A/N: So that took a little longer than I planned.

Thanks to anyone who still remembers this story for their patience! I have every reason to believe that the next chapter will be along sooner rather than later. Enjoy. Feedback of all kinds welcome, as always.

---

"Well, that was pointless." Beclem slammed the apartment door behind him with one hand and tossed his helm onto the couch with the other. It hit the back cushions, then bounced off, clattering to the floor.

Nooj limped in from the kitchen and settled into his chair. "Lady Yuna not an inspiring speaker?"

"You have no idea." Beclem plopped into his seat, kicking the helm aside as he did so. "It was a total waste of time. Just as well you didn't go." Despite Yevon's fall, Nooj still avoided appearing in public. Beclem had considered asking why, but since he wouldn't get an answer either way, he'd decided to let it lie. "She just rambled on about sacrifice and old friends. Nothing about Yevon, nothing about the deceptions of the Maesters and the teachings. Not a word about the future of Spira, or what happens now."

"That's unfortunate." Nooj tapped his metal fingers against his cane. "With the collapse of Yevon, Spira will be wanting a leader. Convenient if the High Summoner could fill the role."

"Yeah, so much for that," Beclem grunted. "Anyway, you would seem to be a free man. What will you do now?"

Nooj looked out the window. "I've imposed on your brother's hospitality long enough. It's time for me to go home. Now that Sin is gone, and the rebuilding of Kilika seems less like a fool's errand, I wish to lend myself to the effort, if I can." He glanced back toward Beclem, his expression almost sheepish. "I've already booked passage on tomorrow's ferry."

Beclem nodded, and then surprised himself with his next words. "May I join you?"

Nooj raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Beclem stood and walked toward the window. He stood there for a moment, looking over his city -- roofs hung with drying laundry, awnings over balconies and shop windows, some brightly colored and others faded by time and tattered by the sea breezes, people walking the alleyways, keeping to the shadows and avoiding the noontime sun. If he turned, he knew, he could see the blitz stadium, the docks, the ocean beyond them. All so familiar, and yet-- "This is my home. It always has been." He bowed his head. "But it doesn't feel right, being here when there's so much work still to be done."

He left the window and began to pace, hands clasped behind his back. "It's all I've ever wanted to do, you know, serve Spira and its people. That's why I joined the Crusaders. I could've played blitz professionally, but I chose to fight Sin instead. Now, the best way to serve is to rebuild. I don't think the Al Bhed or the Ronso want help from outsiders. I can't stomach the thought of going to Bevelle. That leaves Kilika. It feels like the right thing to do." He was in front of the window again; turning, he braced his hands against the windowsill to face Nooj again.

Nooj looked back at him, expression thoughtful. "I see." After a moment of silence, he nodded. "All right. Yes, come along. I'm sure they can use all the help they can get."

Beclem stood straight, bouncing on his toes, and stretched. "I'll be ready."

-x-

After a flurry of farewells -- a stilted conversation with his mother, a jovial lunch with the Goers, and a heartfelt leave-taking from Zalitz -- Beclem had met Nooj on the docks at dusk, and they'd boarded the overnight ferry together.

The first thing Beclem noticed when he awoke the next morning was not the heat but the humidity. The warm, heavy air covered him like a second blanket, even after he opened his eyes and rose from his bunk. Conditions were better outside, but the ocean breeze was still considerably warmer than the winds that prevailed in Luca.. After a moment at the rail to check out the view of Kilika Island, its lush green peaks rising in the near distance, Beclem stepped back into the shadows of the cabin to get out of the way of the sailors who swarmed over the deck, pulling ropes and shifting sails as the ship began to prepare for docking.

Nooj was already waiting there, gazing in the direction of his homeland. "Have you been to Kilika before?" he asked.

"No. This is my first time south of Luca, actually." Beclem glanced up and over his shoulder. "And you? How long has it been since you were home?"

"Five years." The boat lurched under a sudden swell, and Nooj grabbed the rail of the stair leading up to the upper deck to maintain his balance. "I haven't seen Kilika since the day I left to join the Crusaders."

"Huh."

Nooj glanced down at Beclem. "And your next question would be, so is it still home? I'm not certain, to tell you the truth. I suppose that's one reason I came back."

Beclem nodded. "Of course." He crossed his arms and watched the island grow bigger, the shouts of the sailors and the cries of the gulls competing with the water splashing on the sides of the boat. "We'll be there soon?"

"Soon," Nooj agreed. "Half an hour, perhaps?"

"Just enough time to find some breakfast. You need anything?"

Nooj shook his head. "I'll eat when we get there." His face was calm, body as relaxed as it could be when braced against the motion of the boat, but Beclem still detected a slight strain to his voice. More nervous about this homecoming than he wanted to let on, Beclem supposed. But as usual, he decided not to ask, instead heading back into the cabin without another word.

-x-

The S.S. Winno came to a gentle stop as Beclem swung his knapsack over his shoulder and lifted Nooj's bag with his other hand. He stepped off the boat and stopped dead at his first close-up look at Kilika Port.

Even after the reports he'd heard, he found the scene somewhat shocking. The town had been built on a series of platforms connected by floating wooden walkways, but no more than two dozen buildings still stood, along with as many or more ruins. Everywhere he looked, he saw walkways leading to nothing, or to piles of boards torn into splinters. Even though months had passed, it appeared that very little construction had been done. The smell of vegetation and dead fish filled the air. A few people were in evidence, mostly hanging back in the eaves of what buildings remained.

Beclem turned around and looked over his shoulder at Nooj, who surveyed the scene from the deck of the Winno. His eyes were empty, the lines of his face bleak, and Beclem felt a surge of sympathy. All his life, he'd feared the sight of Luca in ruins; he could only imagine how it must feel to have that fear made reality.

Nooj looked down, then descended the gangplank, testing his balance with each step. Once he reached the walkway, he paused, then gestured with his cane. "The Crusader Lodge was that way," he said. "Who knows whether it's still there. But it seems the best place to start. I--"

"Nooj!" A young woman broke from the shadows and ran over to them, nearly knocking Beclem aside in her haste to reach Nooj. Then she enveloped him in a huge hug, although not before Beclem noticed that she was heavily pregnant.

"Hello Valli." Nooj awkwardly wrapped his good arm around her back, then set her slightly back and gestured toward her with a nod to Beclem. "My cousin. Valli, this is Beclem, a friend from the Crusaders."

She bowed to him with a smile. "Hi, and welcome to Kilika," she said. "What's left of it." Her smile faded a little as she spoke, but it brightened again as she looked back to Nooj. She took his hand and squeezed it. "I never thought I'd see you again, not after the message Momma got last year."

Nooj's expression remained solemn, if a little warmer now. "As you can see, here I am. What's left of me." The corner of his mouth quirked into a parody of a smile. "How is your mother?"

Valli's face fell, and she looked at her feet, releasing Nooj's hand. "She's gone," she whispered. "When Sin came, she--"

Beclem turned away to escape the private family moment; he had taken only a few steps away when he found himself surrounded by a group of locals, chattering excitedly.

One of them tugged at his sleeve. "So that's really Nooj? Still alive? What a miracle!"

"I guess it is." Beclem glanced over his shoulder; Nooj was still talking to his cousin. "Is the Crusader Lodge still standing? Can you show me where it is?"

The man nodded. "Follow me." He started off down the floating walkway in the direction Nooj had indicated earlier; Beclem followed, noting the devastation that surrounded him. Boards and half-sunken boats floated in the shallow water. Buildings in various states of disrepair, from minor wind damage to total destruction, lined the walkways, and Beclem wondered if it would even be possible to return the port town to its former charm without major assistance from the outside.

"This is the place," the man said as they stopped outside a building as ramshackle as the rest. "Any former Crusader is welcome, I'm sure." Beclem nodded his thanks as the man turned and walked away.

Pushing aside the cloth in the doorway to enter the lodge, Beclem blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness of the main room. All the windows were boarded up, tiny beams of light peeking through the slats and catching the dust in the air. Half a dozen people sat at the table in the center, eating breakfast. Beclem cleared his throat, and they all turned to look at him. One, a woman with dark hair who looked vaguely familiar, rose to greet him with a smile.

"Hi," she said. "Welcome to Kilika. Can I-- Nooj!"

All heads turned toward the door, the pleasant expressions of greeting freezing into surprise and awe. Beclem turned as well, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He'd spent so much time alone with Nooj, away from the world of the Crusaders, that he'd forgotten to expect this kind of reaction. But Yevon or no Yevon, Nooj was still a living legend, especially among the people gathered here.

Nooj froze, his brow furrowing into a quick frown. Then the moment passed, and he stepped into the lodge, his expression mellowing. "Elma."

She crossed the room to Nooj, looking up at him with wide eyes. "You've come home! I can't believe it. I wasn't sure we'd see you again, not after..."

"Well. I am here." Nooj rested a hand on her shoulder, then dropped it. "I'm surprised to see you, too."

She shrugged. "No reason not to come back, really. The Knights were pretty much destroyed at Operation Mi'ihen; Captain Lucil was starting to pull things back together, but then Yevon fell apart and not much lasted after that. So we all went home. Guess it's for the best. I do miss the chocobos though, and the captain."

Nooj nodded. "I'm glad you're well." He gestured toward Beclem. "Do you know Beclem?"

Elma studied Beclem's face. "I've seen you around, anyway. Weren't you one of the leaders of the Operation?"

"You might say so," Beclem replied with a stiff nod. "I'm afraid that probably wasn't my finest hour."

"Aw, don't say that." She offered him a quick salute. "You all did your best. We wouldn't have taken part if we hadn't thought it was worth trying. Anyway. Welcome! Have something to eat."

She stepped aside, clearing their path to the table as one of the men pulled over two extra chairs. Beclem let Nooj sit first, next to Elma, then took the other after helping himself to a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee. The discussion around them turned to local politics: rebuilding, the status of the temple, who had survived to come home and who had not. Since most of the former Crusaders here were natives of the island, they knew many of the same people. Even Nooj listened with interest and contributed an occasional tidbit of information. Some of the names were familiar to Beclem, but before long he was feeling out of place, wondering whether he should have stayed home to play blitz after all.

"So." An unfamiliar voice interrupted his reverie, fork full of eggs halfway to his mouth; he looked into the friendly hazel eyes of the man who sat on his right, the one who had fetched the extra chairs. "Not a native, are you?"

Beclem set his fork back on the plate and shook his head. "I'm from Luca, originally. But there wasn't much for me there, so I thought I'd see whether I could make myself useful."

"I hear you there." The man took a sip of his coffee. "I was a warrior monk myself, and when Yevon fell apart my first question was 'who do I serve now?'"

"Were you stationed at Kilika Temple?" Beclem asked.

"Yeah. But I was also born and raised here. So really, helping rebuild was my only choice." The man inclined his head in the quick nod that signified an informal salute. "I'm Kal."

He nodded in return. "Beclem."

"Welcome to Kilika." Kal set down his mug and sat back in his chair. "So, you're from Luca. You a blitz fan?"

"I am."

Kal grinned. "Ahh, a kindred spirit. Get to games much?"

Beclem smiled back. "Whenever I can. Not so much since joining the Crusaders, of course, but every time I'm in Luca, I see as many games as I can fit in."

"You're a lucky man." Kal shook his head with a wistful sigh. "I try to make at least one tournament a season, but it doesn't always happen. This year, for example, although maybe it's just as well, given the kind of season the Beasts are having." He caught Beclem's eye and raised an eyebrow. "You're a Goers fan, I suppose."

"Naturally." Beclem lifted his hands in a mock-defensive pose. "Born and raised in Luca, and my brother is on the second string; what other team should I root for?" He reached for his coffee and took another drink. "Besides, we've hardly had a dominating year."

Kal chuckled. "For once. I have to say, if Kilika couldn't win the Crystal Cup this year, watching the Goers get taken down a notch by those upstart Aurochs was a fair second best." Beclem rolled his eyes; Kal cocked his head with a teasing grin. "Aww, come on. After five years in a row, you can't take a loss once?"

Beclem drained his mug and set it back on the table with a thump. "If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have minded so much," he said, "but to be beaten by that sorry excuse for a team..."

"In past years, maybe, but you have to admit they made a real turnaround this year. That kid who came out of nowhere really shook things up." Kal set the feet of his chair back on the ground and stood up. "More coffee?"

"Sure." Kal stood as he grabbed both mugs; Beclem took the last bite of egg remaining on his plate, then glanced around the table. The conversation seemed to have turned to the topic of possible sources of aid from the outside world.

"I guess it's too much to ask for help from what's left of Yevon," said the man on Nooj's left. "Since all their leaders are gone, except I guess the High Summoner. I wonder if she could help us."

Beclem could not hold back a snort of derision, and all eyes turned to him, He glanced up at Nooj, who shrugged, then took a drink of water. "I wouldn't expect much from that quarter," Beclem said. "Didn't any of you hear her speech the other day? She seems too wrapped up in her own grief to be of much use."

"Really?" Elma shook her head. "Doesn't sound like the High Summoner I met on the road. She seemed pretty determined to me."

Beclem shrugged. "I saw what I saw. It was more like a wake than a rally. Which of those do you think Spira needs right now? Yes, we've all lost people; some people lost everything." As he looked pointedly around the room, he could see everyone cataloging family and friends killed by Sin, at home as well as in battle. "No point wallowing in it, right? We should move forward." A few eyes shifted away, but to his relief several of the heads around the table nodded.

"Huh." Kal sat back in his chair and handed Beclem his refreshed coffee cup. "Well, it couldn't hurt to send an envoy to Besaid anyway. Just in case, yeah?"

"We might as well." Nooj set down his glass. "But for now, we'd best assume that Kilika will need to fend for itself. We'll have to draw up plans and pull together work crews, get as many volunteers from the other locals as possible. Agreed?" He glanced around the room, and Beclem noted that everyone looked back and nodded. It seemed that this crew had found itself a leader after all.

-x-

The sun beat down on Beclem's back and sweat trickled past his ears to drip on his neck as he pounded yet another slat into place. Then he let out a yelp of pain as the hammer slipped out of his slick palm, crashing into his thumb. "Dammit!" Rocking back on his heels, he stuck the thumb into his mouth to dull the sting.

"You okay?"

Dropping his injured hand and shaking it out, Beclem stood and turned around to see Elma. She walked down the floating walkway he had been repairing, Nooj a few steps behind, and she looked at him with concern.

"I'll be fine. My hand got too sweaty to keep a good grip." Beclem clenched his hand into a fist, squeezing the offended thumb. "Doesn't it ever cool down here? Or at least get a little less humid?"

Nooj shook his head. "We don't really have seasons here, at least not as compared to up north. It just rains more in the winter."

Beclem grimaced. "More? You mean I can look forward to several downpours a day?"

"Not so much that as winter storms." Elma grinned. "But hey, it's only been a week, right? Give yourself some time to get used to it. Anyway, you should take a break now. We were coming to get you -- the Liki will be in soon."

"All right." Beclem opened his hand to take one more look at his thumb; seeing no obvious damage, he fell into step between Elma and Nooj. "I still say it won't have made any difference."

Elma glanced over her shoulder at him. "Give it a chance. You never know, right?"

Beclem turned to Nooj. "She always this optimistic?" Nooj shrugged but said nothing. A few moments later, the three of them stood at the dock as the S.S. Liki pulled in alongside. Their first night in Kilika, Nooj selected Kazi, a Crusader mage with a talent for diplomacy, to head for Besaid and ask for Lady Yuna's support. Although Nooj had attempted to keep the details of his plan somewhat quiet, word had gotten around, and most of the Crusaders who had joined the rebuilding effort gathered dockside, along with a few other residents of the island. Fast whispers and high-pitched mumbling filled the air; Beclem could feel the anticipation radiating from every corner, from all his new companions, from everyone but himself -- and Nooj.

Two sailors jumped from the deck to the dock, tying the ship into place and pulling the gangplank free. Three other passengers disembarked before Kazi stepped out of the cabin. When she appeared, the crowd fell silent, the atmosphere of excitement transmuting into tension. She looked around the assembled group, then met Nooj's gaze. Nooj looked back and raised his chin, asking his question without saying a word.

For a moment, no one moved, not even to breathe. Then Kazi dropped her head with a quick shake of her red hair.

The crowd on the dock burst into a riot of sound, chattering interspersed with cries of "No!" and inarticulate groans. Kazi didn't seem to notice; she trudged down the gangplank and through the bustle, ignoring the Crusaders who pressed in close, asking angry and excited questions, as she made her way to Nooj.

"Stop!" Nooj held up his right arm, and the crowd quieted, although not to the dead silence of before. "Let her speak." He looked down at Kazi, who stared at his feet. "Tell us what happened."

Beclem saw Kazi's shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath; she lifted her chin and looked only at Nooj as she started to speak. "I got to Besaid three days ago. There were lots of pilgrims there, from all over Spira. They shuffled us all into a tent just outside of town and asked us to wait."

"They?" Nooj asked.

Kazi nodded. "The Lady Yuna's guardians. Mostly Madam Lulu and Sir Wakka. They're in charge right now, and they're very protective of the High Summoner. They said something about her privacy, and that she needed to rest." The murmuring sounds swelled, but Nooj halted the noise with a look. "I waited my turn, and I finally had the chance to meet with Lady Yuna for a few minutes yesterday. I told her about our situation, and she was polite and sympathetic, but she didn't say much. Just that she can't travel right now, or promise any assistance. Her guardians were there, so I didn't feel like I could push it any further So I came back. Sorry."

Nooj shook his head. "It's not your fault. You did all you could." She nodded, then stepped back with a sigh as Nooj raised his head and looked around at the assembled group. "So. This is a disappointment, but given our intelligence regarding Lady Yuna--" he acknowledged Beclem with a quick nod as he spoke these words "--we can't really say we expected any other outcome. Can we?"

Beclem tried not to look smug as the others looked at the ground and shuffled their feet. A few shook their heads; Elma sighed, and her shoulders slumped. "I guess not," she said.

"All right." Nooj pulled himself to his full height, and Beclem noticed that almost everyone else imitated his motion -- putting their shoulders back, standing just a little taller. "Now that this question is settled, we get back to work. Let's show the rest of Spira what Kilika can accomplish." Without waiting for a reaction, he began to walk back toward the lodge, Kazi standing aside to let him go, and then the assembled crowd fell into step behind him, their expressions a mingling of sadness and hope.

-x-

Nooj's prediction held true: two months passed with very little break in the heat, but the daily rainstorms became longer and more frequent. Then a storm blew in, driving everyone inside to seek shelter from heavy rain and fierce winds. No sooner had it broken than the heat and humidity returned, and that morning Beclem and Kal ventured back outside to check on the walkways. Together, they led the small work crew that repaired and extended them, spending their days bent over the bright shining water and planning out routes to houses that had yet to be rebuilt. They had made progress, but sometimes it seemed like they inched forward at an agonizingly slow pace, and Beclem could see a few missing and splintered boards, fresh damage caused by the wind and waves. "Do you see that?" he grumbled, waving his hand over the wrecked section.

Kal ran a hand through his messy sun-bleached hair and sighed. "Yeah. Guess we just have to get working faster, get these repaired and finished before the storm season really kicks in."

Biting back another frustrated response, Beclem hauled up his stash of wood and nails and motioned the rest of the team forward, barking out instructions to each member. Then he settled down to work, yanking a damaged board free, tossing it into the water, then laying a new one into place. Then the next, and the next, and the dozen after that, until he reached the end of this particular stretch. Wiping away the sweat and hair that stuck to his brow, he stood, each vertebra creaking as he unbent his back and rose to his feet. Then he pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes, and jumped straight into the sea.

For a few moments, he swam in a lazy circle, reveling in the cool waters, spinning as though to break a blitz blocker. But soon his lungs started demanding more air, and he reluctantly turned for the surface. Once there, he took a deep breath; looking around, he noticed that everyone was gone but Kal, who sat on the edge with his legs dangling in the water, balancing a blitzball on his open palm. "I sent the rest of the crew off to lunch," Kal said. "But that looks much better than food."

"Oh, it is." Beclem turned to float on his back, relaxing into the gentle bobbing of the waves, and he let out a sigh of relief. Despite everyone's reassurances that he would get used to the tropics, he still felt as sweaty and miserable at the end of every day in Kilika as he had after the first. Swimming was the only thing that made him feel human again.

Something smacked the water next to his head, throwing droplets into his face -- Kal's blitzball. Beclem rotated himself upright, grabbed the ball, and tossed it back into the air. It arced toward Kal, who jumped off the dock to catch it, landing in the water with a loud splash. Then he broke the surface and shook his head to clear the water from his eyes while letting out a whoop of pleasure. "Man, did you ever have the right idea." He threw the ball back up, and Beclem caught it. "Play to three?"

Beclem smiled. "You're on." He caught a breath and then dove, ball tucked under his arm, swimming for the underwater pylon that Kal had declared his goal the first time they'd blitzed one-on-one. They often played at the end of their shift, sometimes convincing others to join them, and it was always a highlight of Beclem's day. For a few glorious moments, he glided through the clear blue sea, no other living being in sight, relishing the coolness and quiet. Then movement from beneath caught his eye: Kal, who popped up in front of him and made a grab for the ball. Beclem snatched it away, then swiveled to make a sideways kick. The ball curved around Kal and bounced off the post.

Kal shook his head as Beclem lifted his hands, one with an index finger extended to represent one goal, the other in a fist to show Kal's zero. Kal swam off to retrieve the ball, then hurtled back at top speed, Beclem treading water and waiting for a kick or a pass. Seconds later, the ball sliced through the water toward him, and he lifted up his hand for the block; the ball bounced off his palm and up, heading for the surface. Beclem followed, breaking the surface just in time to hear a loud "Ooof!"

He turned and realized that he was much closer to the floating boards than he'd realized -- the ball had hit a passerby. Then he looked up at the woman standing on the walkway, who held a hand to her dripping wet cheek, the blitzball at her feet, and she looked back.

"Beclem?"

He hauled himself onto the walkway, through air that felt even heavier and hotter than it had before his swim. "Lucil?" He stood and took a quick glance around for his shirt, but it was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he settled for running his hand through his wet hair to straighten it, a futile attempt to look respectable in front of a commanding officer.

"It is you!" Lucil saluted Beclem with a smile. "I'd heard you were here."

"You heard right." Stiffening his back, he returned the salute, then gestured to Kal, who had exited the water on Lucil's other side. "Kal, another work crew leader and former commander of the warrior monks at Kilika Temple; Lucil, former Captain of the Chocobo Knights and one of our most respected Crusaders."

Lucil flushed slightly, then turned her salute on Kal. "Pleased to meet you, sir."

Kal returned the gesture with a smile. "Likewise, Captain. We're heading off to lunch, and we'd be honored if you'd join us."

She inclined her head and dropped the salute. "Thank you, Commander." She fell into step next to Beclem as they followed Kal to the old Crusader Lodge, which the construction crew used as a dormitory and mess hall. "How goes the rebuilding?"

"Well enough," Beclem replied. "Slowly, but steadily. We expect the walkways to be restored by the end of next month, although we had a storm this week that slowed us down. Then we can focus our efforts on rebuilding the houses that have been damaged. Our hope is to get enough habitable buildings that can survive the rainy season. Then we can start focusing on new construction. It may be years before it's finished."

Lucil shook her head. "Such a shame that it's taking so long."

Beclem shrugged. "It's so hot here; we have to take a long break every afternoon, otherwise we'd all drop from exhaustion. Of course, more volunteers would help, but everyone's too busy setting their own houses in order. Speaking of which, what have you been up to? And what brings you here?"

"It is rather a long story." Lucil smiled, her pleasant expression betraying nothing. "Perhaps we can talk at lunch?"

"Sure." They had reached the Lodge, and Beclem pushed the cloth door aside to let Lucil pass through first. By the time he followed her in, the room was already buzzing with excitement at Lucil's appearance, a small group crowding around her. Beclem considered popping back to his bunk to grab a clean shirt, but thirst won out over manners. And half the men in the room were shirtless, and most of the women nearly so; he hardly stood out. So he pushed past the throng and made his way to the food. After pouring himself a glass of water, which he downed in three swallows, he refilled the glass and grabbed a sandwich and a piece of fruit. Only then did he take a look around the room for Nooj, his usual lunchtime companion. Beclem soon found him at their usual corner table, a half-empty plate in front of him and a mug of ale in his hand.

"Where'd she come from?" Nooj indicated Lucil with his mug, then took a swig before setting it back on the table.

Beclem shrugged. "She didn't say. Promised to tell me more at lunch." He glanced at the doorway just in time to see Elma push through; she shrieked with joy and ran to Lucil, almost knocking her over with a fierce embrace. "But I have a feeling her time may be in high demand."

Nooj's mouth twitched into a near-smile. "Perhaps so. No need to press her; I'm sure she'll speak with us soon enough."

Beclem grunted in response, then tore into his lunch. One aspect of Kilika he had no complaints about was the food -- the fish was always fresh and well-prepared, and today's tuna sandwich with some sort of nut spread was no exception. But today, the meal held only half his attention; he kept finding himself looking back toward Lucil, deep in conversation with Elma at table on the other side of the room. He remembered then that Elma had been another of the Chocobo Knights -- did Lucil's appearance here have something to do with that group? Or had she just come to see Elma?

"Well, guess I can stop wondering," he muttered to himself as the two women stood and headed for their table. Beside him, he felt Nooj shuffle in his seat in an attempt to stand without using his cane. Caught between needing to show respect to a fellow officer and not wanting to show up a friend, Beclem brushed the crumbs from his fingers and scooted to the front of his seat in order to rise, but at that same moment, Lucil waved them both down.

"Please. There's no need to stand on formality. We are all equals here." She nodded to Beclem, who settled back into his chair, then turned a brilliant smile on Nooj. "Captain."

Nooj flinched. "I have no right to that title any longer. Especially if, as you say, we're equals now."

"Of course. Still, I am pleased to see you doing so well." Lucil took a seat; behind her, Elma rested a hand on her shoulder, and Lucil looked up.

"I have to get back to work," Elma said, "so I'll catch up with you later." She nodded to Beclem and Nooj and smiled down at Lucil, then disappeared out the side door.

Lucil watched her go, then turned her gaze straight at Nooj. "So, tell me about the rebuilding effort. Beclem and Elma both tell me that it progresses more slowly than you had hoped."

"You are correctly informed." Nooj sighed. "We're short of volunteers, materials, and construction experience. Most of us are soldiers, not builders, and too many of the locals who could have shared their expertise were killed in Sin's last attack. Everything takes three times longer than it should, and the crew is getting frustrated. Yesterday's storm didn't help matters, either, not in terms of time lost or of morale." He shook his head, then sat up straighter. "But I suspect you didn't come all this way to satisfy your curiosity about the state of Kilika."

Lucil smiled. "Your guess is correct, of course. But before I go into any detail, I ought to explain where I've been the past few months." She leaned forward, her back still straight. "After Operation Mi'ihen, the surviving Chocobo Knights went to the Calm Lands in search of more chocobos -- I suppose you heard that only one of our mounts survived the battle?"

Nooj's answering nod was grim. "That must have been difficult."

"Yes." Lucil bowed her head for a moment before continuing. "We found a promising herd, but before we had time to begin training, word came of the unrest within Yevon and then the fall of Sin. With neither force remaining to unite us, the group drifted apart, and most everyone went home." Once again, she glanced in the direction Elma had gone, so quickly that Beclem almost thought he had imagined it. "I was no exception. I grew up in Bevelle, and so I returned, but not to the city: St. Bevelle called to me, and I went there to see how I might assist in rebuilding what was left of Yevon."

"Yevon!" Beclem snorted. "Why would you care about them, after what they did to us? To the Crusaders, to all of Spira?"

Lucil raised an eyebrow. "Do you truly believe that all of Yevon knew the truth of the Final Summoning? The Maesters, yes, but they are no more. Should we hold all the priests and nuns responsible for the actions of their superiors, any more than the soldiers who fought in Operation Mi'ihen were responsible for the poor judgment of their commanding officers?"

Beclem clenched his hands into fists, his jaw tightening. How dare Lucil throw that in his face? Especially as she had also been an enthusiastic supporter of the operation and deeply involved in the planning. "And who led us into that poor judgment in the first place? Kinoc laid a trap for us, he wanted us to fail, to be made into an example. He..." A cool weight fell on his bare shoulder, and he stopped, realizing that he was shaking.

"Enough." Nooj laid his metal hand back on the table. "We can tell Lucil our theories later; for now, we should let her finish."

Beclem exhaled with a shudder; he opened his hands and let them fall to his lap. "Yes, of course. Sorry for interrupting."

"It's all right." Lucil relaxed back into her chair. "So. I went to the temple, and as you might expect, things were a bit chaotic. Without real leadership, there was a great deal of infighting; for the first month, it was all we could do to keep order. But then a former priest named Trema rose above the fray and took control. The priests and warrior monks who had remained have accepted his leadership, as have all the former Crusaders who came to Bevelle. Lord Trema has a plan for Spira: he believes we must learn more about Spira's past. Her true past, not the lies the Maesters let us believe for so many years. So he set us to work. The priests and nuns he sent into Bevelle's vast libraries, to read and catalog all the knowledge that has been buried in the texts there. Most of the warrior monks and Crusaders went back into military training, to be a force against fiends and brigands, but a few of us he handpicked for a special task." She dropped her voice, and Beclem had to lean over the table to hear her. "Lord Trema has found a number of sphere recordings depicting scenes from Spira's history, some of them over a thousand years old."

Nooj jerked upright. "A thousand years old? From the machina wars?"

"Yes. And some are even older." Lucil leaned in still closer. "Lord Trema charged us to find as many spheres as we can and return them to Bevelle, where they may be studied and catalogued. We will help create a truer picture of Spira's history than we could ever have known otherwise. He calls us his Seekers."

"And you're here to look for one of those spheres?"

Lucil nodded. "To find as many as I can. In the town, in the temple. There may even be some buried in the jungle."

Beclem cocked his head sideways. "And he sent you alone?"

"I came alone." Lucil dropped her gaze to the table. "But perhaps I will not leave alone." Then she lifted her chin and looked straight at Nooj, her eyes wide.

"Ah." Nooj's face was unreadable, and Beclem found that his hands were clenched again, gripping the tops of his thighs. To learn the truth of Spira's past... but was it worth it, if it meant working with the remnants of Yevon? Schooling his expression, he met Nooj's eyes with a small shrug; Nooj responded with a nod, then returned his attention to Lucil.

"I will have to think about it," he said. "By when you do need an answer?"

Lucil sat up. "It will take me a few days to search the island properly. You are welcome to join me at any time before I leave. Even if you choose to come to Bevelle later, I know that Lord Trema would be happy to have you both."

"All right." Nooj pushed his chair back. "We'll table the issue for now." He reached for his cane, but before he could stand, Beclem was already on his feet. He nodded a quick farewell to Lucil and then stalked out of the room toward the barracks, churning with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

-x-

Beclem cracked an eye open to see Nooj and Lucil standing in the hallway. Shaking his head to clear his brain of sleep, he noticed the orange rays of sunset filling his dorm room. The short nap he'd planned had stretched into hours; he had missed his second shift. "Damn," he muttered as he let himself drop back into his pillow. Even as he did so, he realized that he'd needed the rest -- the headache he hadn't consciously noticed before was gone, and he felt much calmer than before, the edgy energy that he'd been running on all day dissipated. He stared at the slats of the bunk above him, and thought.

"Beclem?" A sharp rap of metal on wood roused him again; he rolled up onto one elbow to see Nooj in the doorway, Lucil beside him.

He sat up quickly and started groping under the bed in search of a shirt. "Sorry I overslept."

"It's all right." Nooj gestured to Lucil. "We spent most of the afternoon talking anyway."

Beclem's fingers closed around a crumpled tunic; he yanked it free, shook out the wrinkles, then pulled it over his head. "So did you tell her? The truth about the operation, and about the Crimson Squad."

"He did." Lucil bowed her head. "Yevon was responsible for some terrible things, and I will never forget the part I played in them." She lifted her chin to meet Beclem's eyes. "But that was the old Bevelle. Trema is building a new order, built on honesty and truth, not secrets and lies. It will lead the way to a new Spira, and we will be a part of it." She glanced up at Nooj, who nodded.

Beclem looked from Lucil to Nooj. "You're going."

"I am." Nooj took a step into the room.

Beclem raised an eyebrow. "That was fast."

Nooj and Lucil exchanged a look, and then Lucil smiled at Beclem. "I'll leave you to discuss this. Perhaps I'll see you at dinner?" She left with a quick salute.

Nooj walked into the room and sat down on the bed across from Beclem's, ducking to avoid the edge of the top bunk. The mattress creaked as he settled into place; only then did Beclem notice the sphere he carried in his good hand, gleaming a soft yellow in the afternoon sun. "So."

"So." Beclem crossed his arms. "What happened to needing some time to think about it?"

Nooj shrugged. "Lucil was very convincing. As was this." He lifted the sphere, holding it at eye level. "After you left, she suggested that I join her on the exploration of the town. Spoke to a few people, visited the tavern and the inn. The innkeeper dug through a few things, and she found this. Here." Beclem held his hand out, and Nooj placed the sphere in his waiting palm.

Beclem raised the sphere into a beam of sunlight, watching the tiny movements of the recording glitter inside. "What's on it?"

"A blitzball match. The innkeeper thought it was probably about 40 years old." Beclem cocked his head in surprise; Nooj spread his hands. "I know, not an earth-shattering find. But we found this in a simple hour of searching. Imagine how much more could be found with real effort."

"It's tempting," Beclem admitted. "But can you really stomach Bevelle? Returning to the heart of Yevon, and all that would mean?"

"Lucil says Trema is a worthy leader, and I trust her. But even if she were wrong, I still think it's the right choice." A gleam popped into Nooj's eye. "Consider this, Beclem. I doubt we'd be spending much time in Bevelle. We'd be traveling Spira again, but without Sin at our backs. And we'd be seeking knowledge. Uncovering more evidence that will shine the light of truth on Yevon's lies. What better cause could there be?" His smile widened, and the sparkle in his eyes brightened, almost as though he were lit from within. Beclem couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Nooj look this eager. Not just determined, but actually excited. Almost happy.

Then the moment passed, and Nooj turned serious as ever. "I've made my decision. I'm going to Bevelle. I'll speak to Kal tonight about taking leadership of the rebuilding effort. Unless you want it?"

"Hah! I'm no carpenter, and I sure wasn't meant to do physical labor in the jungle. No thanks." Beclem leaned against the wall, his fingers still closed around the sphere. "I won't pretend I've been happy here. No offense, I know it's your home." He glanced at Nooj, who nodded. "But it's not mine, and I don't think it ever will be." The sphere was cool and heavy in his hands, his thoughts sliding around his brain like his thumb gliding across the smooth surface. He started out the window as he thought. Could he really do this? Even if Lucil and Nooj were right. Could he go back to Bevelle and work for the masters he swore he'd never serve again? But what if he passed up this opportunity to seek Spira's past, and regretted it forever?

He sat up, and Nooj turned, eyes focused on Beclem's face. "All right. I'll join you."

Nooj reached for the sphere, which Beclem returned. "Good." He placed the sphere in a pocket and stood, the floor creaking under his weight. "I'll find Lucil and let her know. She will be pleased you've decided to come." He smiled again, with surprising warmth. "As am I."

-x-

And so, only two months after packing up his life and getting on a boat, Beclem found himself doing it all over again. He stood at the edge of his cot and glanced over all his worldly possessions -- his knapsack, his helm and armor, and his pistol.

"Leaving already?" Beclem looked up to see Kal walking toward him with a hammer in one hand and a smile on his face.

Beclem nodded. "Lucil and Elma are taking a few days to search the island for spheres, but Nooj wanted to get to Bevelle and meet with Trema right away. So we're heading out now."

"Ah, that explains the quick packing job." Kal waved his hand over the small pile on the bed. "Good thing we've been trained to travel light, yeah?"

"Ha. Yes." Beclem fastened on his gun belt and holstered the pistol. "Seems like I just get started in a place, and then I'm gone. But I guess the Calm was never going to change everything." He checked the buckles on his knapsack one last time, tugging the straps to make sure they would hold. Then he looked back to Kal. "Sure you won't join us?"

Kal shook his head. "A long time ago, I promised myself that I was finished with Bevelle. I see no reason to go back on that now. Kilika needs me; it's where I belong."

"I understand. Still, if you change your mind..."

"I know." Kal set down the saw to lift his arm in salute, and Beclem returned the gesture. "And naturally you are more than welcome to come back." He dropped his arm, and his smile faded into a more serious expression. "Good searching, Beclem. I hope you figure out where you belong, someday."

"I already know that," Beclem replied, reaching for his knapsack and swinging it over his shoulders. "Wherever Spira needs me most, that's where I'll go."

Kal nodded slowly . "Of course. Well. Good luck, and safe sailing."

"You too." Beclem caught his friend in a quick embrace, then turned for the door, tucking his helmet under his arm. Nooj and the others would be waiting at the dock, and he was ready to get this new adventure underway.