AN: This past term kicked my ass, so as much as I wanted to update this faster, I ended up just getting this done as spring break comes to a close. There is hope though for faster updates for sure this time as this is my final college term and the least amount of credits I've taken since I started. Thank you to all those who read and especially to those who reviewed (h34rt1lly, I'm very grateful.) Without further ado…
Chapter Three
Take a breath
Hold it in
Start a fight
You won't win
Had enough
Let's begin
Nevermind
I don't care
-What Lies Beneath, Breaking Benjamin
Eager to put as much distance between them and the weapon shop as possible, Seifer led the way through the winding city streets to where the pub sat in an almost hidden courtyard at the edge of the city. Quistis stopped shy at the entrance, pulling him back towards the street.
"We should get the tickets first," she suggested.
He shrugged and followed her. "Fine," he half-grumbled, wondering why they couldn't do that after they'd eaten, especially as the station to Balamb was back the way they'd come, past the Maniacs building.
Wishing he'd had the mind to insist on breakfast before they left his shack—he'd had bread and eggs that he'd left behind and was quite adept at making a fire—he glared at her back the entire way to the station.
Quistis chatted up the conductor behind the counter while he hung back, trying not to look as annoyed as he felt. The conductor gave her an indulgent smile as pulled two tickets from his roll and took the Gil she handed him.
"You two have nice trip," he said, loudly as she walked away from the counter.
"We leave at 11:30," Quistis said quietly as they left the station. "I bought civilian passes but I have the code for the SeeD compartment so we'll be able to avoid any other travelers."
"Great. Can we go eat now?" Seifer asked as his stomach gurgled painfully. He hadn't eaten dinner the night before—hadn't thought about it really. He was so used to living his days out one at a time. It was amazing what six months in the bare bones of "luxury camping" could do for a man.
Now, coming back to the life he'd been born into, he was already missing the lazy draw and easy rules of endless time—eating when one is hungry chief among them.
"Sure," she said, "We have about forty minutes."
He led the way across the tracks that went to Galbadia and back down the streets to the stairs leading to the pub's courtyard. It was empty, which was pretty standard for the hour, anyone not already inside would be off doing whatever they were paid to do.
As they stepped into the large room that smelled heavily of cheap beer and cigarettes Seifer took in the layout. He'd been there before with Raijin and Fuijin, not two months before, but he was pretty sure the massive screen covering the far wall had gotten bigger, and the table set up had changed, replacing the old heavy wooden relics with several smaller round tables that were set up so that every seat could face the new screen. They'd taken out the barrels and extra shelving along the wall to add more seating but had left the Triple Triad playing area in the back. The long, old fashioned bar top was also the same, he noted, as were the faded black leather padded barstools but all of them were empty. What few patrons were visiting at this early hour were gathered at the tables in front of the screen watching the recently commissioned Gaea News.
The people of Timber breathed gossip like it was air so even though he'd avoided the town as much as possible he knew that the Gaea News ran twice daily at eleven and eleven and that they were based right there in Timber, running out of the now fully functional TV Station. It had been all people could talk about when it had been announced a month after the war had ended, and now, although it was old news, the people of Timber still liked to sit and watch their own up on the screen when they got a chance. The nighttime showing was more popular, but there were a good half-a-dozen people there now watching the very popular Cathy Pear smile from what he recognized as the road leading to where Balamb Garden's home had been.
He scooted closer to hear as the view switched to a birds-eye shot of Balamb Town.
"The re-building started in Balamb today. The memorial held for those lost during the Balamb Missile Crisis ended with a lovely speech by Balamb Garden's Headmaster, and now Garden Inc. CEO, Cid Kramer."
The Headmaster appeared on the screen and Seifer set eyes on him for the first time since the night of the SeeD Graduation Ball. He looked old, he thought, and although he was smiling brightly for the camera, the twinkle that had always been so damn irritating was missing from his eyes, and in its place were deep lines of fatigue.
"A ground-breaking ceremony commenced after the occasion marking the start of the effort to rebuild the structures lost when the Garden took flight," Cathy said, off-camera, then Cid spoke.
"The plans have been in the works for quite some time, but it wasn't until recently that Garden had the means to carry them out."
The shot switched back to the woman, "It couldn't have come soon enough for the citizens of Balamb. Those displaced and affected by the latest Sorceress War—or the Ultimecia Wars as they have come to be known by many—have been grateful for the jobs created by this project. The mayor of the City of Balamb has been quoted saying that, "Balamb is whole-heartedly welcoming Garden Inc.'s continued presence in their country.""
"That's good to hear, Cathy," the male anchor, said off camera, "but what of the trials? The citizens of Gaea would like to know how Headmaster Kramer plans to defend the actions of the Sorceress Edea and her renegade knight—and former student of Garden—Seifer Almasy."
"I asked the Headmaster how he felt about the upcoming World Summit but he politely declined to comment, back to you Dan."
Seifer turned, meeting Quistis' eyes from where she stood frozen a few feet away, but she didn't look surprised at the news just wary of his reaction. He crossed to her, opened his mouth, but she shook her head, almost imperceptibly, and he knew what she meant. Now wasn't the time to discuss it. Not many were paying attention to the newcomers, but the room was both quiet and cavernous which meant that any conversation would be broadcast for all to hear.
Quistis tensed, looking at something over his shoulder before grabbing his arm. "Maybe we should just go to the station," she whispered edging him toward the door.
"I'm hungry," he said, putting the brakes on. There would probably be food on the train, but if there was it would be nothing like what was served in the Pub. She dropped her arm, running an agitated hand through her hair and he frowned at her trying to catch her eye, but hers were planted firmly on an old man, a local who practically lived at the bar.
"I see ya found 'im," the man said tipsily making his way over to them, a wide sloshed smile on his wrinkled face.
Seifer raised an eyebrow but Quistis was still ignoring him in favor of the man who lifted a hand to pat Quistis' shoulder, or what should have been her shoulder, but ended up being the top of her breast.
Seifer's eyes narrowed dangerously as he fought a knee-jerk reaction that would have him both removing the man's hand forcibly—possibly from his body entirely—and shoving Quistis behind him.
Rationality barely won out over instinct, helped by the man removing his hand as he continued on, obliviously, "I'm so happy fer ya."
It was none of his business anyway, he told himself, Quistis could handle one drunken lout. Yet he still had to clench his hands to keep from grabbing her as Quistis let his arm go when the man took a step forward and stumbled into her.
Quistis, of course, either was oblivious or was doing a perfect job of appearing that way; placing a steadying hand on the man's elbow, she smiled up at him. "Oh, yes, I'm so thankful you knew where he was. You must have a mind like a steel-trap."
Seifer grit his teeth as she led the drunk back to the bar, trailing dutifully and angrily behind them.
"Oh, tis nothin', I'm just happy ta help such a pretty young thing as yerself," the man said, waving his free arm wildly. "Twas such a shame ta see a beautiful woman so low." He glanced at Seifer who glared stoically, both trying not to look too much like he wanted to tear the man to pieces and to not think about what was quickly becoming clear.
"How'd he take the news, honey?" the old man asked, pointing exaggeratedly at Quistis' belly.
Seifer's hands jerked, the only outward sign of his surprise; so it was true then. This was how she had found him—that outfit… Quistis whispered something into the man's ear as she sat him down on one of the faded stools, but the man didn't release her, instead pulling her down with him so that she was half-sprawled on his lap and his hand was able to creep to her ass.
That was it.
Seifer had had it.
His hand reached out of its own volition removing the offending appendage from Quistis' backside and twisting it to just before the breaking point before dropping it while his other hand roughly grabbed for Quistis and jerked her up and into his side.
Murderously glaring into the old man's obviously sober and now serious eyes, he felt Quistis shiver beside him but he ignored it.
She cleared her throat. "Thanks again, Pete," she managed in a shaky voice. "I haven't had the time to explain yet but I'm sure everything will be fine."
"Anytime, honey," the old man said with a wicked smile at Seifer, "come see me if that young buck there don't do right by ya."
Seifer growled, but Quistis smiled emptily, and in one move tore herself from Seifer's arm and all but fled the pub. Seifer watched her retreating back for a full ten seconds before he decided going after her would be smarter than teaching the scam artist a lesson. With one last glare at the still grinning man, Seifer went after her, keeping his distance as she sprinted up the stairs and down the street. He watched her come to a stop in an alleyway between two buildings across from Timber Maniacs before she whipped around crossing her arms defensively over her chest.
Trying to calm himself—fuck, what was she thinking—he gave her a few seconds to get herself together. Two large gray metal dumpsters lined one of the beige cement walls while the other boasted a pile of crates that towered above his head as he finally followed her in. Behind her a rusted gate guarded a small courtyard of sorts that dead-ended into the back of one building and contained entrances to the buildings on either side.
He was pissed and had all sorts of half-answered questions going through his head but knowing she was already on the defensive, he strolled casually to her, working to keep his tone mild as he stopped in front of her and asked, "So, who was that?"
She sighed, running a trembling hand through her hair and seeing her so shaken pissed him off even more. He wanted to go back and rip the guy's hands off and feed them to him.
"That was Pete," she said finally, pacing past him toward the alley's entrance then turning to face him, "he's a local that has eyes and ears everywhere. He's a lush, harmless really."
"He's a con artist." Seifer growled wondering how for someone so smart she could be so fucking stupid. "He was stone sober," he bit out finally, proud of himself when the tone was even.
She grimaced. "His hands did seem to land just a bit too conveniently."
"I noticed…" he said dryly. "So, Pete the Con what? Told you where to find me out of the goodness of his scheming heart?"
She frowned and his worst fears were becoming reality quicker than his frayed temper could handle. "Don't tell me that outfit was for him."
She shrugged. "Okay, I won't."
"What the fuck was Squall thinking?"
She shrugged again and he had to fight to keep from growling. "I already told you, we thought you'd moved on. I was only supposed to get information on where you might have headed, and Ol' Pete is the best source of information in town, made better because I wouldn't have to bribe or pay him outright."
Fuck. "No, you just what? Had to give him a show, and… Hyne" Fuck, he didn't want to know but now the question was eating at him. Just how far…
"Pretty much," she agreed mildly, "the show was free, which was better than the last time SeeD dealt with him. He charged ten thousand Gil for some shady information that only ended up being half right. This is supposed to be off the books and I don't have that kind of coin. Luckily, Ol' Pete is exactly how Squall described him, a sleaze with a romantic streak. He bought the sob story, hook, line, and sinker, and gave me everything I asked for without even thinking of asking for payment."
Seifer scowled. A show. Squall should fucking know better. She should fucking know better. He wasn't worth it. And here she was lecturing him like it didn't fucking matter. He ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. "Fine, you got what you wanted, and he got to cop a couple feels, what's the harm in that. I just never expected you to give them so freely."
He knew he'd said something monumentally stupid the moment the words left his mouth. All of his blood seemed to drop to his feet. She looked like he'd slapped her and then her whole face twisted into a snarl.
"That's funny coming from you. I seem to recall someone else looking for a free show just last night and we both know how that went over," she whispered with a voice that would chill the dead. She took a step towards him, her finger pointing in his face. "I did what I was told to do to get the job done, then and in your little hideaway. I'm a SeeD, that's what we do. We follow orders and complete our mission whether our personal views conflict with it or not. That's something you could never understand, it's why you never could pass muster. And that is why, even with Squall's delusions of being one big fucking happy gang of orphans again, you'll never be one of us."
It was his turn to flinch, and the retort was out of his mouth before he could think, "If I'd have to sell myself like that I don't think I'd want to!"
"It's better than giving yourself over to a madwoman for free!" she hissed in blind fury, backing him further into the alley. "And what do you have to show for it? You're a washed up loser that half the world wants dead. A paragon of lofty ideals and twisted fantasies, bathing your hands in the blood of the innocent to make all of your delusions into a fucked up reality. You're a sad pathetic shell, a puppet with cut strings. Don't kid yourself. You sold more than any mercenary ever would and you've got nothing to show for it."
Her words ripped open wounds he hadn't been sure were there, but as the sting overwhelmed him he closed his eyes, and shoved it and the twisted relief he felt back under. His first instinct was to let the anger run free, to retaliate, hitting harder and cutting deeper, but the thought of tearing her down like that made his gut clench in a way it never had before, which just frustrated him more. In the end he decided that the truth was all that mattered, and she could do with it what she willed.
"You seem to think that I don't know that. That I don't know what a fuck-up I am. That I haven't heard this all before, how I'm worth nothing, how I'll never amount to anything. How I'm a lapdog, a puppet, a plaything. I get that," he spat, waving his hand and trying desperately to sever the emotion flowing so closely to the words. "Hell, I can even own up to it. I was played more finely than a concert violin…and you're right I got nothing out of it besides hazy memories and a face everyone hates. So go ahead, tell me how it looks from that pedestal up there."
She shuddered visibly but said nothing, staring at him with wounded eyes. If it hadn't hurt so much he might have been glad for her words, as they, more than anything, had proved that even if Edea had cut of the majority of his emotional memories, she had left him basically intact. He was the same fucked up emotional mess he'd always been. What Edea had done was give him the control to recognize it and deal with it like a normal human being. The sharp edges of his triggers had been worn smooth, allowing for the clarity that he wasn't so much hurt that what she said was true; more that she had said it at all. That Quistis, the only one he could ever count on to stand up for him, to be fair to him, had finally given up on him. It was devastating in a way he couldn't have expected.
What was worse was that he could almost hear her apology, what she would have said to him if she still believed in him, but she remained silent, taking in one shaky breath after another. He knew he mirrored her, could feel his own chest heaving under the strain. He didn't know how to fix what was broken between them but he knew one thing for certain, he needed to find that pocket of self-loathing again and stick to it. It was how he should actually feel after all. If Edea hadn't fucked his life over so badly, he was sure he would have drowned in it.
His attention was drawn back to her as she shifted, quickly stepping toward him, her arm outstretched "I'm—"
A spray of blood hit his face, cutting off her words abruptly seconds before fire erupted along his side. The strong bite of pain was secondary to the rush of adrenaline that had him grabbing her and smashing them both against one of the large dumpsters just as a second shot flew into the alleyway. The bullet cracked against a wooden crate sending splinters flying just a few inches from where they'd ended up.
He rolled them behind the dumpster's side, putting it between them and the alley's entrance and then glanced down, praying that she was okay. Her eyes were dilated with shock, and he cursed, running his hands over her blood stained arm looking for the wound. His fingers found it on her shoulder. A tunnel of scorched flesh had been left in the bullet's wake before it hit the bone, and continued in an altered path out of her and toward him. It bled sluggishly, most of the tissue having been cauterized by the heat of bullet.
Probably a Fire Ammo, he thought, judging by the burn of his own wound. If she hadn't moved it would have easily sunk into her head, and if it hadn't passed through, the damage would have been much more severe.
"11 o'clock, on the roof," she muttered lifting her pain dilated eyes to his, "Timber Maniacs; it would have had to be. Plenty of room to adjust if he doesn't give up."
Silently Seifer agreed as he glanced over the black lid, the other buildings were too short and too exposed to make the shot. A bullet sunk into the lid a foot from his face and he swore, diving back down.
"He's still there," he informed her.
She shifted, pulling away from him and he had to force his arms to relax and let her go. In the rush of adrenaline, he'd all but forgotten their argument but she clearly wanted to be as far from him as she could. He ignored the sting of rejection as she crept to the dumpster's edge and studied their surroundings.
"There's too much time," she mumbled, "and not enough."
"For what?" he asked, reaching around to the side of his chest to where his flesh still burned. He hissed as his fingers hit the wound just below his armpit, and then she was there shaking her head as she slapped his hand away.
"The train," she said, as she lifted his arm and examined the wound through the tear in his shirt. The way she was treating him should have had him grinding his teeth in frustration. Instead he found himself fighting off a smile. It was just so like her. And no matter how pathetic it sounded—burning or not, he would have taken the bullet just to see that she still cared.
Oblivious, she rambled on. "It's probably eleven now, even if we can get out of the alley without being shot there's still half an hour before the train leaves." Her fingers grazed the edges of the wound but this time he was ready for the bite of pain and she didn't pause, "In a city the size of Timber we won't be able to lose the sniper for long… if at all. Cure," she whispered as she finished, and he felt the magic take hold. His skin stretched, and then knit back together, leaving no trace of the wound. Seconds later the battle-grade cloth knitted itself back together as well covering his skin once more, but he barely noticed it through the rush.
He had almost forgotten how odd magic felt. Like drinking coffee up to the point of jitteriness but never crossing that line.
"I'd return the favor," he whispered, gesturing to her shoulder, "but I haven't had spells stocked for a while." He still had the standard junction system, the one the rest of the world used that didn't rely on the power of the guardian, but he wasn't even wearing it. Hadn't bothered to restock it after his spells had run out. Living so close to town, and with his gunblade, he hadn't seen the point.
"Here," she muttered, reaching under the collar of her shirt and pulling out her junction interface from somewhere in her cleavage. "Let me see your junction… You still have one, don't you?"
"Yeah," he said, swallowing, and trying not to think of exactly where she kept that little device.
He reached into his bag and pulled it out, then handed it to her. She had the spells transferred and his interface back to him in under a minute.
"Don't bother healing me yet. I might be able to use it."
Idiot, he thought as he stuck the chip onto the skin just below his collar bone, but he bit his tongue to keep from saying it aloud. It wasn't his call if she chose to bleed, she could handle it. After all, it was something even the wannabe SeeDs were trained to do. Using pain or blood loss to break one's magical limit separated potential SeeDs from the rest of the fodder.
"Can you see the sniper?" she asked craning her neck over his shoulder to peek at the building kitty-corner from them.
He rose slightly to glance over the dumpster and just about fell on his ass as a bullet pinged off the metal an inch to his right.
"Still there," he announced, leaning heavily against the wall. And a damn good shot, too, Seifer thought, not quite perfect, but better than most.
Quistis nodded absently, looking around her with a studied air. Then she looked up at him. "Pull on the dumpster will you?"
He tossed her a quizzical look but did as she asked, and after a moment's struggle, it moved…slightly. Still, she smiled brightly at him.
"See that door over there?" she asked pointing to the half-hidden entry across the way.
He nodded. "Let me guess. We'll use the dumpster to get to the door."
"Sort of, we're going to use the dumpster to make him think we went for the door, then I'm going to start a fire and we're going through that gate."
He looked to the door and then to the gate. "We'd better get pulling."
It took what seemed like hours to pull the dumpster far enough that it blocked the alley entirely, and every so often, the scraping of metal over concrete was punctuated by the ring of a bullet hitting their shield. The citizens were probably scrambling trying to find shelter from the gunman, but he knew no one would come to their rescue. The local police force was all but defunct after the Galbadian's quick withdrawal. It had been one of the reasons he'd chosen Timber to hide out in; less chance of the local authorities getting wind of a fugitive in their midst when there were none to speak of.
When they stopped Quistis turned to him, her eyes glowing with the power of her limit. "Mighty Guard," she called, and the magic rose around them, wrapping them both in a barrage of Protect, Shell, Haste, and Aura.
It was an impressive spell, one he hadn't seen her use before but he was more concerned with the way her eyes were dilated and how her chest was heaving with the effort it took for her to breathe. She waved off his offered arm, crouching awkwardly as she left the safety of their shelter. He followed her quickly and when they were almost to the door, she turned.
"Firaga."
The spell exploded in front of them, igniting the trail of slime that led from the dumpster to the wall where it had been, creating a line of towering flame.
"Go, go, go," she said hurriedly heading for the gate.
Seifer pulled out Hyperion and used its hilt to bash the lock and then pulled off the rusty chain, and pried it open. On the other side lay a dead end and two more doors, one on street level and the other down a flight of concrete stairs.
"Pick one," she urged, closing the gate behind her.
Seifer nodded, going down. "Isn't this the hotel's building?"
She shrugged. "I don't remember."
"Wow, something the instructor doesn't know. I'll have to put this one in the books," he chided absent-mindedly as he used Hyperion on the rusty padlock guarding the metal door.
She didn't respond but he could almost feel her glare on the back of his neck and he grinned glad that she was back to her usual self.
The padlock gave, falling to the paved steps with an audible crack and Seifer picked it up as Quistis pushed her way past him and jiggled the door's knob. It twisted easily under her hand and as she opened the door. A dark hole stared out at them.
"After you," Quistis said shakily.
Seifer consoled himself that whatever was in the basement was probably better than what was behind them as he stepped across the threshold and into darkness. Shapes formed in the black as his eyes adjusted, and he began to make out piles of distinct items before Quistis slipped in behind him and cut off the light from behind.
Whatever building it was, it didn't seem to belong to the Hotel, or if it did, this part of it hadn't been used in ages. Dust blanketed everything he touched, coming up in plumes.. He sneezed and Quistis swore as she bumped into a pile of stuff trying to get around him.
"Don't just stand there," she murmured, stepping over a pile of boxes and what seemed to be old, dusty, covered furniture, trying to find the way through.
"There should be some stairs around here somewhere," Seifer commented lightly.
"Standard Timber architecture would put them in that corner," Quistis informed him, pointing to the northwest before blazing a path carefully in that direction.
"And know-it-all Quistis strikes again," he muttered as he followed her.
"I heard that," she growled.
The stairs were indeed in the corner and he chuckled, following her as she vaulted up them two at a time. They reached the ground floor in moments and emerged into an abandoned glass-fronted shop. Covered and dusty displays mixed with rows and rows of old rusting shelves running the length of the room. The old store seemed relatively safe with plenty of places to hide, but if the sniper was quick or smart that advantage wouldn't last longer than a few more minutes.
Seifer really hoped Quistis had a plan.
"We're here. Now what?" he asked.
"We need to get to the train station, but we're too close. If we go now, they could follow us on the train" she muttered, "but how…Oh! Look," she said, pulling on his sleeve.
He followed her pointed finger and noticed what she had. Across the street was a railing and beyond it, beneath it was the tracks that ran parallel to those of Timber's main station, and in front of that railing a short, but large man paced back and forth along the same three feet of cobblestones. He looked to be talking to someone while scanning what seemed to be their direction. Then a second man stepped up to the first from the right, this one tall and toned, wearing a red bandana over his dark hair with a shotgun strapped over his shoulders.
"Shit," Quistis breathed, "They're already three steps ahead of us. It's a Hyne dammed team."
The man with the gun turned his tanned face towards them and although Seifer knew he wouldn't be able to see them at that distance through the dingy glass of the shop's front, it felt like he was looking right at them.
"I don't recognize them or their maneuvers, could be freelance," Quistis said shakily, and Seifer could see her swallowing hard as the man's dark eyes moved away. "We have to get out of here."
Seifer grunted his ascent. "Somehow I don't think the front door is a good idea. And I'm not going back into that deathtrap down there, so what's the plan?"
Quistis shook her head, and Seifer decided he really didn't like the glazed look her eyes had taken on.
"Come on Quisty, standard Timber architecture," he reminded her, more trying to snap her out of it than actually needing her to lead. "Where are the exits?"
She didn't answer, staring down blindly at something on the floor. A pool of crimson. His eyes shot up to her shoulder.
Fuck. He'd forgotten all about it and obviously so had she. "Dammit, why haven't you healed that yet?"
"Forgot," she uttered, as her eyes met his.
He pulled on his junction. "Cure," he said irritably.
They were both acting like a couple of cadets out on their first field mission, and if she was right, if this was a freelance team, cadets wouldn't get far. The sniper would have already moved—if the team was good they would know that Quistis had bought train tickets and send the sniper to cover the station while the other two flushed them out.
She groaned rubbing her forehead. "I'm sorry," she stated. "I'm a little off my game."
"Well, I hope you get back on it soon, because those guys look like they're getting impatient." He pointed to where the taller man stood looking between the two buildings closely as the stocky one said something to him. The taller one nodded, and raised a radio to his lips.
"Yeah, let's go. Second floor or maybe the third. Standard architecture has fire escapes on the east and west fronts of every building, put in after the Great Fire during Galbadia's first invasion. We can hop from building to building back to the pub courtyard, try to lose them before running back along the streets towards the station."
"Great, and good timing, because here he comes." The shorter man was headed for the building beside theirs while the lean one headed straight for them.
"Go, go," she said, crouching to stay hidden as she hurried for the open stairs.
They crouched until they were past the ceiling, out of line of sight, and then ran up the second flight. They heard the breaking of glass just as they crossed the landing to the eastern hallway window. Quistis cast Silence over them both before easing the rusted window open. It squeaked slightly as it gave and Seifer cursed loudly, knowing no sound would make it past the magic clouding him.
The sound of their boots hitting the metal platform was muffled to a quiet ping and Seifer gently slid the window shut as Quistis judged the distance between their balcony and the next. Motioning at Seifer, she mimed orders for him to give her a boost onto the railing.
He sighed inaudibly and cupped his hands for her to step into. Stepping from his hands to the rail, she leapt gracefully over the gap and onto the platform. He boosted himself shakily onto the rail and made the jump, landing on the platform beside her. She pointed up and then grabbed on to the ladder that was attached to the side of the building. He followed her closely as they climbed, doing his best not to stare at her rather shapely ass as it moved in all its leathered glory. He'd always liked the peach outfit that she wore for battle, but this new one was growing on him.
Lost in that thought he almost ran right over her as she stopped abruptly at the building's roofline. He could feel her sigh before she pulled herself the rest of the way onto the roof. He followed, seeing what she had seen; there was a billboard advertising Moomba Juice which sat directly to their left, blocking line of sight to where the sniper had last been stationed. Seifer pulled two Echo Screens from his bag and swallowed one of the vials of foul brew. His stomach immediately revolted, and it was all he could do to keep what little was in there in place as he handed her the other shiny green bottle.
Downing it, she cleared her throat quietly. "As soon as we step past that tile we'll be in direct line of sight if the sniper didn't move, and possibly even if he did," she whispered, "but if we head for that spot there—" she pointed to the buildings old, rusted air conditioning unit "—we can figure out where to go next."
He nodded. "We run for it on three then. Ready?" he asked, bracing himself for the run. At her nod he counted, "On the count of three. One, two… three!"
They burst from the shadows together, sprinting toward safety. Seconds later a shot rang out. Quistis had pulled ahead so he could see that she hadn't been hit as she put on a burst of speed and Seifer followed. Another shot sounded, this time from a different gun, and the bullet landed, spitting up asphalt less than a foot in front of him. He threw himself to the side, glancing in the direction the shot had come from. The lean man was on the roof of the building they'd left, and the barrel of his shotgun was tracking Seifer's movements steadily. Seifer cursed, then kept going, weaving after Quistis toward the unit at the end of the roof.
By the time Quistis dove into the shallow alcove between the machine and the edge, Seifer was five steps behind. The shotgun blasted behind him as he careened into the corner, biting into the metal inches from his shaking head, and spraying rusted shrapnel into his back.
Quistis grabbed him roughly, pulling him behind the edge of the unit and smashing herself between him and the metal wall.
"Are you hit?" she asked worriedly, looking him over, and reaching out to touch his head.
Torn between calculations of where the bullet had come from, the stinging pain of his back, and distracting thoughts of the rather intimate position they'd ended up in, he dodged her seeking hand and shook his head.
He put a few more inches between their bodies and gestured to what was now his right. "The tan one is on the roof of that building behind us and he's got some kind of shotgun and the sniper is still in play across that street. That was his shot that reflected off the corner there. Why are these guys after us anyway?"
Another bullet sunk into the metal right next to his head and she jumped, then shifted to wrap her arms around him again and pull him in closer, further behind the shield. He bit his lip to keep from crying out as her arms pushed some of the shrapnel bits further into his skin in her effort to keep him close as she ducked her head to peek out from underneath his arm.
"I don't exactly know why they're shooting at us," she said, finally answering his question. "I have an idea, but now is not exactly the time to go into it."
He shifted, trying again to put some distance between them, cursing the fact that he couldn't see anything but metal from where he was smashed up against her and the unit.
"I think I see the original shooter," she whispered, "and he's leaving," she pulled back in, staring up at him. "But we still need to vacate. There's approximately six feet between this roof and the next and about forty feet more to another six to eight-foot gap and then about fifteen to the sign on that roof but even if he stops his angle's wrong now. The tan one is too far away to aim accurately with a shot gun and I don't see the tubby one so we'll get about ten seconds head start if we go now."
He nodded, tensing his body, there was no way he'd make a ten-foot jump cold without a strength junction, but turning he could just see that the other roof also had a ladder and below it a fire-escape. If he aimed for that he was pretty sure he could make it.
"Go," she called, and he went, pushing off the unit and taking two half-running steps before leaping, aiming for the ladder. Catching himself on the forth rung, he dropped down four more to give her room and had an arm ready to catch her as she came flying toward where he'd landed. Her hands caught and she smiled down at him before scrambling up and over onto the roof. He followed her two seconds later and they ran over the asphalt roof, his feet and heart pounding so quickly it became a hum in the background.
A shot sounded, and followed by another but Quistis was next to him and then they were jumping over the next rooftop gap. He rolled as she did on landing, then they were both up and running for the cover of another sign. Another shot missed just as he slid behind it. Quistis panted beside him, but didn't stop, heading for the ladder that would lead down to the street paralleling the pub.
Seifer followed her, but as his feet touched the galvanized metal, he asked, "Where are we going?"
"There's a railroad track," she panted out as they all but flew down the rungs, "between the pub and the building next to it. Place to hide. Maybe"
"Great," he muttered as she jumped the last eight feet to the street below.
He took a second before following her and felt the impact all the way to his teeth. He winced slightly, but nothing seemed broken and she was already heading across the street so he scrambled to follow her. At the railing separating the lower part of Timber from the raised streets, she hesitated slightly and he caught up to her.
"I don't see any of them," she said twisting to look back at him.
"Think they gave up?" he asked, scanning the street and the rooftops they'd come from.
"No," she whispered.
"Better go then," he said, bending to give her a boost over the rail.
Once on it she leapt over to the building's domed roof. He followed not a moment later just barely avoiding the bullet that pinged off the metal rail behind him.
Scrambling to the opposite side of the roof. Seifer saw the tracks she had mentioned, on the other side of an eight-foot stone wall, and also realized that there was a courtyard of sorts that was full of boxes and other junk between the building they were on and the alley. There was a ladder though, he realized as Quistis headed for it, that it would put them near the fence as they went down.
She led the way, sliding down the ladder's rungs until she was slightly above the stone wall and then she jumped for it, landing on its top before dropping down into the alley below. He followed quickly and joined her at the base of the wall separating the alley from the train tracks.
Quistis approached the wall and motioned for Seifer to give her a boost. He followed in resignation, bending at the waist and holding out his locked hands. She stepped onto them bracing herself on his shoulder and then he lifted her as she pushed off, vaulting over the top and disappearing on the other side.
He backed up in line with where a pile of crates stood and then took a running leap, stepping on the topmost crate before pushing off it into the wall. His hands caught on the top and his feet scrambled up, giving him just enough momentum to get over.
"Hug the wall," she called as he touched ground on the other side.
"They'll still probably be able to see us," he told her, but followed her directions anyway until they'd gotten out of sight behind the pub, then again as they went past the building and out to the small attached courtyard.
Quistis pulled out her watch as she reached the opening into the courtyard. Looking at it she frowned and then leaned out of the opening to scan the perimeter.
"I don't see any of them," she said, meeting Seifer's eyes, "but you know that doesn't mean anything, and we've got about ten minutes before the train is due to leave."
"We wait five and then we run for it then," he suggested, "if they're still on the roofs they won't have time to follow us onto the train and if they aren't, they'll be a minute behind us anyway."
She nodded. "If they're up there they'll probably expect us to come out through the front door of the pub, if we stick to the shadows of the bridge we might not attract their attention."
He nodded and they settled in to wait, but after four minutes Seifer heard the tell-tale sounds of someone rushing the wall behind them.
"Shit, run!" he whispered, and she dashed out into the shadow of the building. He followed, hearing whoever it was curse violently as they fell back down. Grinning he picked up speed, catching up to her just as a shot echoed. He couldn't tell where it'd come from or where it'd landed and there was no time to bother looking for the shooter as they ran up the stone steps.
Half-way down the street, the train whistled a five-minute warning in the station. As they ran on past the Maniacs building to the street that paralleled the tracks, he could just make out the tops of the sleek cars and the smoke cloud of the engine behind the other buildings.
Quistis never wavered, running full-bore down the lane and Seifer followed, keeping just steps behind her as two more shots went off. A flower pot burst in a window to his left, and he dodged right as the second bullet landed, spewing grit from the cobblestones where he'd been standing. Glancing behind him he could see that the tubby fellow was on his trail, but obviously wasn't that great at hitting moving targets.
He put on speed, then noticed that Quistis had paused in the street in front of him, crossing her arms to pull up the energy to cast.
"Blizzard" she called out as he reached her. Grabbing her arm, he tugged her with him as he passed, dragging her along for a few seconds before she caught her balance began running.
He glanced back noting that he'd interrupted her aim—the spell had crashed in front of the tubby man, instead of into him. Still, it had distracted him enough that they had gained some more distance and he wasn't able to aim that shiny pistol properly. Quistis tugged her wrist out of his hand, motioning him forward even as she pulled her whip out of her bag. Seifer growled in frustration but didn't stop as she slowed, snapping the whip once and catching the man around the ankles. Torn between watching where he was going and keeping an eye on her, he heard the crash of the man hitting the ground as he rounded the platform labeled 'Galbadia.'
Another shot had his heart stopping until his eyes found her again, running with all her might towards him as the train blasted off its one-minute warning. Counting the seconds, he jogged ahead up the steps.
As the next shot rang out he dove to the right, rolling up to the stairs, before running onto the train. Turning, he hung out of the door of the car, his eyes frantically searching for her. He breathed a sigh of relief as she hit the top of the stairs, sprinting towards him. She'd been hit; a flesh wound trailing red from her side as she flew over the concrete and the train geared up, chugging as it readied to pull out of the station, but that she was there at all was all that mattered. The doors beeped loudly, warning that they would close and he braced himself against them. It took what was left of his strength to jam them open. As the train jolted into movement she rounded on the edge of the ticket station and jumped for where he stood.
Letting go, he caught her and they both tumbled back into the compartment just as the doors slid shut. He felt her take one deep panting breath and then another as she lay on top of him and the train pulled away from the station. He shifted, lifting her so that he could sit up.
"That was too close," he said, his voice shaking with adrenaline.
She nodded, and grimaced as she rose, her hand reaching for her wound. Seifer followed her up, reaching out to steady her, to examine just how bad it was but she knocked his hand away, and jerked her head toward the car behind theirs.
"Check the next car, scan these and input 140049104," she said breathlessly.
Scowling, he followed her orders, scanning their tickets and stalking through the passage the open door revealed. Opening the door at the other end, he stepped out into another loading compartment, and then beyond it through the small door that opened at the end of the car.
After checking the last two cars in the train and finding them unoccupied, he returned to the SeeD car, and found Quistis slumped onto the long padded seat that covered the far wall. She looked up as he came in, but seeing it was him, slumped down again.
"No one there," he told her, quickly looking her over.
She'd taken care of her injury, leaving nothing but the blood to indicate it'd been there, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"We made it," she said looking up at him.
He smiled grimly. They had, just.