Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Love and Duty ❯ Past, Future, and Revelations ( Chapter 3 )

Notes and Warnings: Minor spoilers for FFX-2, as it is post FFX-2.
A Gippal/Baralai(Gippalai) [eventual] slash, and romancing.

'So There Aren't Lawsuits' Warning: I don't own or have special privileges in the following : the characters, FFX, Squaresoft/Square Enix, FFX-2, or other things I forgot to mention, or ignorant therefor of.

Personal Note: Finally dished out chapter three. I'm not sure how long this story will be, but I'll keep going as long as I can. Chapter four should be expected in 1 week.

Zanieey:- Y'know that comment inside your head? Yeah, it was supposed to happen. Just more suspense. And y'know, what I said about Gippal persuading Baralai into an intimate relationship? It's soon to come. Even more suspense. I'm sorry if any other comments cause blood loss. But if I work chap 4 just right, you're going to need a lot of kleenexes. And not 'cause you'll be teary eyed.

Minamoto Miyuki: Yep, I will continue this fic. And yaoi fan girls are good. I myself being one...

Additional comment: Woah. Did you know there is an underground Gippal/Baralai society? Yikes. Oh, and apparently the official name is out for this couple. 'Gibara' or 'Gippalai'. Gippalai tickles me senseless, I can't help but laugh. So Gippalai it is.



Enjoy :Chapter 3: Past, Future, and Revelations


I watched him as he padded down the hall, still damp and barefoot. Long, straight green pants, with an ocean blue vest. Hair down around his face, the way it should be, the shock-white giving his face an ethereal glow. The quite handsome celestial being made his way towards me. I smiled, sitting up and motioning to the floor beneath my feet. He shook his head, smiling, and made his way over. He sat cross-legged; his eyes were shut even before I touched him.

It is the most wonderful thing, these moments. There is this silence that is only proper, for words would only break this bond we create. There is no speaking, just the faint awareness of each other's needs. Baralai is a warm being, but cold to the touch. I don't know why it is, sometimes his hands and feet are ice cold. Mind you, if he lived in a desert, people would be jealous, and couldn't keep their hands off him. No better way to cool off than with a passionate lover who's body temperature is a little lower than normal.

I love this body. Muscled, yes, but very lean. Olive skin. Thick, soft strands of hair. Nice neck, soft and smooth, just waiting to be kissed, nibbled, marked...

Damn. That was close. Didn't even make it to that lovely collarbone with all its sensuous dips waiting to be tasted...

And I really need to concentrate. On something else. Just zone out Gippal. Iie! No day dreams or fantasies! Ok. Clear your mind. Good. Now what is that sound?

I looked down. Sure enough it came from the man beneath me. A sort of purring sound. Of course I immediately think of a passionate lover who's body temperature is a little lower than normal and articulates pleasure in purrs. It's odd, but I like it. No, I love it.

"Meow?" I tease, now carding my hands through his hair. I love my gloves, hate to take them off, but I would most definitely for this. It feels so good. It's said this is a personal form of affection, touching people's hair. Well, the two of us got the touchy and the feely down. What's keeping us apart? Oh yeah, our jobs. And that fact I want a relationship with this man, not a semi-enjoying quick time.

"Yep. Meow." He sighs, cracking open one eye to look at me. I love it when we're on the same wavelength. I wedge my feet under him, pushing him forward a bit. He tries to turn, but I steer him forward with the grip I have on his shoulders. I slid down off the couch, fitting myself between the furniture and my perfect desert oasis. I slid my legs to either side of him, my arms wrapping around his torso. He easily relaxes against me. I smile in simplistic joy. He draw up his legs, palms resting on his knees. I nudge him gently.

"It's later." I inform gently. I want to know what happened, but I won't push it.

"Yes it is. But it is a long story." He sighs, eyes slipping shut again.

"I've got all week." Well it's the truth.

He chuckles. "You'd hate me for talking your ears off."

"I love to hear your voice." I really do.

"Huh. My memory must be a little off. I'm pretty sure you've said 'Crid Ib*' more than once to me."

"That's only because you have to make friendly with everyone we run across."

"It's polite conversation,"

"-It's a waste of time."

He has this sort of grin on his face, and I can't figure it out. I continue to argue with him about stopping whenever someone said 'hello' to make 'polite conversation'. Maybe it's because he knows he's going to win? It's then I see it. It's hard to fool an Al Bhed, since they know all the tricks in the book. But apparently young, alluring praetors have the ability to make even the best side track.

"Your journey may take longer, but you will have plenty of friends and potential allies."

I couldn't argue there. "Ok, let's say you win this one. Now about this long story of yours."

He raises and eyebrow in surprise. "If you must."

"Oh, I must." It'll be easier to exact my revenge with all the facts.

"Well then, let's start at the beginning."


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


I was determined to tell him everything, and I hoped this strange twist of my life wouldn't change his view of me. It starts before I was born. My parents lived in Bevelle, upper middle class. Rich to most, not so in Bevelle's standards. Bevelle has ancient wealth, more than anyone could ever know. In fact, only 2 people every 50 years know of the accumulation. The chosen praetor, and the other chosen for Bevelle's treasury. But I digress.

My father was sent to check out disturbances in long abandoned Zanarkand. He took his newly wed wife with him, unable to be separated from her long. A bypassing priest saw when they were ambushed by multiple fiends. Too soon they were both immediately petrified, despite their magic proofs, and the rest of the fiends crumbled their statues...

"... But the same people who were dust returned to Bevelle. They lived a year at their home, at the end of the year giving birth to a son,"

"-You never told me you had an older brother." Gippal interjected, trying to make light of the heavy atmosphere. He knew I had no siblings.

"And that son was me. My mother gave birth at home, and we lived happily as a family for six years..."

... But it was then that a man had come to Bevelle, and nearly fainted when he saw us. Shakily he approached, asking my father if about 7 1/2 years ago he had visited Zanarkand. My father didn't deny it. He asked another question as to the day and hour, before he started raving like a lunatic, claiming us as evil spirits and unsent.

He sought immediate attentions by the Praetor, who was his father-in-law. Apparently there was other witnesses who were in the ruins. They later testified that my parents were in fact dead, and they even, in respect, took up the crumbling pieces and buried them in Zanarkand.

A summoner was brought forth, performing the ceremony. My parents never disappeared. It was then the same man pointed to me, saying that I was born of the Fayth, a curse of the fiends that slay my parents. This gentle man, Emanul, pointed out how unbelievable the situation was.

The crazy man shot, he shot my mother. But the bullet went right through. No blood, no wound. Just a smoking hole on either side. The guard he took the gun from knocked the weapon out of his hands, pinning him to the ground. Everyone else stood in shock at us. The Praetor ordered the summoner to perform the sending ceremony again, but nothing happened. My mother wept, crying out on who would take care of her son, if they were gone.

The man, Emanul, touched her shoulder, a solid body, and promised to watch over me like one of his own. And the most peaceful expression crossed my parents' face. Like those who die in their sleep. I watched them fad into a glowing mass, floating away, like gravity had no effect on them. I tried to hold on to one of them, but the transparent mass slipped through my hands. But during the moment I touched them, I saw in my mind, my parents standing there...

"... They told me they love me, and they will always be nearby, whenever I needed them."

"Then there are many things your parents and I have in common." Gippal's hands covered mine, long, slim fingers slipping between mine, curling under into a comforting hold.

"I noticed." I squeezed his hand back. Then I told him how I got my scar. "The crazy man took the sheathed knife from the guard, kicking out and he lunged for me. He yelled that I was unsent too, and he would prove it..."

That's where the blade cut. I can still feel it slow and deep. I cried out. The blood fell down my arm like a river, but he kept cutting. He called it an illusion. He said it was fake. That's when he cut across my wrist. But I bled there too.

Emanul jumped on him, the blade skittering across the way, stopping at the Praetor's feet. I remember watching him pick it up, fingering the blood on it. He sniffed it, even tasted my blood, a surge of horror passing over his face. He ordered the immediate arrest of his son-in-law, and ran over to me, being held my Emanul. The details are sketchy from then on. I faded in and out.

My next memory was looking at a ceiling, much like the one at home. My left arm was all bandaged and numb; I didn't know why. The room was empty, and I tried to get up and find my mother. But I was so dizzy from just sitting up, I collapsed back down.

This warm lady approached me with concern; at first I thought it was my mother, but she was not. She explained I was safe, and with Emanul, at his house in Bevelle. Her name was Liena, and she would take care of me. I tried to speak, but I was so tired.

I healed quickly, thanks to Emanul. They taught me well, showing me love and kindness. When I was nine they allowed me to train for fighting. I was so young, and I was training with older men who wanted to be guards. The instructor almost fell down laughing when I asked. Whether it was luck, if you could call it such, there was an accident with a sparring partner. I asked him to let me help, and he did, reluctantly. I had learned a lot from Emanul in white magic. He was impressed. Ever since then I have been training for battle....

".... And it paid off in my future job. Desk work."

Gippal chuckled quietly, drawing our arms around my body. He whispered in my ear. "Thanks."

I was so tired. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. I don't remember much beyond that. I can only guess I feel asleep in his arms. It's the only way I would have it. Always.

I had a strange dream though. That after I fell asleep I heard him say something that must be my imagination.


" I know we've been separated a long time, but I love you even more now. I love you, you know. I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm thankful for this guy Emanul and his wife. And I will be always nearby, right next to you when you need me. I'm yours. Always. Could you be mine? Forever? 'Cause I only play for keeps."


I know it's silly, I mean, it was just a dream right? But I couldn't help but answer what was in my heart.


"I play for keeps. And if I could earn you, I'd keep you forever, or as long as you'd want me. It'd be a miracle."


And I know it's puerile; it was only a dream, right? But I'm sure I heard a response.

"Where there is great love, there are always miracles.*"



But now that I am more awake, I'm not so sure it was a dream. I mean, it couldn't be real, could it?








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*Crid Ib: Al Bhed for 'Shut up'.


*"Where there is great love, there are always miracles."
--Willa Cather (1876-1947)




Next up: Chapter 4: Fate's Blueprints