

The clocksmith shook his head. "I'm sorry. That's impossible."

"Why?"

"The electricity wasn't the only thing those construction workers cut." The man replied. "They also tore through the main water pipe. The entire basement got flooded. Since we keep our past sales records in filing cabinets down there, they got washed out and destroyed."

All four of them muttered foul words under their breath. They were sure the old man would have pounded the crap out of them if his eardrums hadn't already decomposed. "Oh well. Sorry for bothering you." Vik pronounced, reaching for the watch. "We'll just be going now."

Vik's palm had barely touched the surface of the watch when the clocksmith's hand shot forward and grabbed him around the wrist. "You know, I could fix it up for you. It just needs a few new parts and a good polishing."

"You really don't have to." Vik responded, grimacing in pain as the man's bony fingers continued to tighten around this arm. "I don't really need another watch."

"Now, now. If you're worried about the price, I'm sure we could arrive at an agreement." The elder rejoined. "Com'n, it'll make a wonderful gift."

Desperation was evident in his tone and expression. The man seemed a little too eager for him to leave the watch behind but Vik thought it to be the result of the series of misfortunes. He decided to take pity on the clocksmith, seeing that he was going to need every last piece of gil to fix up his sad excuse for a shop. "Alright! Just let go!" He shouted, lifting his hand off the table.

The second he did so, the elder released his grip on his wrist and scooped up the watch. "You'll have to make a deposit of 2500 gil. You'll pay the rest of the fee when you come to pick it up. Just leave your name, address, and phone number. We'll let you know when we're done." Reluctantly, Vik reached into his pockets and gave him the proper amount of gold before writing down his contact information on the back of a business card. "You will not be disappointed, Mr. Fellcrest." The clocksmith said, looking over the figures Vik had just written down. "We'll have your watch ready in about a month, assuming that the parts we order come on time or if we get another job."

"I highly doubt that last instance would be a problem." He muttered as he signaled for his clan to leave. They had only gone a few feet when he suddenly remembered something. "Wait for me outside. I've got one more thing to take care of." He said to the group before running back to the man's desk.

"What do you need now?" The man barked. Now that he had the boy's watch and money, there was no longer any reason for him to be polite.

"I just have something to ask you. Two things actually."

"Well, make it quick." He snapped. "I'm a very busy man."

"First of all, I'd like the watch to be engraved." Vik said, grabbing a pen and a piece of paper. "If you can fit this on the new faceplate, then please do so." He scribbled a message in cursive and handed it to the clocksmith.

"James and Olivia Fellcrest: 14 Ambermoon, 2202." He read. It was, of course, the date of a wedding. He had seen many people do this before and it posed no challenge for him. "Is that all?"

"Yes. And one more thing. I'd like to remove that picture in the top half of the watch before you start working on it."

"Remove? What for?" The man said nervously.

"It might get damaged or destroyed while you're fixing it up. I know it would be much safer if I held on to it." The man opened his mouth to retaliate but decided it was not worth the trouble. Slowly, he shoved a screwdriver between the glass of the top half and pried it open. "Thanks." Vik said, accepting the picture with a delicate grasp. He tucked the photograph into his wallet before leaving the shop.

The clocksmith watched as he walked back into the daylight, making sure he was really gone before stepping back into his office. So the boy got some picture of a girl; it didn't matter. That wasn't what he was interested in. "You haven't got the slightest idea of what you've done." He cackled, pocketing the watch and the contact info.

---

"You sure took your time, kupo." Kili grumbled as Vik emerged from the gloomy shop. "What were you doing in there?"

"Just putting together some final arrangements for my parent's present." Vik replied, pulling the door shut behind him, holding it in place until it stood still. If a thief were to come by, the best thing the owner could do was hope the thief would think it's locked.

"Oh right. Their anniversary was today." Perceived Mosely. "Like always, you waited until the last minute. I take it you forgot again?"

"Yeah." Vik scowled. "But at least I got them a nice gift. That watch is gonna be perfect once they clean it up."

"Actually, I think you should get them sssomething elssse for the time being." Yolando put in.

"Why?"

"Well, think of it like thisss. How would you like it if your parentsss gave you your Christmasss presentsss in Goldmoon (A/N: The Ivalice equivalent to April) ?"

"Huh. I never thought of it like that. So what do you suggest I get them?"

"Anything you want. Rosesss, cardsss, chocolatesss; they're going to get a watch anywaysss, just try to keep them happy until it'sss finished."

"Sound good to me." Kili commented as the group began to walk away. "Just don't buy them here."

---

Vik ended up buying his parents a 'Happy Anniversary' card and a small bouquet of flowers, which altogether cost him 75 gil. They said they believed Vik when he said he would give them a larger and more expensive gift later but they took it as an excuse for his tendency to forget important dates. Though this was partially true, Vik could tell they really didn't think he had a second gift. "Oh well," He thought, "At least now it'll be a surprise."

As if Vik wasn't already short on credibility, he lost even more points when Saria presented her gift. "Happy Anniversary!" She pronounced happily, holding out a glass wind chime in front of her.

"Oh my! Saria, this is just lovely!" Mrs. Fellcrest exclaimed, accepting the fragile keepsake with a careful grip. "You really didn't have to, you know. You're like family to us and your company all you need to give us."

"I wish they could say the same for me..." Vik thought, looking daggers at Saria's gift. He didn't understand what his mom was getting so worked up about. The wind chime appeared to be extremely simple, like the kind sold for 50 gil in giftshops and craft stores. Hollow glass bulbs resembling upside-down balloons were hung from the edge of a metallic ring with clear, plastic thread. Two rods, a gold one and silver one, were twisted into a single spire and hung suspended in the center of the ring, a good distance from either 'bell'.

"Oh, it was no trouble at all." Saria answered after returning Vik's glare. "It didn't cost me a cent."

Vik's jaw almost dropped to the floor. "Don't tell me you shoplifted again!"

"No, I made it." Saria rejoined. "It wasn't hard or anything. I just melted down some glass and coins and hung them on a metal ring. I didn't steal it. I swear!"

"What did you mean by again?" Vik's father pursued, completely ignoring Saria's explanation.

"Again?" Vik backtracked on his words and realized that he had indeed said 'again', referring to the time Saria robbed practically every store of their goods. "Sorry, I must have been caught up in the moment and used the wrong words. I meant nothing by it." Saria already had a permanent place on his parent's good side, he just didn't have the heart to sully her reputation.

"Be careful of what you say in the future. Wrongful accusations can get you in heaps of trouble." His dad replied before ushering his wife out of the room. As soon as they left, Saria gave Vik a weak smile.

"Thank you for sticking up for me back there." She said before adding, "Though you wouldn't have had to if you kept your mouth shut."

"Don't mention it." He said, filtering out the last few comments as he walked towards the door. "It's what family does for eachother."

---

Seeing that Vik and Saria had to be at work by ten, Vik's parents decided to save them an extra trip by booking a hotel room in downtown Bagabu. "This'll be fun." His dad remarked as they all piled into the family car. "After we all have dinner, you guys can just walk to your job. Your mother and I would just stay behind in the hotel room until you're finished." Only Vik seemed disturbed by this. When Saria asked him why, he blushed and turned away.

"You'll understand sooner or later." He mumbled. He and Saria slept for most of the car ride, knowing that they would have to stay up until 8 AM in order to accomplish all 10 hours worth of work they were required to do daily.

Dinner was nothing special. After Vik's dad insisted on booking the presidential suite, they only had about 3000 gil left, which wasn't enough for anything fancy. Ultimately, they ended up going to the fast food district and ordered Chinese food. Saria had some difficulty when it came to using chopsticks. After countless attempts, she still couldn't pick anything up so Vik went to the Italian restaurant next door and stole a fork. He didn't think she would need a knife, since they were eating noodles.

When they finally finished eating (apparently, Saria has trouble with noodles too), they went back to the hotel and watched T.V. His parent's said they wished the teens could stay longer but Vik knew that, in truth, they wanted them gone. And fast. Now he wasn't about to disobey his parent's wishes, especially when the decision to make was that obvious. Smiling, he grabbed Saria, who was completely captivated by cable television, by the shoulders and marched her out the door, pausing only to give them a wave and a final 'happy anniversary'. "Hold on, I forgot my bag!" Saria pronounced as Vik shut the room door behind him.

After checking that the door was properly locked, Vik grabbed the 'Do Not Disturb' sign from under the doormat. "Forget it! We are not going back in there!" He retaliated, promptly hanging the sign on the handle. "Who knows what they might be doing in there?"

"But our room keys were in there." She said as they started walking towards the elevator. "And what could they possibly be doing in there that's so important that they can't be interrupted?"

"Trust me, you do not want to know."

They continued on in silence for the remainder of the trip, though Saria continued to bring up the question when Vik seemed the least unattentive, hoping he might slip up. Fortunately Vik, now aware of the girl's persistent curiosity, ignored the inquiries and made certain that she wouldn't ask anyone else. While they were waiting for the incoming plane, Saria divulged one more question that finally succeeded in catching him off guard. "So did you find out anything at the clock shop?" She asked almost casually.

"No. They just told me how old it was and forced me to let them repair it." Vik answered without looking up from his magazine. It took him a full minute to realize what he just said. Slowly, he looked up to see if Saria had misheard him, only to find a triumphant smile on her face. "I mean...I don't know what you're talking about." he said in a final but ineffective attempt to wriggle his way out.

Saria only frowned. "Stop playing dumb, Vik. I overheard you talking about it with the guys yesterday and I saw you take the watch." She said with a rather hurt expression. "How long were you planning on keeping this from me?"

There was nothing else he could do now, Saria had him backed into a corner. "You might as well come clean." His brain advised. "Well, I wasn't planning on telling you anytime soon." He answered, "But I wasn't going to keep it private forever. Only until I've found out everything. Who you are, where you came from; you know what I mean."

"I want to find out about my past just as much as you do." The girl responded, "So why do you feel that you should keep something like this secret from me?"

"It's not that simple!" Vik said in a firm yet sympathetic tone. "Over time, we've all come to accept who we are and the lives we lead. We treasure its deformities and polish its remarkable aspects. You, however, are a special case. You might not like what you find out about yourself."

Saria put across a curious look. "So you were trying to protect me?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Vik looked down at the ground and answered while studying his shoelaces. "I guess you could call it that." He rejoined. "I just don't want to see you disappointed. You might regret ever wanting to find out."

"I won't regret it. Nothing can be worse than being nobody." She, too, stared at her feet for a second before poking her face into Vik's viewing angle and giving him a small smile. "So no more secrets, okay?" It was a bit uncomfortable having Saria's face so close to his so Vik sat up straight and lightly pushed her head away before answering. "Alright, no more secrets."

---

The clocksmith stood patiently in the center of his office, clutching the rusted watch to his chest. It had been a several hours since the teens had left and the old man was getting impatient. Suddenly, the air around the room began to cackle as static began to form in the corner of the room. From nowhere, huge gusts of wind began flowing towards the sparks. Within seconds, a hole had opened. Taking it as if it were a holy symbol, the clocksmith knelt on one knee, whispering prayers under his breath. As the wind began to die down, a being made entirely of shadow, even darker in comparison to the room, emerged from the rift. Before him he pushed a wheelchair, bearing an elderly man in priest robes.

As soon as the wheelchair rolled to a stop, the clocksmith presented him with the watch. The priest spent a good amount of time looking at it, turning it around in his hands to examine the craftsmanship and detail. When he finally finished, he only said one thing: "Where in the world did you find this?"

"A boy brought it in to me just earlier today." The clocksmith rose from his genuflection to a respectful kneel, making sure to keep his head down low. If he did as much as look at him a weird way, Neo-Zaora would take it as a sign of insolence. The closer he was to the ground, the safer he would be. "I got him to leave it with me after promising to repair it." He continued, "It's the Martyr's watch, is it not?"

"I have no doubt that it is." The reverend responded, running his fingers along the edge of the token. "But why did you feel it was important enough for call me down here just to see it?"

"Sir, this man has been dead for over 14 years!" The clocksmith replied, slumping his shoulders in an attempt to get even lower. "The sudden appearance of one of his possessions could mean-"

"If what you're trying to say..." Neo-Zaora cut off, "Is that somehow, the Martyr has returned, you are sorely mistaken. It's just not possible."

"Why not? We already know of the existence of reincarnation. You of all people would know, having experienced it for yourself."

"Indeed I have." The reverend said grimly before placing the watch back on the table. "But resurrection is something completely different. Even the White Mages have yet to advance past revival."

"Yes, but there's always the possibility that he wasn't dead in the first place!" The elder exclaimed, rising to his feet. This was, of course, the greatest form of disrespect you could show to your king but Neo-Zaora was too tired to notice.

"Now you are just getting paranoid." He mumbled, motioning for the shadowmancer's attention. "Sharu, take us back. I am in no condition to be out of bed, especially for petty situations like this."

"It's not petty! I know it was him!" The clocksmith shouted to their receding backs. "His eyes! They were amber!"

Upon hearing the words, the pair suddenly stopped. The reverend pulled himself from the shadowmancer's grip and wheeled himself right up to the Clockmaker. "Repeat your last words!" He ordered.

"I said his eyes were amber." The man said, looking down his nose at the confined priest. "Now how many people have that amazing quality?"

Now Neo-Zaora was hardly ever wrong so so he felt the clocksmith's newly acquired self-important feeling was well deserved. He suppressed his anger and forced a wicked smile back on his face. "It could still be a coincidence but we better keep an eye on him." He replied. "Did you get his name?"

"Oh, I got much more than that." The clocksmith answered, handing him a card.

"Vik Fellcrest..." The priest read. He quickly looked over the remaining information before pocketing the card. "I just have one more question. If this boy were the reincarnation of the Martyr, why would he so willingly give up his most prized possession?"

"Perhaps his memories are being repressed until the time is right. When that might be is impossible to tell."

"That may be the case. Or perhaps he's not who we think he is..." The priest signaled the shadowmancer, who immediately twisted himself back into a portal. "But if he is, this could very easily destroy all we have been working towards. I'll need some time to decide what to do. He could be an extremely valuable asset to our organization. But if he chooses to go against us, I won't hesitate to kill him." And with that, the reverend turned himself around and wheeled himself into the rift.

---

A/N: Hey all, sorry 'bout the...extremely delayed update. I've brought along the usual list of excuses with me: School, homework, and my eventual-debut web comic. Seriously, every time I go to school my friends shout: "Where's the comic? Did you finish the comic? You know what you should be working on? Here's a hint, it starts and ends with C." I've still got a lot of work to do on that. Hopefully, the next chapter would be up sooner. At least now that it's winter break, I'll have a LOT more time to work on it. Unless I get stuck in another hole in the plot line, which I have done so many times in this chapter alone.