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Author's Notes: Written for the livejournal community "Philosophy_20". Theme is "Ends justify the means." This fic ended up longer than I thought, and is separate from my other Baralai/Isaaru works. Enjoy.



He means to kill him. I know this because I see it in his eyes. Sharp, intelligent, and blue, but they are marred by future murder. I understand because even though we have only known each other for a couple months, I know that Isaaru's heart beats to tradition and learning from the past.

Trema believes that such a person is a useless relic, one to be thrown away along with history, but he never does throw the former Summoner away. I never bother to figure out why because I am glad to have Isaaru around. But now? All I want is for him to leave, go far away where he and his little brother would be safe. Safe from the viper's nest, safe from the king of vipers, and above all, safe from Isaaru's own shadow side.

The flask glints in the sunlight that isn't covered by heavy drapes. Inside it is a clear liquid that looks to be sparkling. It's ironic, really, because it's light will cause death in one, and darkness in the other.

I can't have that.

"In here is a poison that cannot be smelt or tasted. When ingested, it mimics a heart attack." Isaaru says with his voice made of silk. When we first met, he sounded cheerful and kind. Now, he sounds like someone willing to turn silk into a hanging rope. "It won't be difficult to put a little in Trema's favorite meal, and then the disaster he has prepared for all of Yevon's children will die with him."

"Don't." Is all I can say.

He frowns. "What?" His gloved hand curls around the flask. "You can't possibly sympathize with him."

"I don't." I shake my head. Of course, I don't. I don't want all those spheres destroyed anymore than Isaaru does, but there has to be another way. "You know I don't, but this isn't right."

"What is 'right', Baralai?" Isaaru demands while the poison disappears in the depths of his sky colored robes. "To let Trema get away with his actions? To stand aside and allow him to destroy Spira's past?" He takes a step forward. "Do you believe that is the right things to do?"

"No, of course not, but there must be another way."

"There isn't."

The finality of Isaaru's tone makes my stomach drop, yet I'm not surprised. I haven't known him for very long, but I know his resolve. Not much of a surprise either. One can't be a Summoner without plenty of resolve. Still, I have to find a way to stop him or he will become something worse than Trema.

"Don't you realize that by killing him, you end up becoming a monster? Maybe not completely, but no amount of good would ever make up for murder."

He sighs. I can no longer see his eyes. "Baralai, you've been in Bevelle long enough to know what this place is like." He looks up without his murderous look. "Even if you haven't, then you should know what all of Spira can be like. Not all murder is evil. Believe me, Baralai, this is a happy dead because it will lead to happiness for New Yevon."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Murder, Isaaru? Must you be like all the old corrupt Priests? Must you be like Seymour?"

Isaaru takes a step forward. "I am defending these hallowed halls from a monster who wants to erase everything. I told you not all murder is evil."

"But, there are still consequences." When he glares at me, I quickly add, "I won't say anything, I swear that, but it isn't punishment that I worry about. It's you. You would have taken a life, and it would forever stain you. How would you live with yourself? What would your brothers think? They follow your example."

Isaaru answers all too easily for my comfort. "Maroda is in Mushroom Rock Road, and Pacce is too young to understand. Besides, neither one of them know, and they never will. As for me, I will live with myself quite easily. I know that parts of my soul will be stained by this, but you have to understand that sometimes one must dirty themselves to clean another."
He stands close to me, patchouli and vetiver invading my nose, piercing my mind. He smells like bottled malediction. "I must do this. The only other alternative is to let Trema have free reign, and in doing so, put ourselves and all we hold dear in danger."

How could I argue with that? Yes, murder is terrible, but I know Trema's goals and I know what they could do to Isaaru and those like him. Still, I try. "Then please leave. Take your brother and leave. Go to Zanarkand; not even Trema would touch you there. I can give you whatever spheres I can and you can hide them there."

"Forgive me, Baralai, but I can't accept that." Isaaru shakes his head. "He'd still be alive and you alone are not enough to stop him."

"I won't be alone," I insist. "I have the support of the guard and the acolytes. Eventually, they will be more than enough to force Trema to step down, and no one has to die."

"So long as Trema is alive, spheres will be destroyed." Blue eyes harden once more. "I cannot allow that. History is what makes this world. Without it, we learn nothing, we become nothing. The past defines us all, and should it ever be destroyed, then so would everything and everyone. What I do could never compare to the evil of history being erased."

I press my lips together, contemplating his words. Is the past really worth more than an old man's life? Isaaru seems to think so, but I don't know what to think at this point. "Isaaru..." I close my eyes, refusing to accept what he is saying, but unable to come up with any further arguments.

Isaaru puts his hand on my shoulder. "You have to remember what he can do. You've seen it and so have I. My deed will not just be to save the past, it will be to your benefit too. To both of our benefits. I know what you really seek." I open my eyes, and that simple gesture makes him smile. "You wish to lead Bevelle. It's obvious only to me because I seek the same thing."

"Is that the real reason why you want him dead?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No. You know the reasons." He shrugs. "I am loathe to admit this, but you are far more suited. You...you would accept change more readily than I, and yet you will make certain that things are done step by step rather than rushing foolishly into things." Isaaru begins to massage my shoulder and I wish he'd do that to my whole body. "Besides, you are far more temperate than I." His smile is laced with an accepting sadness. "I do all this for all beyond myself. For all those who stand to lose to the likes of Trema, and I do this for you. I am willing to sacrifice my own ambition and my own soul for your ascension to power."

I have enough. I gently hold his hand to my chest. "Then let me do it." His eyes widen, I tighten my grip. "You say that one must dirty himself to cleanse others? I will dirty myself." I'm tempted to look away while I remember looking to Seymour to hide my own past so that I may forge a future for Spira. I don't though. I continue to hold Isaaru's hand while my eyes try to mimic his resolve. "He trusts me more than he trusts you, and poison may not be a guarantee. I can make Trema's death a certainty."

"Baralai, he is very powerful--"

"I know, but I feel that the use of poison is far too risky. I know what to do. It will involve the loss of some spheres--"

Isaaru takes a step back. "Baralai, that's not what I want."

I take a step forward, ensuring that his hand remains over my heart. "You yourself implied that sacrifices must be made for the greater good. I can't have all the spheres hidden, because it would arouse suspicion. Some have to be destroyed to have everything we need saved." Isaaru looks downward, thinking the way I did mere minutes ago. "I can do this. I will do it."

"How?" Worry laces his soft voice. "You won't be using poison."

"No. Trema intends to go to Via Infinito now that all the guardians there are in place. I will go with him, and when he is finished with the spheres he amassed, I will kill him." I say this as if I never said anything to Isaaru about his plans. I sound as if I'm telling the former Summoner what I had for lunch today. I never thought this would happen, but then, I never thought that either one of us could guiltlessly plot the death of another. "I have a gun, and I'm trained to use it."

"Machina." Isaaru blinks before shaking his head. "I...I..."

"If his life is to end, then it must be in the most efficient way possible. I will leave him in Via Infinito, so he could spend his afterlife as an unsent yearning for an ideal that will never happen. No one will suspect because all I have to do is tell everyone that Trema chose to remain down there."

"Hmm...I see." His smile returns, pleasing me with a light that rivals the sky. "Yes, it's perfect. You will make a fine leader of New Yevon."

I can't help but sigh. "I don't like this, but the way you say things."

Isaaru moves his hand from my chest to the nape of my neck. "You know I am right."

I nod. "Yes, I know." His hand feels wonderful against my skin. "Please, leave. I don't know how long it would take for Trema to go back to that place. Please, go to Zanarkand with Pacce. I will give you all the spheres I can for you to hide where ever you wish, and I will send for you when the time is right."

"I understand." Now both his hands cup my cheeks. I want him to kiss me, but I don't think he will. "When the time comes, do not hesitate. Remember the end result."

"I will." I embrace him, smelling the strong patchouli vetiver, and savoring it. We both become shadows as clouds obscure what is left of the sun.