Disclaimer: Bloodily not mine.
A/N: Written as part of my New Year fic giveaway on LiveJournal.
This Little Piggy
© Scribbler, January 2011.
It felt like her head was a pumpkin being carved out by an enthusiastic but talentless kid at Halloween; a constant dull scraping behind her eyes, pounding in her ears and, weirdly, making the inside of her nose vibrate with every breath. Earlier, she had been aware of pain running up and down her body like little electric jolts. Now it was confined just to her head, as if the power company had cut her off for not paying her bills. Unfortunately, the upshot of this was that she couldn't move. No power. Nothing. Not even the wherewithal to wiggle her pinkies.
C'mon, lil' pinkie. As philosophical remarks went, it wasn't a doozy. Wiggle for me. C'mon. Wig-gle. Wiggly wiggly. Move, damn it! If I can move you, I can move my legs; and if I can move my legs, I can get my carcass home –
"Yuffie!"
The hell?
"Hang on!"
To what? Bad-dum-bum. Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week. Or, y'know, forever, since I think I might actually be dying right now.
The funniest thing was, that wasn't even a joke. Her insides used to hurt in a way that meant something was broken, mushed, split, or all of the above. She couldn't feel that anymore, but basic medical knowledge (which, of course, Leon the Great Big Pain In the Butt made sure they all had) told her that was probably worse. Aerith once said that in triage, you went for the people who weren't screaming first. Numbness of pain receptors was a sign of major damage.
"Yuffie? Can you hear me? Yuffie? Yuffie!"
I can hear you just fine. I can't answer, but hearing doesn't take much effort.
"We heard your signal cut off. What the hell were you doing in the wastelands anyhow? You know I specifically said nobody is to leave Hollow Bastion unless they have back-up. There are still pockets of Heartless out there, for God's sake!"
Uh, hello? Major injuries are kind of an indicator that I know that. But don't worry; I beat 'em. And I had a real good reason for going out alone. I think. It's getting hard to remember … or think much at all … mrrf. Did I mention I beat the Heartless?
"Leon, she's fading. You have to let go and let me work."
Wait, I have to ... there's something I have to t-tell ... tell you, I think …
"Hurry, Aerith."
She shut down for a minute. Then, all her remaining senses blurred with sudden reintroduction of pain. She couldn't stop a violent shudder shaking her from head to toe. Something was screaming inside her head; a high, insistent wail that had no beginning or end. It was a raw vibration of agony – and with another shudder she realised it wasn't in her own head at all, but coming from her mouth.
Someone gathered her up and held her close until the shaking diminished to a quiver every thirty seconds or so, then every minute, and finally very couple of minutes. She unsquinched her eyes to meet a pair of unrelenting blue ones.
"What the hell," Leon gritted, "were you thinking?" A true Leon response. No touchy-feeling, oversentimental crap here. He was all hard edges and sharp corners, and he channelled any and all emotions into being pissed off. He was reliable that way; like he was reliable every way.
She risked a smile. The corners of her mouth were cracked and sore. Rotting in the sun before you were truly dead really took its toll on the skin. Moisturiser tonight. For defs.
"I followed a lead," she murmured, suddenly drowsy and fighting to stay awake.
"What lead? What the hell was worth nearly dying for?"
Pain of a different sort lanced through her. Thankfully, exhaustion was as good a numbing agent as near-death experience. He had decided the vague reports were too tenuous to risk any of their people investigating. but she had seen his expression and it had carved her up inside worse than swallowing glass. Almost as bad as she felt inside right now, having to say she had been successful. Damn it.
"I found Rinoa. Happy birthday, Squall …"
Fin.
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