Wakka had been right, but there were details he hadn’t been told about. Nearly everything the doctor had done for him had been ruined during the fight or before, and now Seymour was suffering the consequences of saving his own life.

Both his internal and external stitches had come undone--only a few internal stitches had remained in place—and it had turned out there were metal staples in his chest, holding the wound closed. At least, there used to be.

Added to that, Jyscal had felt Seymour could pull through on his own without the medicine the doctor had prescribed against infection—an Al Behd specialty, imported directly from Bikanel Island.

Last, and possibly least, he hadn’t eaten anything since the nearly fatal dinner.

Anzi stayed with Seymour in the spare room she had set up for him—with him in a new room, Anzi back, and several of Yuna’s friends staying over, the palace was becoming quite crowded—when she wasn’t needed somewhere else. Yuna wanted to stay and comfort Seymour, but all he did was sleep and everyone wanted to talk to her, to ask her questions, to show her things and have her show them where things were in the palace.

The only people who ‘watched’ him were Lulu and Wakka. Everyone else save for Auron, who wasn’t allowed in the room, was too young and energetic to sit still that long. Plus no one considered them mature enough to help him to the bathroom during the few times he was awake.

He refused to eat, and Anzi had to force food down his throat—a useless effort, considering that even when all he ate were the pills it came right back up again.

The few times Yuna managed to see him, he was asleep, and unhappy. From speaking with the few others who had been with him, it was obvious sleep was voluntary as well as brought on by the medicine; he’d rather face nightmares than the humiliation of being immobile and incapable of taking care of himself in front of these people, complete strangers though they were.

Now that whatever negotiations were finished with for the moment, however they went, Jyscal seemed irritated with Seymour’s slow pace at getting well.

That was too much. He needed her. He wouldn’t admit it, but he needed her. He needed someone who wasn’t there for duty and she was the only person he had for Anzi was the resident nurse of the palace. She couldn’t leave him to suffer alone. He’d had enough of that for one lifetime, this one would be different.

He had his face buried under a pillow, his hair poking out from under it strangely, when she found him. Wakka said he’d fallen asleep like that and since he hadn’t suffocated the last three times he did it, he didn’t bother stopping him.

"Just ignore me, ya?" Wakka said, excusing himself from the room, leaving the door open enough for him to notice if any disasters happened.

For hours she just sat one the bed holding his hand and brushing her finger through his hair after removing the pillow. She wondered what tumultuous dreams he was having, that made him whimper in his sleep and jerk away from something unseen at random moments. His skin was paler than usual and had an ugly tint to it; there was a thin layer of warm, slimy sweat all over his face. Still, she sat there and held his hand, knowing everything would be worse if she wasn’t there.

He woke up slowly, blinking and wondering if it was worth the bother. He noticed her hand on his and was too weak and too drowsy to pull away. By then, though, he was caught. She knew he was awake. "Yuna…" he whispered, then shuffled, pulling his free arm from under the covers and wiping his face as best he could. "What are you doing here?"

"Why shouldn’t I be here?" she asked.

He looked away from her.

"Seymour?"

He pushed with free arm and managed to roll over, pulling his hand free.

"You should be with your friends."

"Why can’t I be with you?"

"Please, Yuna."

"I’m not going to leave you alone, Seymour."

"I appreciate your… concern, but it is ironically badly timed."

"I don’t understand."

"I didn’t think you would. Whenever I’m alone, I’m alone. When I want to be alone… I’m not. Why are you doing this?"

"Because I… I’m your wife."

"We both know that has nothing to do with anything between us, Yuna. And that it won’t change anything. Your… angry friend is right. There’s no point for you to be here anymore. Go home. There’s no point in trying."

"Trying what?"

"To like me," he said, covering his face with his hand.

"Seymour—"

"Yuna, go away."

"Seymour, are you crying?"

"NO," he lied.

Yuna let him cry. He was in so much pain, he’d been alone for so long, and now… now he didn’t understand. He didn’t believe her. Maybe he had a right to. Maybe he thought she’d leave him, one way or another, and he’d prefer her to be happy than dead like his mother. He thought she was poking fun at him, giving him exactly what he wanted—her—but flaunting the fact that she’d never care for him ever time he saw her.

She pulled his hand away and he refused to look at her. She brushed a few bangs away from his burning forehead. "It’s the right thing to do."

"Your… lover taught you that, didn’t he?" he asked.

"Tidus--? No, I—"

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that."

"I thought you’d have wanted what was right… over what was best."

"And what would be best?"

"I don’t know if they’re so different now," she said. "When… when you asked me that question, of which I would choose… what did you mean by it?"

"I wanted to know… if you would take Anzi with you when I had you leave here when my father came back."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You’d still hide away in Baaj?"

"No," he said, sighing. "I’d face my father. It was the best I could come up with for a distraction. He wouldn’t be too concerned about Anzi, or find out that she was responsible for his murder—"

"What?" Yuna asked, seeing him suddenly freeze up. "What is it?"

"Wakka’s right outside the door, right?"

"Yeah."

"Did he hear me?"

"I don’t think so."

"He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t tell my father, wold he?"

"I don’t think he’s too fond of Jyscal," she said. Seymour didn’t speak up and they were left in silence for a moment. "I don’t think he heard you."

"Yuna, if you are concerned about doing the right thing, then go. Please. I told you I never wanted others to suffer, and that includes you. Go home and don’t come back. Go find Tidus."

"But… But what would be the best thing to do?"

"That is something you cannot do, Yuna."

"What is it, though?"

"Yuna, I learned my lesson. You don’t… you don’t think of me the way I think of you. That would be what would be best. We’d both be happy that way."

"Seymour—"

"I’m tired, Yuna. It hurts. And I think I’m going to be sick all over the bed. I appreciate this, but… I want you to go away now."

All this time, he never looked at her. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see how hurt he was… or why.

She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, surprising him.

"Why?" he asked, finally looking at her for the first time since she had come to visit.

"I wanted to," she said, getting off the bed. "Get used to it."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"This is not going well," Krim said. "We are back full force! Jyscal is spending his time fighting with his son and repairing relations that won’t hold to go after us! He’s too old and too distracted and yet last time we had the two sent to Baaj by this time."

"And we’ve lost Cor and Tio," Py said. "And Kren."

"Kren was never lost. It was a mistake to bring him in. We were lucky he trusted us enough. Too bad the plan to blame that half-breed on his death failed."

"We lost Jaddin. Promising young thing."

"He hesitated" Krim said. "We do not have room for hesitation in this syndicate."

"What of Maln then?"

"What of him?"

"He failed… and so far he has survived."

"And he has been punished," Krim said. "From his swearing, I’d say he learned his lesson."

"Why keep him, though?"

"Because someone so reckless is invaluable to us. You haven’t seen him in a real fight. He took out three of us in one fight when it took several months for Jyscal’s pests to manage that."

"But… are you sure we can count on him being loyal?"

"He doesn’t give a shit over humans in politics, true," Krim said. "But if there’s one thing he lives for, it’s revenge. However, we cannot put all our faith into one berserker."

"Ah, that was what you wanted to discuss."

"Indeed," Krim said dangerously.

"I do have a plan, yes."

"And that would be?"

"There’s always chaos between Jyscal and his ugly son and I believe the new bodyguards are having some… squabbles of their own."

"So?"

"So there is one key person Jyscal made a mistake with. She was better off in Beseid where we couldn’t get to her, guarded or not."

"We are not trying to get to Jyscal!"

"Why not?" Py asked. "That maid may have her morals in the wrong place, but she’s worth something to someone. Jyscal would have fired her a long time ago were she not a friend… or mistress, whichever. Seymour was said to have run off with her… or after her… or something along that line."

"And the other six or seven nuisances running about?"

"Not even Sir Auron would stand by as we killed an innocent, helpless woman, besides, she’s found out three of us and they were lucky to escape before Jyscal found them. They can’t set foot near the palace, let alone parts of town without risking everything."

"And how long do you expect to wait for such chaos to ensue?"

"I never said we should wait. Any little thing will set them all off at each other. I heard Seymour threw up on one of them another nearly killed that one for some stupid remark. We don’t wait, we just change our target. There ARE two people in that marriage and knowing him, he’ll never consummate it. I’ve heard several stories, all horribly amusing, in fact, the townspeople are still gossiping about it."

"This had better work. Your plan to wait until their guard was down failed."

"And that is why he is bedridden from it?"

"you are not allowed to brag about near-misses!"

"Then hwy are you still leader?" Py asked. "You managed, in two years, to kill only one of them and have the entire syndicate murdered. I believe the honor of finally killing the bastard belongs to his wife."

"I wouldn’t speak so, if I were you," Krim said. "Such talk is treason, and the penalty for betraying us is death before the treason can be carried out."

"I shall keep that in mind."

"Then think before you speak. Your plan is interesting, but I think Maln should not be ignored. You want chaos, he IS chaos."

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Auron!" Rikku yelled. "I thought I kicked you—uh… hi."

"Indeed," Jyscal said, bowing slightly. "I thought you’re friends did not wish to leave children with him."

"Nnn," Seymour said.

"Wakka said he was bored and wen to go get some fresh air," Rikku said.

"What’s with the pillow?" Jyscal asked.

"He likes it, I guess."

Seymour pulled the pillow off his face. "I thought I was having another nightmare."

"Young lady, if you would," Jyscal said, nodding to the door.

"Uh… would what?" Rikku asked, embarrassed.

"He doesn’t want any witnesses," Seymour said, earning an angry glare from his father. That, in turn, caused Rikku to step between them.

"And they considered her smart enough to keep someone who can’t walk out of trouble," Jyscal said.

"I’m not letting you two alone!" Rikku protested.

"See, she’s smart," Seymour said.

"And don’t call me stupid!" Rikku said. "Either of you!"

"Young lady, I am the one in charge around here. Now you have thirty seconds to get out of my way, and out of this room before I throw you out of it and him out the window. After that I am leaving ALL of you on Baaj. Permanently."

"Uh… I’ll be right back ," she said sheepishly, and walked backwards towards the door to keep an eye on both of them. "No roughhousing."

Jyscal went to stand by Seymour, who handed the pillow to him—or at least he tried.

"What would I do with that?" Jyscal asked. "It’s filthy."

"I thought you came here to put me out of your misery," Seymour said, dropping the pillow on the floor. "What a sad, sad shame it would be were I to pass away in my sleep after lingering like this from such an injury."

"I am sparing your life already, Seymour," Jyscal said. "I would appreciate it if you would, in exchange, employ some tact for once. I have ruled for over fifty years over Guadosalam. You, in less than one, have managed to undo all I have worked for."

Seymour was silent.

"A wise response," Jyscal said. "The ronso wish to have nothing to do with us. The Al Behd, however, have agreed to renew relations, given that you personally make reparations."

"And that means?"

"It means that for once you are responsible for your actions, not me. It means your are the one berated, personally and I am no longer responsible for your stupidity."

"It means you win," Seymour said. "Congratulations. You would have loved to see me when I was in charge; a riot nearly started three times when I addressed the people over Yuna accepting marriage with me… not just over her."

"Yes, Seymour. I win indeed."

"That makes the score, what? Infinity to nothing?"

"I warned you about glibness Seymour."

"What are you going to do? Kill me?" Seymour asked.

"The walls have ears around here, Seymour. You push me, I will definitely push back. And you will not like where you land."

Seymour was silent, but the look in his eyes told his father he understood. He understood all too well. Somewhere, beyond those cold, stern eyes he looked right into, he remembered Baaj. He remembered spending a year and a half in the cold, screaming, and crying. He remembered running up to his mother, sobbing so much he couldn’t yell her name. He touched her. He was so young he still had childish naivete to believe there was hope. Then he pulled his hand away and his innocence was shattered. His hands… his tiny hands were covered in blood… her blood. Then he screamed.

"I’m glad we understand one another," Jyscal said, and walked towards the door just as casually as he had come in.

Then there was the letter. He saw her dissipate in an upward shower of glittering pyreflies. So many colors, thousands of tiny rainbows fluttering away though his fingers out of his reach and vanishing above his head. Then he carefully read the letter, not wanting to get blood on it, but needing to know why as much as—more than—he needed to breathe.

"I am going to watch you as your’e humiliated by the Al Behd and I am not going to come to your rescue."

The letter—his father told her he had to die. He was six. Just by existing and causing a small faction to revolt he had pushed his father and he had pushed back. Wherever there was to land, his mother’s death or his own, he would hate where he landed. His father had done so once. His father was ready to destroy him, and Seymour wasn’t about to have his innocence shattered again—not when he was in love.

Even if he didn’t mean anything to Yuna, she meant too much to him to risk her dying like his mother.

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