Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Love and Duty ❯ Chapter 2: A Visit from Gippal ( Chapter 2 )

Notes and Warnings: Minor spoilers for FFX-2, as it is post FFX-2.
A Gippal/Baralai [eventual] slash, and romancing. Oh yeah. The only thing I own is my writing, ideas, my purchased game, and a few Auron posters. I really don't own the characters, FFX, Squaresoft/Square Enix, FFX-2, or other things I forgot to mention. Just in case you had any doubts.


Personal Note: Finally found some other Gippal/Baralai authors. And thank you for all who have reviewed.

Eyes-of-Lily: ~ yes, I think Baralai and Gippal are adorable too.

Gravity:- You flatter better than Gippal! Thanks, and more chapters are to ensue. Probably once a week for now.

Minamoto Miyuki:- Thanks a lot. And yep, more is here.

Zanieey:- I found some more Gippal/Baralai authors, like you said. And this probably will be suspenseful. Gippal and Baralai already have a deep relationship from their years living with, fighting beside( maybe with), and trusting one another. It's up to Gippal to sway Baralai into an even more intimate relationship. In chapter 3. Oh the suspense! I know, I'm cruel.

Mirelas: Update soon? It's here already. Thanks for the offer, and all the compliments!


Additional comment: Gippal at the time is 18, while Baralai is 20. Yes, Baralai is older than Gippal.



Enjoy: Chapter 2: A Visit from Gippal


Two knocks. One. Then two more. I smile as I know who it is. I call out to him, finding new energy I once did not have.

"Enter at your own risk." The door slid open, and sure enough, just as promised, my good friend arrived, grin plastered on his face like always.

"You know me," he replied, sauntering up to my desk. "always a risk taker." I smiled before I risked a glance down at the paper before I signed my life away.

"How was your trip? I hope you found your way here without trouble." I asked, concerned. He merely just laughed.

"It's hard to miss Bevelle, ya know. And you know how hard it is to find someone like a Praetor in a place like this. He could be anywhere." Gippal laid the sarcasm on thick. I inwardly winced. 'Overkill' was never in the Al Bhed's vocabulary. But I couldn't hold out the laugh of irony.

"I only wish I could be out strolling amongst the citizens, instead of the slow tortures of hand cramps, headaches, and paper cuts." Immediately I wished I could take that back. It was probably the most unbecoming thing I have ever said.

"I hear ya. When paperwork is on the line, I just want to get up and leave. I'm better suited for action, for a hands-on job, not to sit there and sign papers with random ink markings."

I watched with disproval as he poked and prodded through my stacks of papers. When he sensed me staring, he turned, seeing me gazing at him, then he sheepishly left my stuff alone. I motioned towards the southern wall and the empty chair.

"Come, please, sit. And you can tell of what's happening in Spira outside." My eyelids drooped a bit, exhibiting my tired mind and body.

"This is a lot of stuff to do for just one week. How do you do it?" Gippal asked curiously, picking up the chair and placing it beside the desk.

I could hardly believe my ears. One week? Ha. The three stacks is just for one day. This one. And tomorrow there will be another three stacks; just like the day before, and the day after. I give my friend a weak smile.

"This," I gesture widely at the covered surface area of my desk, " is for one day, my friend. " Gippal was shocked. "This, this is why I wish to talk now, because my days are long and my nights of rest are short."

I realize I'm making my job out to be the worst thing. In fact, I am quite glad; the people respected me, and allowed me to serve this way. In a few weeks the paperwork will settle down to a small bit. Right now it's high because of all the radical changes. A pile for complaints, comments, and suggestions. Another pile of to be signed material to initiate my plans. The third pile was the usual requests that revolve around Bevelle; interviews, temple maintenance, and questions on Bevelle's stance on other worldly matters.

"A day's?" Gippal asked with certain doubt. I nodded. He whistled low. "Listen, I'm not sure, but don'tcha think you could pass some of this on to someone else?"

I shake my head in remorse. "No, not now. Bevelle is going under drastic changes, as it needs to be. In a few weeks the paperwork will be back down to a normal flow."

Gippal looked at me skeptically. "And what, exactly, is a 'normal flow' to you?"

I pointed with my pen to the smallest stack of requests.

"Now see, you had me worried for a moment there. Maybe I need to whisk you away for a while. Make you take a break."

I shake my head. "I planned for tomorrow, and the day after for leave. "

"Yeah, but you'll be dead for those two days." He replied, waiving his hand in front of my eyes. Despite myself I am smiling.

"I promise not to fall asleep during breakfast tomorrow." Gippal apparently found that amusing. And it was then my selective memory conjured up an image. I cut him off at the pass. "I know what you're thinking. I was real tired, I spent all day with you and Nooj, and then I was out training all night long..."

Gippal burst with laughter. "Right into the rice porridge you go. I swear if it wasn't for me beside you, you would have suffocated."

"Probably." I couldn't help but smile again. It was natural to smile around him.

"Great. You owe me one. Now I'm asking you to pay up. Leave work early. Take a break for yourself."

I chuckled. "Even on my life I couldn't. I'm sorry, but I must finish these today." I swear, I almost saw a pout on that man's face. I felt pity for the man, so I made a compromise. "I'll work late tonight," I cut him off before he could object, "and I will take 3 days off."

The Al Bhed grinned, stretching out his legs. "It's a deal then."

"So where are you staying?" I inquired, going back to my task at hand.

"Over at a hostel.*" I cringed. The cheap lodging for visitors. It's not that they were bad, it's just they were on the outskirts. He was barely in the city. I tore off a piece of paper, writing my apartment number and the lock code.

"Here." I handed him the paper. "This is my apartment. There is plenty of room, and the guest room has a nice, comfy bed. Make yourself at home."

Gippal leaned over, letting his hand cover the mine, skin sliding against skin, and he slowly withdrew the piece of paper. The feel of his long, slender fingers brought a memory unbidden to my mind.

'Parting is such sweet sorrow, Love.'

I tried my hardest not to blush, I found it was something I was doing way too often around my good friend. But by Gippal's laugh, I knew at that attempt I failed. He leans over conspiratorially, a glint in his eye.

"What where you thinking?"

I can feel the heat rise on my cheeks. "Nothing." I utter quickly, breaking any eye contact and resuming work. He watch him from under my lashes; he leans back grinning.

"Sure you were."

I pull up the sleeve on my left arm, absent-mindedly scratching my wrist, when suddenly it is pulled.

"What?" I call out, curious as to why Gippal is so keen on it. I blanche as those fingers trail down the white scar, pushing up my long sleeves, stopping as the scar faded halfway down my arm. I try to pull my wrist away, but he held tight, examining the shame of my past.

"It's old." Is the only response he gives me. His index finger follows the wide cut mark under my wrist. Most would think it was a suicide attempt. It was an attempt on my life, but not by me.

"Yes, it is old. Now please, let go." I tug again, but he refused to relinquish my hand. His head snapped back up. Malice intent glows in his eye.

"Who did it?" His voice is low, serious, and deadly. He was a quick study. I should have known he would have figured I couldn't have inflicted it. Wrong angle.

"It was a long time ago." I plead while testing the strength of his grip. He shakes his head in disbelief.

"I don't remember seeing it. It has to be after we separated ways..."

I shake my head. "It was before. Long before."

"How come I never noticed?" He let go, the sleeve falling back over the traces of my past.

"How often do you look at a man wrists?" I smile, the smile never reaching more than skin deep. He moves for my other hand. I sigh and yield my other wrist, happy that I can write with both hands, and I return my attention to the task before me. Well, not all my attentions. The light touches trailing down my arm does a good job of distracting me, especially when he brushes over sensitive veins. A long strike of ink crossed my signature and the rest of the paper when he snatched my left hand again. I protested mildly, taking another pen from my desk to continue my work. His index finger expertly traced the white line, causing me to shiver from both sensation and grim memories of my childhood.

"It's cut purposely, running right along the vein. You were meant to bleed. A quite a bit." Yes, I was meant to bleed. In fact, because of that long incision, I still have nerve damage today. Nothing bad, I just sometimes go numb in the fingers, or my hand aches. Hence why my ability to write, fight, and cast, in both hands equally. I experimentally move my fingers, my mind now focused on the past.

"Please," I beg, "this is not a matter to be discussed here. I'll explain later." Gippal reluctantly dropped the conversation and his hold, but he studied my left hand. I went back to work, the only thing I could do in this silence. It was partly companionable, yet it also ostracized.


I hardly realized how much time had passed, until I found only one stack remaining, and the sun setting beneath the expanse of Bevelle. I smiled when I saw my younger companion. Feet up on the corner of my desk crossed at the ankles, and he was paging through one of the old books that lined my office wall. 'History of Spira, before the Great Fall.' Ah, the grand days of Zanarkand only centuries ago. The glory, the bright lights, tall buildings, and throngs of people. All before the fateful day of Sin. Though some ideals were sketchy, Bevelle held and copied some of the oldest records ever found. Those fortunate enough to enter into the graces of Bevelle, were privy to things not even the elite knew about. Another thing he planned to change.

"Gippal." He closed the book, his feet sliding back onto the ground. "Thank you for staying this long, but you don't have to wait for me. You can leave for the apartment whenever you wish."

He simply smiled. "And how long would I have to wait for you there?"

I smiled softly. "Quite some time. Sometime after, oh, 2 hours."

" Twenty-one hundred hours?" He asked incredulously. I nodded in affirmation. "Okay, see you then. Or sooner. Better be sooner."

I simply smiled, not wanting to jinx the time of our meeting. "I will see you soon, enough."

"Yes, Father."
I smiled fondly at his joke, as I would always tend to him, correct him on his manners, and see to his needs. 'More like a mother.' I thought. I sighed, returning back, once again, to the papers drowning my desk.


******************************************************* **********************


I watched Baralai walk quietly, like he would wake me up. The man sticks to his word, and has never uttered a promise. His word is his best. It's rare to find a man like that today. Twenty-one hundred hours, the lights of Bevelle casting a nice glow over the dark room, minimal illumination over his tired form. I began to rise from the nice couch in the sitting room, Baralai catching the movement.

"So you are still awake." He spoke, amused. I sat up, watching him set down a small case, and unclasping his outer robe-of-sorts, hanging it neatly on a hook by the door.

"Of course I'm up. You and Nooj were always the morning people." He walked towards me, the city lights allowing me to glance at his worn features.

"Yes, you're right." He paused, carefully picking up the book that was in my hands. The same book that I was busying myself with earlier today. "You're still reading it?"

I nod. "Yep, I'm addicted to Spira's history. Just like everyone else, I bet." He sits down beside me, sighing when his back hits the plush couch. I draw my feet back on the couch, resting them comfortably on his lap. He pokes a foot with suspicions, but doesn't push them off.

"I did say make yourself at home, didn't I?"

I smile. "Something to that effect, yeah." I watch him as he snaps his fingers, and the room brightens in a soft yellow glow; candles dotting the apartment suddenly lit. He smiles adorably at seeing my unbelieving stare.

"See? There are advantages to possessing mage skills." I laughed. I remembered teasing him about practicing magic as much as he did his weaponry. I stopped quickly after our battles in the Crimson Squad found great use for his skills. It was then I found out his amazing abilities in white magic, and I promised I'd never teased him again. But I'll tease him again, never-the-less.

"So that's why you wanted the ability of a black mage."

He only smiled. "Yes my friend; so when I get old in age, I can light candles." I chuckled, my quiet laughter punctured by a yawn and a stretch. He motioned over, the gesture familiar and welcomed. I knew what he wanted.

I swung my legs off the couch, stood up, and strolled over to him, settling down on the floor between his legs. His hands rested on my shoulders as I relaxed against the front of the sofa. His fingers dug deep into my tight muscles easily; after I arrived here, I removed my armor and regular clothes, donning a simple vest and loose pants. I set my head back against the cushion, watching beautiful face above me. He looks down, smiling softly, before he sets his mind back to my massage.

Many years before, after a long, hard day; if we didn't pass out on the beds right away, we would continue a tradition of back massages. It was then Baralai would also work his magic; literal and proverbial. I swear, each time I was more relaxed than I was ever before in my life. As his hands soothed away any of my aches, he would expend all of his energies, even to exhaustion, to heal any wound, no matter how minimal, he found. And his touch, oh it was a glorious thing! While his light caresses excited the senses, at the same time it quelled the current of sensations, bringing a calm. Not only would he relax the body, but he made the mind placid, and left your spirit tranquil.

I'm not sure when I browned out, but I remember opening my eye when I noticed his hands left my body, after a hand ran through my spiky hair. I still had my head back, and I watched as he flexed his left hand. I could see in the candle light the long scar. By the way his hand flexes, I can only guess that nerve damage was done. It makes me angry, knowing someone could have done this, purposefully. Someone who would hold a young boy, and scar him. Perhaps try to kill him. He rises from his seat, and I grab his good hand, tugging, asking him to join me or switch positions. He shakes his head, pointing down the hall.

"Shower first. Don't worry, you won't wait long." I still hold his hand.

"Need some help in there?" I joke, partially hopeful. He laughs quietly. It's great to hear him laugh. Like water in the desert. Baralai is my secret oasis, especially when he laughs.

"No fears, my friend, there is no rice pudding that I could drown in." He slips from my grasp, traversing down the hall, shutting the door to the bathroom. I merely smile again. It's hard not to smile around this man. His words are soft and caring, just like his heart. When in his tender moments, I can hardly believe this man takes up a instrument of death in his hand. Yet he does, and he kills, with no hesitation, as a warrior should. But he doubts, hesitates, when it's another human. He doesn't perform his best. And I understand. How could hands that heal, turn and hurt?

It's then I am shocked. He's never, ever, from all I know, dealt the last blow to his enemy. They may be disabled or unconscious, but never, by his will, have they died. Huh. He's as innocent as I thought he was. Now that I'm thinking of his hands, it is later, isn't it?

I make a mental note to ask him about that scar when he gets out of the shower.







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*Hostel: A supervised, inexpensive lodging place for travelers, especially young travelers.
-Side note: I believe Bevelle would reluctantly open it's doors to common man and outsiders. It would make sense lodgings would be on the outskirts, to discourage vistors to stay long.


Next: Chapter 3: Past, Future, and Revelations