Concussion
A/N:Violence warning.
The view from the balcony was less than appealing. Zozo was a run down city surrounded by towns of aristocracy, potentially a once promising industrial investment gone wrong.
"Not the inn." Locke had halted the group when they came into town.
He led them to one of the quieter towers instead, though that didn't mean much as prostitutes and thugs roamed the halls.
They had settled in a dusty old flat, the furnishings infested with decay and mildew. The air outside was incredibly damp from the torrents of rain that plagued the town, as if the skies themselves were attempting to cleanse the city of it's corpses and sin.
Celes was attacked the first night.
A man descended on her from the awning above an abandoned shop, startling her as another came from behind, nimbly pulling her sword from her reach as he held a knife to her throat. It was premeditated and she was unprepared.
She conjured Ice, causing the man at her throat to squeal and recoil, as the one in front of her hooked a punch directly into her temple.
"This is one of them Magitek bitches!" The squealer declared, recovering all too quickly from her magic.
The two men were stronger than normal, and her vision blurred from the impact as she steadied herself. Her eyes scanned the saturated ground to find her sword in a puddle by an old pillar. She dove for it, dodging another blow from the thug as she did so, landing rather ungracefully on her side.
The thugs were quicker than her, and another blow to her temple made her ears ring.
Her heart pounded in her chest and the dull ache of a concussion set in. Her sword was just out of her reach, but she had given up on that now. It'd been a while since she put any sort of hand to hand combat to use.
She rolled to her side, dodging another blow. She pivoted herself off the ground in an attempt to get up when a hard kick met her ribs, sending her back to the ground.
"Stay right where you are, pretty girl!" The squealer exclaimed, and he pinned her down as she squirmed, attempting to throw him off of her with momentum from her hips.
She conjured Ice again, and utilized the the moment of shock from the man to get her dominant arm loose to take a swing, but the other man stomped kicked her in the head, causing her to cry out as the man straddling her overpowered her again.
She felt blood on her face. Not all of it was her own as the attacker that straddled her had a significant amount of blood oozing from his nose now from her retaliation.
He eyed her with a maniacal grin. "I like you." He croaked, "I knew you'd be fun when I watched you earlier." His breath hit her like a train, even through the heavy fall of rain she could almost taste the foulness of it.
She attempted the conjure another spell, but was met with yet another blow to the face causing her to break concentration. The second man took over pinning her arms as she felt the other cutting open her blouse as she screamed out.
The sensation made her recall something.
The right sleeve of her blouse was rigged with one of Locke's knives, something he offered her once on the road, which made her laugh.
Despite her skepticism, Locke had fixed the holster to her sleeve, his fingers nimble and coarse against her skin.
"You didn't offer Sabin a thief's knife." She had observed teasingly.
"People look at Sabin and they see Sabin," Locke had told her. "I don't think you'll have that same luxury everywhere."
Celes had another weapon, one that her attackers were too distracted to notice, and it was currently being pressed up her arm, the tip of the knife barely nicking her skin.
She'd have to come up with a surprise. She'd have to be fast.
She willed herself to relax her muscles, to convince them that they'd won in this sick hunting game they were playing. It wasn't an easy feat, as the man over her kissed her roughly on the lips and ran his tongue and teeth over her neck.
"Nice rack." He slurred against her skin.
Perhaps it was rage, or perhaps she knew intuitively that it was the right moment, but she slowly turned her head to the arm of the man pinning her, and bit down on his flesh as hard as he could. The act caused him to scream and release her long enough for her to have her hands free to eject Locke's knife from the holster.
It all happened so quickly that by the time the man who straddled her took notice, she had sank the blade into his back, ensuring that she twisted it enough to lacerate his kidney. He howled in pain in response and and she used what strength she had remaining to flip them over with her hips. He bounced against the ground amidst the force of the movement, air escaping his lungs sharply.
His companion had run off at then point, and she hovered over him looking like a madwoman, his blood mixed with hers on her face, coagulating in hard specks where the rain failed to wash it off.
He attempted to swing at her hand with the knife and missed, and she swiftly brought it down on his abdomen with all her might. He howled again, his cries muffled against the hard fall of the rain. She stabbed him a third time, then time pressing her weight against the blade and twisting it.
Her mind was crazed with rage. She missed the lethal points on purpose, feeling satisfied as the rush of warmth of his blood soaking her pants.
She rose slowly, panting heavily with one foot planted on either side of him. She still felt unsteady from the blows to her head and a dull tingle dominated her senses.
She left the thug there, bleeding out into the rain alone. She stumbled back outside the alley to where her sword lay. She stooped down and picked it up by the hilt, suddenly growing aware of her open blouse. She closed it with one hand and held her sword ready in the other.
She shuffled back to the building where they set up accommodation, her vision blurring with tiny dots in her peripherals. Storefront oglers and prostitutes stood in doorways, watching her in quiet reverence. Groups of people fell silent around her as the rain lessened, as if no one dared even a simple catcall from the maddened woman with her sword out covered in blood.
She climbed the staircase one step at a time, balance swaying slightly. She braced herself with the wall of the building.
Sabin's eyes were wide when she entered the room.
"Celes! What happened!"
The boom of his voice stirred the sleeping Locke, who had dozed earlier in the evening before she had left, still with one arm resting about his head and the other on his stomach.
An eye popped open and he jerked up when he saw her as if lightning itself had coursed through his muscles.
Celes pushed Sabin aside weakly as he attempted to brace her. She had gotten concussions before in training, but nothing that physically hampered her this way. She fell against the bathroom door, dropping her sword against the wall and feeling two nimble arms around her, forcing her back into a standing position as she was pulled up by her armpits.
"Sabin- get Gau and have him bring some warm water. Get potions. And an ether. An elixir if you can."
It was Locke's voice. He echoed in her ear as he spoke from behind his shoulder to their companion, bracing her against his front.
She faded as she heard Sabin confirm and leave, and became mildly lucid as Locke walked her slowly to the bathroom. She wanted to let her head roll back and close her eyes but her adrenaline kept her hyperaware of the situation.
She felt a hand on her cheek and opened her eyes, unaware that she had closed them. Locke knelt before her, his usual bandana and jacket off, brown eyes boring into her as if searching for any possible clue that she was hesitant to divulge.
"Celes." His voice cracked a little as he said her name. "Let's get you cleaned up, ok? Gau brought some water earlier for baths."
Celes nodded weakly and zoned out again, listening as she heard the sound of water being poured into the tub from buckets. Locke worked quickly, retrieving a tired looking towel from a cupboard and carefully draping it over her front.
Her mind was as hazy as her body was sore. He was careful to loosen bits of her clothing as needed, letting her peel it off however long it took her, gently bracing her as she pushed her pants down and holding the towel around her as best she could.
She was too exhausted by trauma for modesty. She swayed as she stood, feeling pressure in her head as the adrenaline wore off and the swelling set in. The colored dots in her peripherals began to swim to the front of her vision, and the next thing she knew she was lowered into the tub of warm water. Her neck rested on the base of the tub and she didn't stir again until she felt the sting of a soapy washcloth against the wounds on her face.
She felt water dripping over her hair. Her eyes opened again and she turned her head to the man knelt beside the tub, one arm propped up by an elbow with it's hand squeezing the washcloth over her head while the other rested on the side of the tub. His chin rested next to it. He was the first things her eyes recognized when she woke.
"Hey." He said softly, mustering what she thought was supposed to be a reassuring smile.
"Hey." She whispered, head rolling to face him.
She'd never seen Locke like this, frozen in a repeated motion, eyes sad and distant and full of hundreds of questions that she'd never know.
The supplies. His knife that saved her. She'd left it all behind. Celes gasped in realization, gripping the edges of the tub and pulling herself forward.
His hand at the side of the tub stopped her, resting gingerly over her chest.
"What's wrong?" His eyes were wide as he eased her back down, submerging her upper body again in the water.
She shook her head, grasping his hand tightly. "I lost everything! I left your knife in that man!"
"Good." Locke said. His eyes looking uncharacteristically dark.
She relaxed, unknowingly maintaining her grip on his hand.
"What happened, Celes?" His voice was full of angst and despair like she had never heard before.
"These men, they attacked me. They... were so strong." She ran her tongue over her dry lips, tasting the blood that clotted there. Her mind was a muddled drunken mess and it was mildly frustrating to conjure the words to communicate. "I killed one with your knife before they could do anything. The other got away."
Locke rested his forehead to the tub and exhaled slowly. His pale hair hung in clumps just inches above the water. She reached her hand slowly and ran her fingers through the strands lightly, something she'd never do had she been in her right mind.
The touch caused him to raise his gaze to hers again with a small smile. His eyes shown with what looked to be suppressed tears.
"I-I'm glad you got away. I just wish I was there, you know?"
Celes frowned, taking her hand back into the water. "I don't need you to escort me around. Have you forgotten who I am? Who I was?"
"No." He spoke with urgency, "I haven't. I'd never want to forget. I just think you and me together could've caused them the damage they deserved."
Celes watched his confident expression falter slightly, as if contemplating deeply what to say next.
"It's just... there's some bad people in this town. If something else happened I couldn't live with myself."
The stress in his eyes was apparent before, but now shown different intensity like she'd never seen before.
"I know you don't need protection, Celes." He continued at last, eyes looking at hers squarely. "But I know I can make things easier on you. I want to."
Locke grabbed her hand again and she felt her heart accelerate again. She felt drowsy, but didn't dare fall asleep in her state.
"I was just getting supplies."
He smiled softly, visibly relieved. "I know."
"I didn't mean... to cause so much trouble for you and Sabin. We're supposed to be looking for Terra and I feel I've made things so much worse."
"No." Locke's voice was barely above the level of a whisper.
Locke coaxed her out of the tub with a dry towel. He eased her down on the ledge of the tub and gently helped her into the fresh clothes that Sabin had fetched for her. Sadly, anything made for women in Zozo was less than decent, so she was confined to leggings and a small framed man's tunic, but she welcomed the looseness and comfort of clean, dry fabric against her skin.
She protested when Locke soaked a rag in elixir and held it against her wounds, but he gently treated her with it anyway. The warmth from the solution soothed her wounds, and relieved the dull ache in her skull.
As she came to she felt mild embarrassment over Locke seeing her in such a state, and kneeling over her naked body in the tub. She pretended not to relish the feeling of his arm across her back and his grip on her shoulder as he walked her to the bed that their companions had saved for her and eased her down under the covers.
The next thing she remembered was waking to feeling him breathing softly beside her. For a moment she thought him asleep, but as her eyes adjusted in the darkness she realized he was anything but, wide awake and arms crossed at the crook of his neck on top of her covers, eyes up at the ceiling in deep thought.
She would be a liar if she didn't admit to herself that she felt comfort from the ordeal by his presence, but felt immediate guilt rush over her at the thought.
Sometime later, in the still hours of the morning, she felt his lips press against her forehead. She lay still, listening to the rustle of the sheets as he turned away from her.
A/N: Poor Celes. :/. I debated writing the graphic nature of the first part of the story, but I felt like it was necessary. Celes is tough as nails and I think something like this would be commonplace in Zozo. Next 2 chapters will be lighter!