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I.
“Owie owie owie!”
“Stop squirming.” Rikku made an exaggerated face at Paine’s request, but she did, in fact, stop squirming. With the practiced hand of an eternal babysitter, Paine carefully separated and moved the assorted rubble and cabling trapping Rikku’s ponytail. “That dodge would have been a lot more impressive with shorter hair.”
“I don’t WANT shorter hair!” Rikku protested immediately. Then, quieter and with a hint of sheepishness, “It makes me look like Gippal .”
Paine made a noncommittal noise, then flipped Rikku’s ponytail over her face to show she was free. Rikku made another face but leapt to her fight with the pride of a liberated woman. “They say couples start to look like each other,” Paine smirked.
“We weren’t-Arrgh!” Rikku kicked rocks with the agony of an imprisoned woman. She stomped in a flustered circle, then sighed. “When we were kids, we got into a lot of trouble together,” she finally explained, “And when you DO that, the adults just ASSUME that you’ll, like, stay together forever. But we both just wanted to dig things up!”
“Oh, like us?” Paine called back to her. Rikku rushed up the corridor, embarrassed that she hadn’t even noticed the warrior leave.
“‘sides,” Rikku said as an afterthought, more to herself than anything else, “I don’t think you can look at someone like that if you knew each other as kids.”
“Well you are easy to look at.” Rikku’s face went bright red and she stamped her feet impotently, but Paine didn’t even turn around. “If this place is falling apart like that it’s pretty decroded. Not sure we’re finding much. But if we are,” she pointed down the hall, “It’s in there.”
The door was ornate, though its paint was long faded. Its stylized carvings had a familiar air to Rikku, though at this point she had been in enough ruins that such feelings were common. Architecture wasn’t her strong suit. Give her devices, give her buttons. Interactions and connections, that was her strong suit. History was for people like Yunie.
It felt strange to be adventuring without her. YRP without the Y. But Yunie was busy on Besaid now - being not busy, being domestic. Paine had reached out to her through - ugh, Gippal - and told her she had a map to something in Sanubia. And while her work with the Machine Faction made her happy and was improving people’s lives…she did miss sphere hunting. Rikku didn’t want it to be her entire life but surely, one adventure was fine. And who knew? Sanubian ruins had no shortage of machina to be salvaged.
Rikku inspected the door carefully, examining its structure, deciphering its components. A sphere activation, for certain. Paine, meanwhile, pushed on one side. The door fell into the chamber effortlessly. Rikku quickly ran through all of the retorts and jabs she could think of to make fun of the inelegant approach, but as light fell into the room beyond everything was wiped from her mind.
“That’s…”
“A fayth.”
A stone circle in the floor. A woman reaching up to…another woman? An angel? The work was damaged, unclear. Spires surrounded them, structures? Pillars? Weapons? Rikku’s mind raced both in interpreting the work before her, but also its context. Immediately she wished Yunie was here. History wasn’t for her. But she knew, everyone knew, exactly how many temples there were, and how many fayth.
“A lost temple?” she asked, more to the air than to her companion.
“Was it destroyed by Sin?” Paine wondered, turning and examining the walls.
“But they would’ve wrote it down in Bevelle right?” Rikku asked. Something was eating her about the entire situation. Even normally the find would be eerie, but she knew that there was something even more uncanny that she hadn’t spotted yet. And just as soon as she had thought of it, Paine turned and met her eyes.
“Wait,” Paine said. They looked at the fayth once more.
“Why’s it still here ?”
II.
“You know I have a machina that can do this.”
Paine ignored her, piling the sticks carefully before striking the flint. The fire flickered into life, casting its shadows across the desert. With her back to her, Rikku could see the barest hints of shadows play across her muscles. She was a little jealous. No matter how hard she tried, estrogen had completely sabotaged her ability to develop muscle. Not that she was complaining about the results, but having to rely on spheres to swing around greatswords while those around her did it with ease couldn’t help but feel othering.
“Wait what are you doing!” she protested suddenly, as Paine squirted cactus juices on the meat she was preparing.
“Have you…not…?” Paine asked.
“I don’t like weird stuff.” Rikku hugged her knees close to her chest. She felt like she was being a child.
“You lived here.” Paine didn’t help that feeling. But she seemed to notice. She looked up for a moment and then smiled at Rikku. “Do you trust me?”
What an unbelievably unfair question. “Yeah,” Rikku said with resignation.
“I won’t cook anything you don’t like,” Paine said, “And I promise you’ll like this.” She held a pinky out to Rikku, and Rikku hoped her grumpiness was properly conveyed in her finger’s strength.
They were quiet for a time. Paine watched the meat carefully, ensuring that no side was being overcooked. Rikku alternated between watching her and the stars. A thought eventually came to her. “Did you ever finish that book?” she asked Paine.
She was surprised to see Paine pause. Usually silence meant that it was something she wasn’t going to talk about, that there was an internality that Paine wasn’t going to let someone see. But she very much could see Paine thinking about what to say, and not just dismissing her with a brusque statement. “Some things felt…strange to write about,” she finally arrived at, “How to describe certain people in certain events. Some things where I still wasn’t sure how I felt.”
“Oooh,” Rikku said, seeking to understand. She had never written a book. Assumedly it was just about writing down what happened and when. But she was willing to defer to the reporter’s expertise. “I guess you and the guys did go through a pretty complicated situation.”
Paine turned back to the cooking, and had something in her voice that Rikku couldn’t quite identify. Not sadness. Sin had made sure everyone could spot sadness. “Yeah,” Paine said simply, but that mysteriousness made the words linger.
The food was the best Rikku had had in months.
III.
“I can’t let you do this!”
Rikku closed her eyes and smiled softly. She’d known this was going to happen. She turned to face her partner. “Paine,” she said gently. “You know you can’t stop me.”
Around them the spires of their beloved city stood in twilight, light reflecting off the windows to cast them both in neon shadows. Paine fumed quietly, unable to fully vocalize her pain. Rikku could see it etched on her face. She knew.
“I don’t want- This won’t stop them,” Paine protested. “They won’t care if we have a martyr. This new maester just, just hates us! And so many people…” She trailed off, frustrated.
“I know,” Rikku said, “I’m not doing it to stop them. I’m doing it to protect us.”
“But-” Paine began.
“If the church pulls its protections, something will have to replace it,” Rikku smiled. “Our city will need something to protect it. And maybe, if we’re lucky, it can even be one step closer to defeating-”
“Then I’ll do it with you.”
The “What?!” that came from Rikku’s mouth was the purest and least forced loud noise she’d ever made. Nothing could have stopped it. “No, no you can’t!” she eventually got out. “You have to, live and-”
“Is your life worth so much less than mine?” Paine asked. The determination in her eyes was well known to Rikku. She stammered another impotent protest regardless, the power dynamic of the conversation completely inverted. “You aren’t the only one who has the right to love.” Paine stepped forward and grabbed her hands. “I have done everything with you til now. I will do this with you now.” Rikku balled her hands up into fists and beat them into Paine’s chests. Paine just embraced her. Rikku collapsed into her. “If you truly believe this is best,” Paine whispered to her, “Let me do it with you. Let me make it better . Let me be with you .”
“I hate you,” Rikku whispered.
“E muja oui,” Paine replied. She wiped the tears from Rikku’s eyes, ignoring her own.
In the shadows of the spires of the greatest Al Bhed city, they kissed.
IV.
Rikku lay awake in her bedroll, sweating profusely and staring at the stars as the first rays of morning began to obliterate them.
Weird dream. Weird dream.
V.
“Why is HE here?!”
“I wanted to get here as fast as possible,” Baralai protested awkwardly, his hands up in premature defense. “He, he was in town and his bike could be spun up faster than a Yevon ship-”
“Aaaah, she just didn’t know she’d be at risk of swooning today!” Gippal laughed, dodging the rock he already knew Rikku was throwing.
“Baralai, it’s down here,” Paine said, gesturing down towards the ruins. “Were you able to find any spheres that could shed some light on it?” Baralai sighed and shook his head.
“I didn’t even need to look,” he explained, happy to be pulled away from the bickering Al Bhed. “While New Yevon had, problems, a positive that came out of it was unfettered access to Bevelle’s historical archives. And while I had yearned to learn what secrets had been hidden by the maesters it quickly became clear that their approach to unwanted history was not to hide it, but to destroy it.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to figure anything out?” Paine asked. She turned into the passageway she and Rikku had cleared before, assuming he would follow.
“Oh, I do think I can provide some assistance!” he said with the excitement of a puppy who learned a trick. “While the specifics of the region may have been destroyed, if they had ever been recorded to begin with, I do have a great deal of knowledge of traditional building practices and rituals - if the church had anything to do with this, I should be able to say so with confidence!”
“Great,” Paine said, and Baralai assumed she meant it.
“Incredible,” Baralai murmured when he came to the chamber of the fayth. He quickly performed a prayer. “To think that the fayth can endure, blessed even as the church falls from grace, truly this is-ahem.” He sheepishly composed himself. “You’re right of course, you’re right.” Paine hadn’t said anything. “That the fayth still lingers here and has not been permitted to return to the Farplane is a travesty.”
“They’re being prevented?” Paine asked. Baralai nodded.
“It’s quite clear to me, yes. Here here and here,” he pointed at sections of the wall that, to Paine’s eyes, looked identical to the rest. “The original designs of the wall have been painted over, and glyphs used in the church added. Though where most glyphs traditionally are used to permit passage, these are intended for the opposite effect.”
“They locked them in,” Paine murmured.
“But looking at these, yes, quite old. It must not even have been able to be summoned as an aeon. It would…it would be so good to study the fayth, to learn more about the area, but no.” Baralai shook his head, almost talking just to himself now. “Sin is gone. The fayth earned their rest. This is Yevon’s duty. I must remove these glyphs.” He immediately set to work channeling energy, muttering, praying. Paine watched him for a moment.
“Need help?” she asked.
“I can do this alone,” he replied. “The act is not difficult to perform, just to learn.” He thought for a moment longer. “It would probably be best if you guarded against any fiends outside.” Paine nodded and left. For a time it was just him in the chamber, surrounded by forbidden history and shame. He endured it. It was his duty.
“‘I was in town’, huh?”
Baralai winced. “I didn’t want to…”
Gippal laughed. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” He paced around the room, taking it in. “Wild stuff, huh?”
“It’s…”
More laughter. “I don’t know a damn thing about it. This ain’t my scene. You just do what you gotta.” He placed a hand on Baralai’s shoulders. “Just, hey. Don’t beat yourself up for something that’s not your fault.”
“I wasn’t-!” Baralai huffed, then bit his lip. “It has to be done.”
“It’s good that it’s done.” Gippal smiled, then added “I assume.” He continued meandering about the room. “I ain’t here to stop you from doing something good. Just remember it can be other people too.”
Baralai closed his eyes, working through his frustrations with a familiar argument. “It’s different for you,” he said, unable to stop himself. “You were the only one the spirit didn’t - I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it.” He opened his eyes again to look into Gippal’s. The Al Bhed didn’t say anything at first, his face unreadable, but eventually a smile returned.
“You think I don’t know what it’s like to have a guy inside me?”
“GIP-”
“It’s okay. I know.” He embraced the smaller man, holding him close. “This too is healing. It doesn’t matter.” A beat. “E maja oui.”
Baralai could have collapsed into Gippal’s arms, but he refused himself. There was still much to do. Still, there was nothing stopping him from savouring the moment, and he ensured that he did.
“Paine,” Gippal said later.
“Hm?”
“You said I was the only one,” Gippal pointed out, “But Paine wasn’t possessed either.”
“Right,” Baralai said as he traced the lines of ancient glyphs. “It just feels, different with her. She’s not a part of Our Group anymore. She found her own people. People who need her.”
Gippal chuckled softly to himself. “I think the feeling is mutual.”
VI.
“Did he say how long it would be?”
Paine shook her head. “He talked like it would happen immediately.” The two of them stood around the fayth, now cleansed of glyphs. Rikku wanted to pace, to think with her feet, but it felt disrespectful.
“Stuck down here for so long.” She tried to replace it with thinking aloud.
“At least they had each other.”
Rikku ran Paine’s words around in her head, and thought about the dream for the twentieth time that day. It made her want to ask a lot of questions that she really did not feel up to asking.
“Maybe,” Paine began. Every time she had spoken Rikku’s thoughts jolted to a stop to receive her words. “They’re asleep. Baralai said they couldn’t even be summoned. Maybe that has to happen first.”
“We could get Yunie. But, she’s not a summoner anymore.” Rikku said somewhat despondently. “No one is.”
“No one’s a summoner unless the fayth lets them,” Paine corrected. “And we have one.”
“Wait no no no you can’t mean, I can’t just-” Paine stepped forward and grabbed Rikku’s hands, suddenly possessed of an intensity Rikku rarely saw in her.
“A summoner needs to pray to the fayth,” Paine said. “We can try.”
Rikku didn’t know the first thing about praying. Sure, she had gained information through cultural osmosis. She wasn’t stupid . But what on earth was praying supposed to mean . How were you really supposed to do it, beyond making the hand symbols. Paine was asking so much of her. Her mind raced. She didn’t know what to do. She just stared at Paine, at the fayth, at the room. She thought about their adventures together, about the fayth, the Al Bhed, the dream. How was she supposed to focus on a prayer when so much had happened so quickly? She could barely even think of anything other than the texture of Paine’s gloves in her palms.
She didn’t even notice the pyreflies.
The roof of the chamber fell away and the night sky gleamed above them, illuminated not by stars but by the thousand thousand lights of society. Buildings like castles sheltered them from storm and sea, from prying eyes. Noises, distant, alive, the joy of a familiar language being spoken in jubilation. And next to them, a statue.
An angel, shielding a maiden. A single sword in her hand, wings wrapped around her. Water flowing freely around their legs, desert plants all around the scene not withered but flourishing. They did not look to unseen enemies, they did not stare to the skies. They looked at each other.
For a few fleeting moments, the city Alexandria remembered itself, a vision of familiarity. Rikku had seen this before. Not just in her dreams but in her soul, the deepest part of her blood. This was a past that in part was hers, even if she had never known it. And she had seen the two of them in the statue, even if she had seen someone else at the time. They seemed about to fly into the sky.
She looked at Paine, and saw in her eyes the same familiarity that she herself was feeling. The memories of the dream came flooding back. The warmth of her body. The shared emotion. The softness of her breath, of her…
She couldn’t. She felt like a child. She had a moment of pulling away, but her hands refused to let go of Paine’s. Rikku needed to keep going but so much had happened so quickly, how could she? She was so scared.
Paine didn’t let go either. “E lyh fyed,” she whispered.
They didn’t even notice the pyreflies.