A/N: One-shot Gippalai with some nice and not-so-nice implications. Nothing too special, but for some weird reason, I really like to write about people in the morning (though I'm definitely not a morning person, it must be said). This is the closest to a winter fic I could come… Hey, the snow counts for something, right?

Rumors

As soon as Gippal's eye opened, he snapped it shut. It was bright. It was morning. It was…

…White outside, he realized as he turned his focus to the giant windows to the side of Baralai's bed. It must have snowed.

Gippal had never been one to be comfortable around articles of grandeur – he preferred things simple – but he did love those windows. It was probably more the light that illuminated this room than the windows themselves that captivated him.

Baralai had an engaging personality, but Gippal was sure that no one could tell it by looking at his room. The sheets and walls were entirely white, and the furnishings, though they were of dark, shiny wood, were few in number.

It was as if Baralai was purposely refraining from leaving any imprint of himself in this place. Or so it seemed to Gippal, at least.

It was the light that filled in the cracks between the floorboards, splashed color onto the walls, and gleamed off Baralai's tan skin and rumpled bed hair.

Gippal's breath caught in his throat. No matter how many times he had seen Baralai like his, the sight never failed to elicit the same reaction from him.

The sunlight created an illusion – Baralai looked warm. However, Gippal knew better. The air in Bevelle Temple was cool all year round, and the light was mainly reflecting off the fallen snow. Still, it didn't stop him from edging closer. Baralai, like everyone else in the Crimson Squad, was a light sleeper, so he had to be very careful…

But it was freezing. He could take chances.

His initial enthusiasm for snow had worn off quite soon. The first time he had ever seen snow, Gippal had run out and clenched fistfuls of it, only to find that it was painfully chilly to the point where he felt it in his bones. It had taken about ten minutes before he retreated to the safety of the temple, panting obscenities the whole time. He had seen it alone, without Baralai. It wasn't his original plan, but then, that was when Baralai had left him to take care of personal matters in the temple.

"Mmm…"

Gippal froze, studying Baralai's face for any signs that he might wake up. Just when he was about to rest against that comforting warmth, sure that he was only hearing noises made in sleep, he saw the glint of dark eyes beneath darker eyelashes.

"Gippal…?"

"Sorry, I was cold." He slid an arm over Baralai's chest and nestled closer, burying his face into the crook between his neck and shoulder. "I was gonna let you sleep in for once, though."

"Ah… It is cold… Oh, it snowed," he noticed, stretching slightly.

"I'm so happy about that," Gippal muttered sarcastically, casting disapproving glances out the window.

There was a pause before Baralai finally murmured, "Thank you for coming yesterday."

Gippal laughed faintly, sleepily, forgetting about the snow. "I couldn't just leave you to get drunk here by yourself after Paine told me about what happened. I guess I owe her one. No offense, but I'm never getting really drunk with you and Nooj again after last time."

"That was terrible," Baralai agreed with a yawn.

"I know. I've never seen Nooj act so gay, and he's not even hot. It scared the shit out of me." Gippal grimaced. "And…waking up wearing a bra changes you. It does things to your head."

"Hmm." Baralai pursed his lips. It made him look like he was thinking, but in actuality, he was probably trying to stifle laughter.

Gippal could just tell that he was about to drop something. "What?" he questioned, eying him closely for any signs of impending doom.

"I'm trying to remember if it was Rikku's…" Baralai raised an eyebrow, managing to maintain a perfectly contemplative expression.

Baralai may have had the face of an innocent, but Gippal knew better than anyone that it wasn't the most accurate representation. He knew what buttons to push, and he did push them.

In more than one type of situation, if Gippal's memory served correctly. But even that wasn't enough to let him get by on this one.

"Don't take advantage of the fact that I won't rip you a new one, Baralai," Gippal mumbled affectionately against the soft skin of his throat.

"You make it sound like a bad thing."

"Hey, I said a new one. Nothing about old ones. And…" He smirked here, because he loved to remind Baralai of this. "…I'm stunned that the Praetor of all people would be speaking that way."

"I don't think that you should call me that anymore," Baralai reminded him.

Gippal was silent, remembering what he had been waiting for Baralai to tell him. Baralai had put up with this for a few years, so why now? "What was the actual reason you quit, anyway?"

"It was everything." Baralai turned his head to look out the windows, but Gippal doubted that he was seeing anything. "That and…Gippal, they know."

"About me?" Just thinking that he was the cause of Baralai being scorned sent waves of uneasiness coursing through him. "I kind of thought they already knew…"

"No one outright accused me of anything, but they do know about you and…Seymour."

Anger flared up in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to kill a dead man, one who could never die enough deaths as far as he was concerned. "That wasn't your fault. They can't pin that to you, Baralai."

But they probably did. He didn't even know them on a personal level, but he knew that the bastards must have done just that.

"The truth is more humiliating than what they're thinking, so let them believe what they want to."

"You shouldn't say that."

"But it's true." Baralai slung an arm over his eyes, blocking out the sunlight.

Gippal dug his fingernails into a palm. He didn't want to think about Seymour, about any of this. "You're pretty young in comparison to most of them, but you've accomplished more than they have. Maybe that's why…"

"Sometimes I feel…so old."

Gippal stared at him for a moment, thinking about that among other things. Inside, Baralai was so much older. One glance at his face – so young-looking that it was a poor indicator of his years – could trick people into thinking otherwise.

"Who's taking your place?" Gippal wanted to know, though he already had a good guess.

"Issaru." Baralai smiled grimly. "They may be rid of me, but they won't be rid of my ideals." He bit his lip. "I have to admit that I don't know what I'm going to do at this point."

"Come live with me," Gippal immediately offered. "You never even had to ask, y'know."

"I won't be able to help you," Baralai told him just as quickly. Evidently, he had already considered the idea. "It'd be too hard to live without a sense of purpose."

"You don't have to help me. Just think of what you're going to do as you go along." Gippal brushed his lips against Baralai's ear, waiting.

"I will if they won't –"

"They won't mind," Gippal assured him. "They really like you over at Djose. A lot. Just think things through." He gazed at him seriously, aiming to persuade.

"If it's all right, then…" Baralai slid his arm down from his face and met Gippal's eye with his own two.

"Yeah." Gippal managed a weak smile.

He thought of how, every single day, Baralai must have seen glimpses of people who no longer existed, invisible bloodstains, and the shadows of long-gone cages hanging from ceilings. To hear whispers, real and remembered, to feel the ice-cold fingers of the past wrap around his throat –

"Why did you ever go through all this in the first place?" Gippal asked, finding his voice strangely hoarse.

Baralai looked away. "I wanted to make a change. And with change comes sacrifice."

"Baralai…" He discovered that he could barely speak as he sat up and held the plain white sheets to his chilled skin. It only took one more look in Baralai's direction to make him feel like he was crumbling. "What did you give for it?"

Baralai didn't reply.