Brown Eyed Girl
Authors Note: I'm bored, it's a Thursday evening, I should be doing homework. So what?
Square owns characters, Van Morrison owns the title.
I've gotten careless. It's the only explanation. I can't really say I've gotten cocky, I always was. I was never careless. You don't get as good as I am by being careless. I was the best. Better even than Tzeng in his prime.
I knew someone was following me, had been since W.R.O. headquarters. Didn't think anything of it, probably just some poor sod going home, just like me, to an empty apartment and their own solitude. I couldn't have been more wrong.
The first gunshot sounds flat in the rain, followed instantly by a burning pain in my side. The second passes straight through my thigh and the third slams into my left shoulder. The pain is immense, flooding my system with agony as I fall to the pavement, bleeding profusely. The rain continues to fall as the muted footsteps of my attacker approach.
He stands over me now, looking down with me with a hatred I've never seen before on a human face. I continue to bleed, my senses dulling so much that I can barely hear the sound of my shooter ranting at me. He begins to calm down, pointing his gun at me once more, as my life is slowly leaking away. If this is the end, so be it. I don't care anymore. I just don't care.
I regain clarity of thought and of my senses for a few moments. I look into the face of the man gazing down on me. The words "…ready to die?" are all I hear from his lips. The only response I can give is a weak "Bite me." I close my eyes, not wanting to see the muzzle of the gun flash, the millisecond prolonged into hours as the bullet makes its way towards my skull.
The final shot is even fainter than the others. I feel nothing. I must be dead then. You don't feel if you're dead, do you? The darkness greets me.
&&&
A feeling much like running water flows over by entire body. The darkness that seemed to cover me lifted, and the dead weight on my body shifted and was dumped to one side. I could no longer feel the pain that had so filled my body mere moments ago.
My eyes flicker open and the bright yellow light shining in them dazzles me. My gaze shifts around, looking with a detached calm on the body of my would-be killer. My eyes flick up once more, looking at the silhouette that has replaced him. It is several inches shorter and far more female in shape. The figure steppes out of the glare caused by the streetlight, leaving me staring into the concerned brown eyes of my rescuer. She still holds her gun in her right hand, the materia inlaid into the butt of the weapon still glowing. I offer a small smile as I lay on the rain-soaked street, three charred holes in my black suit, all lined with blood, but with no corresponding holes in my body. She offers a quick grin in return, and asks "Having fun down there Turkey?". She offers her free leather-gloved hand to me, which I take with a muttered "Punk". She hauls me to my feet, checking for any injuries she could have missed. Her eyes return to my face, to find me staring down at her.
Before I can stop it, the word "Thanks" escapes from my lips and into the air between us. She smiles again, her white teeth flashing in the darkness. She slips her pistol back into the holster under her suit jacket.
"No problem," she replies. "Now lets get out of here before anything resembling the law arrives."
"Good idea, rookie."
"Shut up Reno." She hits me. "It's been 6 months since I started. Be glad I did or you'd probably be lying on the ground bleeding to death right now."
I smirk, "Okay then, so how do I repay you?"
"You'll think of something." She replies, "After all, you're the one with the imagination."
"Fine." With that I grab her arm, spin her around, push her against a wall and crush my lips down on hers. For a couple of seconds she acts stunned, then responds fiercely. We spend about thirty seconds like this, against the wall, my hands on her hips, hers in my hair. Eventually I break off, to see how she responds. She breathes out shakily, one hand still in my hair, the other resting on my chest. She gazes into my eyes, and I back into hers, those beautiful brown ones that are so often filled with one emotion or another. Finally, she gives a smirk that would have rivalled one of my own, before fisting her hands in he lapels of my jacket and bringing my lips back down to hers.
&&&
There's no such thing as happily ever after. But what we have is so close to it.
Authors Note: This was finished at midnight so if it's crap then I'll understand. I don't know how Yuffie became a Turk either. She just did. Hope you didn't hate it but even if you did give me your own personal views so I can improve. Another two hours of my life wasted. Now for sleep. 'Night.