He can't believe it. They did it. They really did it.

One million gil.

A wildly excited laugh bursts out of Baram despite his burning legs and lungs. Clyde's right behind him with the rest of the loot, but Baram can hear him start laughing breathlessly too.

"We need to change our name," Baram says suddenly. He blinks and slows his pace, not sure where the words came from.

Clyde nearly crashes into him. "Our name?"

The thrill of a plan successfully executed still runs in his veins. For the first time in a long while he feels honestly, truly happy, and is suddenly reluctant to leave this life behind. Slowly, a new idea churns itself up in his mind. "Yeah, we need something more appropriate." Something that will fit the fame soon to follow them in their outlaw life and their skill in evading their pursuers.

"Like what?"

Baram tilts his head back, letting a rare genuine grin cross his face. "Shadow," he says almost to himself. Then he glances at Clyde. "Not bad, huh?"

"Shadow," Clyde echoes. "The train robbers of the century." His eyes brighten with enthusiasm and a matching grin appears on his face.

He can't believe it. They were close. So, so close.

One million gil wasn't enough. Or maybe it was too much. Maybe they shouldn't have jumped.

Baram swears he tasted freedom during the fall, the taste of clean air free from choking smog or chalky powder. Now all he tastes is iron.

And he's afraid. He knows that he's showing his fear on his face, but he can't smile anymore. It hurts too much to smile.

There's red all over him, but his eyes are refusing to focus. He can't feel his legs, and his mind is foggy and clouded.

Is all this his blood?

"Everything'll be fine," Clyde gasps. As confused as his mind is, Baram knows that's not true. He never meant for this to happen. "Save your strength. We're almost to a town." No. There's no saving him. And the Imperials, they're too close.

He is afraid of death, but he knows it's infinitely preferable to what the Empire has planned for him.

His bandana's slipping. He lost the eyepatch somewhere along the way, but the blood on his face probably makes up for it.

He wants to die before he can be brought back to those... those monsters, but he's not bleeding fast enough.

With his uncovered eyes, he looks up at Clyde. The kid still hasn't left yet. "Get going!" he shouts. Or tries to, anyway. The liquid in his mouth's not making it easy to talk. Clyde tries to lift him but he growls and shakes his head, aware that he'd just slow the kid down. Finally Clyde puts him down and reluctantly begins to step away.

And the Empire's still coming for both of them. His addled mind pauses, realizes he's forgot something. He hopes dearly that the kid doesn't let him down (even though he never killed anyone and could barely ever hunt). "Clyde," he gasps, "before you go... take your knife, and kill me."

"What?! I... I can't!" Clyde stares at him with wide-eyed shock, horror and some other things he can't make out, but there's no flash of steel, no sensation of a blade cutting through him. He feels his heart sink.

"Please. If they catch me, they'll torture me." And worse. "Do this one last favor. Please."

Clyde shakes his head, his arm's shaking too, why isn't he dead yet? The blood loss must be making him delirious. It looks like Clyde is getting smaller, or farther away-

No.

No, no, 'no no no you can't leave me here, not alive, don't leave me, come back,' "Come back...you coward!"

Clyde's gone. He gasps weakly for air on instinct, and a minute or an eternity later, he can't tell which, he hears the sound of wood hitting dirt, boats landing on the riverbank.

"Well," says a familiar voice, General Leo's voice, "this is quite a surprise. Get this man some potions and clean him up. The Emperor will want to talk to this one face to face."

Through the crust of blood on his eyes, he can just barely see the other general looking down at him calmly.

"I never expected to meet you here, General Kefka."

Kefka shuts his eyes. His nightmares have caught up to him.