The sky was the color of slate and the wind bit. The groaning ship slowly rolled and turned on the churning water. The sea gathered itself under the boat in an enormous swell, lifting it high in the air and suspending it there for a moment, then flattened itself under her, dropping her down again with sickening speed. Soaked through with seaspray and clenching his teeth against the rising nausea, Locke desperately gripped the railing and prayed for death.

"Sir?" A young mate stood behind him. "A little whiskey, sir?"

"What?" breathed Locke, unable to look up.

"Whiskey, sir," the boy repeated. "It helps sometimes, to get your sea legs about you." Locke held a hand up to the boy, dismissing him, and no longer able to stave it off, leaned over the railing and lost the very last of his breakfast. The boy turned away, a slight smile on his lips.

The voyage lasted just two days, among the longest of Locke's life, but then it was over, and he gratefully disembarked, unsteadily picking a path to the Chocobo stable. He did not go there to rent a ride, but to meet someone, he knew not whom. This was part of the instructions he had received from King Edgar. Edgar did not tell him who his contact would be; the King believed that the less everyone concerned knew about the big picture, the less chance there would be of identities and information leaking out to the wrong parties. Locke jumped at the hand suddenly on his shoulder. Setzer!

"Ah, so that's why you didn't make it to Figaro Castle," Locke said. "Been busy playing cloak and dagger here in Jidoor." Setzer smiled.

"Well, I did have a few things to do, yes. It's good to see you, old friend." Setzer draped an arm around Locke's shoulders, steering him to his parked transport. "How is our gorgeous Celes? Is she well? I understand that you're about to become a father again soon." Locke felt a stab of possessiveness, recalling his wife's close resemblance to Setzer's former sweetheart, Maria.

"My gorgeous Celes is quite well, thank you," Locke answered somewhat sharply, then he laughed, and Setzer's smile widened.

"I don't blame you, brother," Setzer chuckled. "I'd keep her under lock and key, if it was me." Realizing his unintentional pun, Setzer rolled his eyes and grinned at Locke, and they both guffawed.

Setzer guided the transport into a parking slip in front of a pub.

"I thought you might like to have an ale and a bite to eat," he said, slyly adding, "since you haven't had anything in your stomach in two days." Locke smirked and looked out the window.

"You know me too well, Gabbiani." When the transport had halted, the two friends climbed out and entered the pub. It was still early and the room was mostly empty. They picked a table near the back and sat. As Setzer looked around for a barmaid, Locke considered his friend. He greatly liked this man, and so did Celes, despite having earlier called him a bounder. Setzer had been Locke's best man, and Locke and Celes saw him on the occasions when they could get to Jidoor to celebrate a wedding anniversary. Setzer was a truly free soul, comfortable in his skin. There were no pretensions about him, as there were with Edgar, for instance, with his posturing, as there were even with Locke himself, who took things too much to heart and could be given to self-absorbed hand-wringing. The barmaid stepped up and took their food and drink orders, and when she moved away, Setzer leaned into the table.

"This is the place," he whispered to Locke. "This is where that Tzen fellow spilled his guts." Moving only his eyes, Locke looked over at the bar.

"Do we know what this man looks like?"

"Only that he appears to be somewhere in his forties, and always dresses in black, head to toe." answered Setzer. "It's kind of dark in here, not too many lights. The Figaro guy couldn't really describe his face. He didn't notice scars, or any other distinguishing features. But he stands out in a crowd, the Figaro man said, because he looks sort of creepy, not unlike Shadow." Locke looked up with interest, but Setzer shook his head. "Naw, couldn't be. This one was talkative. That would pretty much rule out Shadow." Locke nodded agreement. "The reason Edgar has pulled you into this, Locke, is because Jidoor is my home. People know me here, and it's no secret that I'm a Returner. If I hang out in this bar waiting for Mr. Black to show up, I'd be recognized. No Empire sympathizer is going to sit down next to me and start spilling secrets. Your face isn't well-known here in town, and besides, you're good at disguise. You could be anyone, from anywhere."

Locke sat in silence, listening, and thinking. If the man did come in, even if Locke could not get him to talk to him, he could follow him. If he could find out where he lived or where he went, Locke would be able to slip into his room and find out his name, and anything else about him that might be helpful. And if Locke was lucky, the man would lead him to friends, other Empire scum, and Locke could get information on them the same way. He leaned back in his chair, lost in thought. Setzer watched his friend with admiration. He didn't know what Locke was thinking, but whatever it was, Setzer would put his money on the young thief, every time, and without hesitation. The barmaid brought their food and ale, and the two men turned their attention to the meal.

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It was past midnight, and Locke lay in his room, hands behind his head, watching the ceiling. He was considering how he had jumped when Setzer had come up behind him at the Chocobo station. He hadn't heard a thing. Setzer could have been anyone, Locke thought, anyone at all. True, he had just come off a ship and was hardly himself, but that could be no excuse. He hoped he hadn't entirely lost his touch. Last time he had been involved in such dealings, he had been alone in the world, and hadn't had anything to lose. There's a certain strength in having nothing to lose, he thought. Locke turned onto his side and pulled his knees up to his chest. He remembered the night at the opera house, when Celes had sung in Maria's place, all part of Locke's own plan, in fact, to get Setzer and his airship to join the Returners. It was that night, Locke recalled, that he had first realized his love for Celes. He had been traveling with her for awhile then, and when it finally hit him that he was in love, he knew that it had been true for some time. He didn't know exactly when the feeling first started in him, only that, on that night at the opera house, she was a vision and he felt that he had to have her or die. He hadn't said anything, of course, only blushed like a kid. He'd had that unfinished business with Rachel then, and his guilt over her was so intensified by his love for this new woman, that he had been unable to even consider offering himself to Celes, although he knew perfectly well that, by then, she loved him too. But the impossible had become possible, thanks in no small measure to Rachel's generosity towards him, letting him off the emotional hook as she had, and freeing him of his burden of guilt. Rachel had been a good person; Locke hoped that she was in a better place. Now, there wasn't a day that went by in Locke's life, when he didn't feel a rush of gratitude for the way things had turned out. For his beloved Celes, and their three (almost four!) little ones, and for his life in South Figaro. Thank the stars! But this presented a problem to him now. He no longer had nothing to lose. Now he had a full life, and people who counted on him. Family and friends who loved him, and whom he loved and needed. He had happiness. His edge was gone. For the first time he could ever recall, Locke felt a sharp pang of fear. This was no good. He had better be careful. Oh Celes, I miss you! Sleep well, Angel. Locke began to drift off.

He must get her out; the tower was crumbling around them! Run, Celes! Run! Then he was hanging, suspended, looking up at her, and she clung to his arm, her face desperate.

"Hold on, Locke!" Celes screamed. "Don't let go! Don't let go!"

"I won't let go!" he hollered, but then he was falling away, faster and faster, watching his beloved's face as it receded into darkness.

Locke jolted awake, sitting up in bed, panting and sweating, his heart drumming inside his chest. He looked from side to side as if he had never seen the room before, then, blinking, he dropped back down onto the pillows, and slowly rubbed an arm across his forehead.

It was Locke's third night in Jidoor, and no one took note of the tired-looking ship's mate that had strolled into the pub near the port. Locke took a seat at the bar and, shoulders hunched, ordered a draught of ale. A ship's mate indeed, thought Locke. Anyone who knew him well would die laughing. But the fellow from Figaro had been a ship's mate, and the man in black had trusted him enough to have sat down next to him and started talking. So, a ship's mate it was. But so far, nothing. No one in black. Locke drank.

On the first night, Locke had checked into the biggest inn in Jidoor, and the innkeeper had recognized him. Locke had spent his honeymoon there, and he and Celes had come back on three of their five wedding anniversaries since then. He hadn't been around that much, but still the old bugger had recognized him. Locke hadn't expected that, and now regretted not having picked a smaller place, where no one knew him. He had checked out after the first night and moved to a room on the opposite side of town. Luckily, the old man had been around forever and was harmless. Still, that had been a stupid mistake on his own part. He would have to be more careful.

Shifting his eyes about the dimly lit barroom, Locke spotted him, at long last. A big rotund man dressed in black, from head to toe, sitting at a table drinking ale. He was alone, and did not appear to be seeking company. Don't want to talk, thought Locke, fine. I'll just leave right after you, see where you go. After an hour, Mr. Black, as Setzer had called him, stood to leave. Locke waited. He did not want to be seen following the man. Only when he disappeared out the door did Locke throw coins on the bar and step off the stool to go.

"Ho there, mate!" A short, bearded man stood blocking Locke's path. "They're signin' up crew for the Ulysses, I happen to know. She'll be bound for Thamasa day after tomorrow. You of a mind to join?" Locke politely smiled at the man and tried to walk around him. "Because Cap'n Banks, he sent a few of us around lookin' fer crew. You looked like you could use a job." Locke anxiously eyed the door. "Because if you could, use a job that is, well, you look like a right enough feller, and I could put in a good word fer ya. Wages are pretty good, too, as those things go." Locke sank back onto the bar stool. Fat Mr. Black would be long gone by now. Looking at the bearded man, Locke said,

"Sorry, friend. I just got off a voyage a couple of days ago. I'm taking a little break. But, thanks. Let me buy you one, just to show my gratitude." The little sailor happily took the next stool, and Locke sat listening to tales of the sea for the rest of the night.

The following evening, as Locke left his room on his way to the portside pub, he collared a young boy of about twelve.

"Listen, son," he said, handing the boy a folded bill. "I need a little favor." The boy stopped, brightening. "You know Setzer, Mr. Gabbiani?"

"Sure, mister," the boy answered. "Everybody knows who he is." Locke gave him a sealed envelope.

"You think you could get this over to Mr. Gabbiani for me, right away?"

"Oh, sure thing, mister! I won't let you down, sir!"

"What's your name, boy?" asked Locke.

"Tom, sir." the boy replied.

"Well, thank you, Tom. You're a good boy. Right away, now, you hear?" Tom nodded.

"Yes, sir, mister, right away!" Locke smiled and let go of the boy's shirt, and Tom took off at a run, towards Setzer's big house on the north end of town.

The letter arrived at Setzer's house within the half-hour, taken by his man and laid on a silver tray in the entry hall. Setzer had left instructions that he was not to be disturbed. Two gentlemen and two very comely ladies had joined him in a parlor richly decorated in red velvet, and the butler would not approach the parlor door until his employer rang for him. Setzer had a card game going, with four of his favorite wealthy, and easy, friends. He and his guests had been set up with food and drinks before they sat down at the gaming table, and would not have need of the butler for several hours. Locke's letter lay on the silver tray, untouched.

When Locke walked into the bar he was rewarded with the sight of Mr. Black already seated at a table, working on what looked to be his third stein. There were no other familiar faces. Last night's fiasco would not be repeated. His days' long wait was over. Tonight, one way or another, Locke thought grimly, progress would be made. As he took a seat at the bar, the stranger in black appeared to glance over at him. An alarm went off in Locke's mind. Did Mr. Black recognize him from last night, Locke wondered. Was the stranger suspicious of him? Get hold of yourself, Locke old boy! You're imagining things. But in truth, Locke wasn't at all sure he was imagining things. He wasn't comfortable with this situation. He should leave it alone, until he could set himself up in another disguise.

"Hello again, sailor." It was the barman. "Your usual, tonight?" Locke nodded, and the barman went away to fetch a draught of ale for the seaman. Even if the stranger recognizes me from last night, so what, Locke told himself, not wanting to spend any more time in Jidoor. I'm a sailor, that's all, just a common seaman in port for a couple of days. Mr. Black is not making anything of this. I only have to be careful not to let him see me if I have to follow him. As if reading Locke's thoughts, Mr. Black chose that moment to rise from his seat and head for the door. Locke's better judgment told him to stay put, things were too dicey. His heart, however, only wanted to get this job over so he could go home. Locke struggled.

When the barman brought the ale, there were coins where the young seaman had been sitting. He was gone.

Pulling his collar up, Locke ducked his head down and stepped out the door. Without lifting his head, he looked both ways, and saw Mr. Black just disappearing around a corner. Lightly stepping, Locke quickly went after him, careful to keep a distance away and to stay within the shadow of the buildings. Mr. Black walked up to the next corner and turned again. By the time Locke made the corner, Mr. Black had disappeared. Locke heard a small clatter in the alleyway just up ahead, and moved close to its entry. Peering around the edge of the building at the entrance to the alleyway, he saw Mr. Black unlocking a door at its end. Locke slipped into the alley, staying in the shadows. He slowly crept up nearer to the door Mr. Black had gone into. Suddenly, the stranger stepped back into the alley, facing Locke.

"Hello, Returner." Black said, sneering. His back to the wall of the building he had been creeping along, Locke strove to recover from his shock, to find a way out. At the entrance to the alleyway, two more men appeared. Locke began to breathe heavily, then, out of the corner of his eye, a glint of metal. Too late, his hand was on the hilt of the blade he carried. There was nowhere to run. Oh, God. Oh, Celes.

Setzer sat back with satisfaction, thousands richer than he had started the night. All his guests but one had left; only pretty Marceline remained. She stood behind his chair, her arms around his shoulders, whispering in his ear.

"I'm tired tonight, Marceline, and in no mood for a romp." laughed Setzer. "It's very hard work, winning away all your money!" As wealthy as she was pretty, Marceline laughed too, and stood to allow Setzer's servant to put her cloak about her.

"All right, Setzer. I'll be understanding tonight. Take care that I find no other girl dallying around here!" Chuckling, Setzer rose to see her to the door. Tipping Marceline's chin and kissing her, he promised to see her before the week was out. Setzer waited until his man had put her safely into her transport, then he turned to go back into the parlor. His eye caught something on the table. A letter. He tore open the envelope and began to read.

Setzer, caught sight of him finally last night. He didn't approach and I was unable to follow. Waylaid by a talkative patron. I didn't want to cause attention by acting strangely so had to let Black go. Hoping fat Mr. Black will return tonight and give me another shot at him. Will keep you posted. Locke

Setzer reread the note. Fat Mr. Black? But the stranger in black wasn't fat. He had told Locke that there had been no distinguishing features about the man! His stomach turning to ice, Setzer threw a cloak over his ruffled shirt and called for his transport. What were the chances that two different men would coincidently dress in head-to-toe black and hang out in the same bar? None, Setzer thought. This was a setup. He prayed that this Mr. Black had not returned to the bar tonight. He prayed that his friend still sat waiting. As he stepped into his transport, his butler called out to him. "Mr. Gabbiani! Mr. Gabbiani, you'd better come quickly!" The man sounded shaken. Setzer got back out of the transport and hurried to where the butler stood, in some bushes along the front doorway of Setzer's house. Setzer looked down. There lay Locke Cole, a knife pinning a note to his chest. It said: "Returners, go back the way you came." The knife was buried into Locke's chest. He was dying.

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