Some cadets said you were at your most alive when you were either running for, or fighting for, your life. Certainly the senses were ratcheted to their most intense levels. Colors and sounds and smells and sensations were etched into the mind in ways that would emerge in nightmares that would last for the rest of your life.

Of course, that probably wasn't hard if the rest of your life could be measured in seconds, was Squall's sour opinion even as he used his gunblade as a pole to launch himself in a running vault jump over some idiotic Dolletian noble's idea of a decorative crenellation. Slender hook lines clawed into it right after he cleared it and plastered himself flat against the opposite wall, producing a wide-eyed Zell and Selphie in short order.

"Did - was that - what it looked like?" was Zell's panted, incredulous question. It was hard to tell if he thought it was the most terrifying or most flat-out amazingly cool thing he'd ever seen.

"Giant...spider..." nodded Selphie, catching her breath. "What. The. Hell."

Sweet Hyne, the thing was huge. Huge, armored better than the entire Dolletian army and probably bigger than the collected corpses of it. And self repairing. And "It's catching up," Squall panted. "Have to keep moving."

"Charge it," Zell offered, pushing himself upright. "Buy ourselves more running time."

Squall spared only a glance at Selphie - just enough to understand she'd go along with any plan offered at this point, and reserve all judgment about its relative sanity. "Keep us alive," he advised her, and gave Zell a small nod. He grinned, wide and wild-eyed. (But then, he was one of those who thought the edge of the fight was the place where living was done best.) For Squall it wasn't exhiliration. He would never admit it aloud, barely admitted it to himself, but as Zell leapt from the crenellation onto the upper hull of the steel spider-thing and started pounding...

What he felt was terror.

Terror that pushed him over that edge after Zell, froze his face into a stony, expressionless mask. Terror that burned the smell of hot wires and oil and grease into his memory. Terror that sharpened every line and miniature crevasse of the construct as if lit by a hundred suns five inches away. Terror that coiled muscles tighter than any spring or junction ever could, terror that drove his blade to cleave steel and wire together. Drew hard on Quezacotl's junction to make his movements blurringly fast, fire debilitating surges of electricity into the creature, overloading circuitry and melting wires.

Terror that this time, that idiot really might get himself killed.

Squall was no raw greenhorn to battle, not by now, and neither was Zell. Terror - especially this terror - was an old companion, understood and used as he used any other resource at his disposal. Zell laughed a free, delighted laugh as his punches locked metal joints and twisted the metal limbs, limiting the spider's movements. A spray of bullets from one of the gun-turrets peppered them both, but had little time to do more than throw them some distance before the cold tingle of Selphie's spells closed and mended the wounds. The pain only served to heighten the adrenaline rush, the smear of blood along Zell's shirt driving him more than the unnoticed holes in his own shirt and jacket.

Their movements were so in tune as to seem almost choreographed. The moment blade and fist had done enough damage to shut the spiderthing down, even temporarily, Squall and Zell turned on their heels and fled for the shore, Selphie catching up not half a moment later.

"Race ya!" was Zell's laughing call, as if any of them could go faster than they were - leaping over low walls, running over the hoods and roofs of cars as if they were a gang of freerunners out for exercise. There was no time to waste in going around, and Squall's stomach churned as he heard the thonk, thonk, Thonk, Thonk of the spiderthing behind them, already repaired and in pursuit. Run. Just run. When Selphie tripped on a loose stone and stumbled, both Squall and Zell automatically caught an arm as she flailed briefly in front of them, dragging her until her feet got under her again. No time to stop. Not for anything. The city went by in a blur, down, down...

The sight of the transport was nothing to the sight of Quistis in a gun turret, solving the unsolvable problem with a classic approach: more bullets, and a bigger gun. The three of them half-staggered onto the craft, almost slamming into the far interior wall because slowing down was too much effort. The three landed in a tangled pile as the doors closed behind them, listening to the scraping of the beach fall away from the hull as the engines roared. Safe...safely away.

Even that relief didn't blind Squall to the reality of Zell collapsed against him, relaxed and laughing with the adrenaline rush and relief at their escape. Perhaps that was why Zell -grinning, laughing, flushed with the exertion - enveloped him in a bear hug before rolling away. "Oh, man. That was a run. Let's not do that again anytime soon, huh?"

As hyped as Squall was on the adrenaline and fading fear, he knew that this memory would last a long while yet. Probably destined to resurface in the middle of the night at random intervals for the indefinite future; he would have declared war on his subconscious long ago if he could have. Selphie contented herself with a pat on his shoulder as she found a more comfortable bench to collapse on, leaving Squall the last to get to his feet. The sound of Quistis' heels spurred him to move - the last thing he wanted right now, with his voice and body shaking with the comedown, was an extended debriefing on why his captain hadn't been with them. He climbed up on the deck instead, where the wind and sea spray were calming, cooling. Cleansing.

It was quiet up here, relatively speaking. The sea, the wind, the engines - just background sounds, steady sounds. They'd gotten through the mission even with Seifer running off and giant robots chasing them. Was it enough? Would they finally have the scores needed to make the grade? SeeDs had rooms to themselves. There would be no more of Zell's breed of personal antics. No more time to study Zell when he wasn't talking, fighting, exercising.

Maybe...maybe it was for the best, really. In all their years sharing a room there had never been the slightest sign that Zell held anything but friendship for him. A strong friendship, a class of loyalty and trust all its own...but no more than friendship, when it came down to it. SeeDs did not have time to dwell on what was not, Squall was sure. Just time to dwell on what was.

"Thought you'd be up here," came Zell's voice behind him; he didn't turn. "I asked myself, 'where's the most lonely, miserable place with a view on this boat?' And the answer just, you know, came to me."

Now was really not the time. But Zell never seemed to worry about that. Squall shrugged, declining comment. There wasn't much to say.

Zell put an arm around Squall's shoulders, enveloping him in a brief comradely hug. "What's got you moody?" he asked. "Thinking we didn't make it, or that we did?"

"Does it matter?" evaded Squall, keeping his face and voice expressionless.

"We made it," Zell nodded firmly. "There's like, no damn way we couldn't. We did the job even with Seifer flaking out. But you know, I don't care? I can try again next year. I'm just full of happy warm glow knowing Seifer didn't. That no matter what we did or didn't fuck up, I never have to deal with that bastard again. He can't take the test again, he definitely couldn't have passed. That means he's washed out. Right out of Garden. I mean life can only be better when things like that happen. Whether I made it or not is just kind of a bonus, right?"

Squall blinked. There was a valid point in there. Absently, his hand came up to touch the healing scar that Seifer had left him with. "Right," he agreed quietly, his eyes on the waters ahead.

Zell moved to stand next to him. Right next to him, his arm against Squall's, almost touching at the hip. But the bow is narrow, Squall reminded himself. And he's got no sense of boundaries. "Look...Squall..." he asked hesitantly. "I mean...I don't want to be rude or anything. I know I haven't been the easiest guy to live with. Not that you're a picnic yourself, mind, but ...well. You know."

No, I don't. Squall slanted a look at him, narrow-eyed. "What are you talking about?"

Zell grinned, but it was if anything more than a touch sheepish. "Well. SeeDs get their own rooms, right? And I know you're probably looking forward to that. Space of your own and not having to deal with my stuff."

Squall just blinked, waiting. He was pretty sure he couldn't have said anything even had he had something to say. Had he gotten it wrong? Did the two of them want the same thing, after all? Frozen in place, Squall's mind raced over the past several weeks. Searching quickly for signs, any signs, that he might have misread. It would be so...dramatic, so stupid, to be right next to the object of his affections for so long and not know it was returned....

"I just...we're still gonna be friends, right?" asked Zell hesitantly. "It wasn't all just so we wouldn't kill each other sharing a room, was it?"

Slowly, Squall reached forward with gloved hands and gripped the railing. The cloth hid the fact that he was doing so tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. Long practice at shutting himself away kept any trace of emotion from his face, from his voice. All normal. All commonplace. It was his own damn fault. He had known Zell most of his life. Wild hopes raised and dashed - that was no one's fault but his own, the pain no one's fault but his own. Zell was Zell. He loved the man for who he was. And if 'who he was' was occasionally the most blind human being on the face of the planet, well, that was just part of the package and any inability to deal with it was Squall's own fault.

"...Squall?" asked Zell, worriedly. "Um. Maybe I better -"

Squall's hand shot out to grab Zell's arm and hold it; Zell's blond eyebrows reached for his hairline. It was everything Squall could do, to stop himself pulling Zell into a hug that would require explanations and probably result in several days of jokes from a man who couldn't understand their real meaning. So he moved his hands quickly, holding either side of Zell's face firmly. Making him look Squall in the eyes.

"I. Am. Always. Your. Friend," said Squall firmly, looking Zell squarely back into blue eyes. I am a lot more than that if you'd just open your eyes. But he couldn't force that. He couldn't make Zell be someone else. Even as Zell blushed, embarrassed at apparently offending him, he let Zell go and turned back to his view of the sea. There was so much more to say, but even Squall's self control had limits. And right now far too much of him wanted to scream. Or kiss Zell so hard, so thoroughly, that even he could be left in no doubt of the nature of Squall's feelings. The risk was too high; he would rather have Zell's friendship, blind and occasionally hurtful as it was, over nothing at all.

"Sorry," Zell mumbled. "I knew that. Honest."

No. No, you don't. "Get some rest," said Squall quietly. "We've still got debriefing."