(Note-I changed my pen name! Formerly Lecritic, in case you followers were wondering who the hell I am!)

The air station was deserted. A sign outside the building still listed flight arrivals but the usual bustle of foot traffic in and out of the building was totally absent. Most of the fights in and out of the place were domestic or trade-only routes, but at this hour there should have been more activity.

A chill went up Quistis' spine as a light breeze sent debris from the gutter across the street. Esthar was usually spotless. Street sweepers made the rounds twice a day to ensure litter was cleaned up and the desert beyond city walls was kept at bay, but crushed Styrofoam cups and plastic bags and dried leaves from the shrubbery, along with the ever present sand had built-up along the curb. Already, nature was taking back her stolen desert.

This was more disconcerting than anything else. In less time than she thought possible, the desert would reclaim the city a grain of sand at a time and if they did nothing to stop it, it would soon become a big concern.

Past the air station was a series of restaurants and hotels. A lone man shuffled across the road, his gait awkward and uncoordinated. The sound that came from his mouth was an eerie cross between a wail of pain and some otherworldly animal-like shriek. Deeply unnatural and terrifying.

At her side, Nida stiffened and thumbed his pistol. Quistis mimicked his behavior and her hand curled tightly around the tang of her whip. The whole group fell into silence as the man continued his solitary and ungainly shuffle across the road.

He hadn't noticed them. If they could avoid attracting his attention, maybe he would move on. She motioned for everyone to halt, and the group came to a stop at the mouth of a dark alley. The shuffle of the man's shoes against the cold blue surface of the street was the loudest thing in then night. If they were lucky, he would bypass them, move along, and they could continue.

Except, the man didn't. At the edge of the opposite sidewalk, he stopped, lifted his head and sniffed. He smelled the breeze and turned in a circle. The strange, eerie noise he made before became a low, wet-sounding growl and then a howl of rage as he spotted them standing motionless nearby.

It was with great regret that Quistis lifted her pistol instead of her whip, aimed at his head and pulled the trigger. Beside her, Nida gave a grunt of dismay and disgust as the bullet pierced the man's temple. Quistis remembered only then that Nida had little to no combat experience, and the last time he'd fought was during Norg's attempt to overthrow Cid. His time away from it had softened him and made him forget what it was like.

It fazed Quistis little as she watched the man stagger, flail and take two steps before he slid gracelessly to the ground. He lay on the street and twitched and thrashed as the life drained from his body. Beside her, Nida retched.

Odine told her that they felt no pain, but that didn't stop her from signaling Cash, the youngest of the Palace Security team to put the man out of his misery. A second shot rang out in the night and they moved on in silence.

Quistis' eyes were on the shadows, the dark side streets and all the places where someone could hide. She did not want to be caught unaware, and if there was one, there were sure to be more. No one spoke as they continued on, past restaurants and shops until they reached the bus depot.

Six buses were parked in the small terminal, but all six were empty. The destination displays above the big front windows of each one said out of service. There was no one around. Here, small drifts of sand plied against the curb and the awning support pillars.

She checked her watch and frowned. The bus was due in half an hour ago. Perhaps it had run late.

The small information and ticket booth was empty and unlocked. Quistis opened the door and ushered everyone inside. It made more sense to wait in the shelter of the booth than stand out in the open where they might attract any of the Zombie-like... People?

Quistis didn't even know what to call them. Zombie only half-worked. They were not truly Zombies, but there were enough similarities to label them as such. She supposed it only mattered if a need to categorize them arose.

They waited in silence, and as the minutes ticked by, Quistis became more and more certain there would be no bus.

Nearly half an hour passed while Quistis weighed the pros and cons of waiting. The booth had grown too warm from too many bodies crammed into such a small space. Beads of sweat rolled down Nida's face. The older Palace guard, Fitzroy, tugged at the neck of his shirt. Another, named Jae, thumbed the safety of his pistol on and off with a click-click, click-click, that set Quistis' nerves on edge.

When the 45 minute mark came and went, Quistis called it. There was little value in endangering themselves any longer for a bus that may or may not come. She had Fitzroy draw a map to Esthar Garden, then penned a note for the driver in bold, black marker in the event they showed up. She posted the map face-out, in clear view on the window inside the booth, then led her team back out into the night.

Disappointment wasn't a strong enough word for what Quistis felt as the left the station. Thoughts of those children and their safety bumped around in her head and turned to a sentiment not unlike grief. Most of the city was either sick, turned, or dead, and all she could think about was the possibility she'd failed somehow.

"Heads up, Commander," Cash said, "two-o-clock, three bodies on the move."

Quistis pushed back her worries and scanned the area for the threat. A very human scream ripped through the night as two men chased a young woman across a restaurant parking lot. Her body language said she was very much alive, and so were her pursuers.

"You can run, but you can't hide, sweetheart!" one of the men shouted.

The woman spotted them and shrieked out a plea as she sprinted toward the Garden team.

"HELP ME!"

Quistis lifted her pistol and fired at the ground near the men's feet. They halted their pursuit, but one lifted a shotgun and aimed in Quistis' direction.

She had no fear of them. A shotgun was no match for a 9mm bullet at this range, even if loaded with a more powerful round than standard buckshot. Her companions followed her lead and trained their own pistols on the two men.

"Stop where you are," Quistis ordered. "Put your weapons down."

The girl joined Quistis group, out of breath and her face streaked with tears. She sobbed in relief as Nida reached out to her and pushed her behind him to act as a shield. In the parking lot, the men stood motionless in a stand-off until Quistis fired a second shot into the pavement.

The unarmed man jumped, stumbled backward and landed on his backside.

"Drop the weapon," Quistis said. "Now."

The man with the shotgun slowly lowered it and placed it on the ground at his feet.

"Kick it away from you," Quistis said. "And put your hands in the air."

The man's reluctance was clear, but he placed his foot on the weapon and shoved it away.

What to do? Find out the reason for their behavior or leave them to the elements and the creatures of the night? Lives were precious, but Quistis had no place at Garden for would-be thugs who chased unarmed girls through the dark and dangerous streets.

"Stole something from me," one said.

"That's a lie," the girl cried from behind Nida. "They tried to attack me."

The fear in her voice was enough proof for Quistis. She stepped forward and aimed at the man formerly in possession of the shotgun.

"Both of you on the ground."

"Fuck you."

Quistis fired another round out of sheer annoyance. He jumped as the bullet tore a hole through the sleeve of his jacket.

"Say that again," she said. "I dare you."

"Listen, lady -"

"On the ground or I won't miss next time."

Both of them went to their knees and stretched out face down. Quistis instructed them to put their hands behind their heads, then approached cautiously with her team at her back. They kept their weapons trained on the pair, and Quistis was grateful to have capable people at her back.

"Are there more of you?" Quistis asked, "or are you two just roaming around harassing young women for fun?"

Neither responded.

"We can do this one of two ways," she said. "We can either shackle you two together and leave you for dead, or you can speak up. Which is it going to be?"

One of the men grunted out a curse but that didn't answer her question.

"Cuff them," Quistis said.

"Wait!" the man cried. "There's a group of survivors holed up at the Esthar Hotel."

"How many?"

"Ten, counting us."

"And what is the point of attacking her?"

"Hey, we're just trying to survive, just like you."

Quistis crouched down next to his head and turned his face toward hers.

"I fail to see how she fits into your survival plan."

"I got nothin' to say."

"Have it your way," Quistis said. She stood and shook off her annoyance as she looked to Cash and Fitzroy. "Take care of them."

As they walked away, Fitzroy admired his new shotgun and Quistis found another thing add to her list of worries.

It was not outside the realm of possibility that there were other bands of survivors. In any disaster scenario, it was reasonable to expect a subset of survivors to use less ethical means to ensure they stayed alive. There was no one left around to enforce laws or moral codes and Quistis should have anticipated she might encounter survivors that thought they could get away with anything.

She didn't hear the low growl to her left until it escalated into a animal snarl and she was thrown to the ground by the impact of a body as it slammed into hers. Her head cracked against the sidewalk and pain rocketed through her head. Something snarled. Hot breath, too close to her ear. Hard fingers pressed into her vest. She threw back an elbow and made contact with the attacker's chin, and she struggled to break free but was pinned down by his or her weight.

A gunshot split the silence and a warm spray of blood splashed over her hair and gloved arm. The twitching-flailing body lifted away and she pushed to her feet as Jae a second round into the body.

"Thanks," she said.

"Guy came out of nowhere," Jae said.

All around them, an eerie, howl rose up and echoed through the otherwise quiet night. Quistis gripped her whip and her pistol and spun around in search of the source of the sound. Shadows moved along the sidewalks and in the alleys, followed by shapes of men and women and children and all of them moved with the same strange jerky shuffle that signaled they were not friendly.

There were dozens of them.

All Seifer could see of her were her eyes. Blue tourmaline, icy cold and flecked with a darker sapphire and gold. Crystaline-frosty-pale irises framed in stark white. He was filled with devotion so absolute, he would have surrendered to any whim in the space of a heartbeat. He loved her completely, totally, with every shred of the blackened soul that remained inside him.

He hated her with every fiber of his being, too. She was the worst part of himself, the proverbial dragon he couldn't slay.

Something in those frozen tundra eyes crackled with energy and burned right through him like a brushfire in a field of dry tinder.

Surrender, boy. You can fight it, but no matter what you do, you will always be mine.

The blue of her irises shifted from a cold winter sky to steely gray to a bright, burning amber. Her pupils enlarged to swallow the warmth before they reshaped themselves into spades. Filigree whorls edged in hot gold twined around the shape and twisted like coils of smoke from the end of a burning cigarette. Simultaneously entranced and horrified, he was drawn in, powerless to back away from the very thing he knew he should run from.

Mine.

How could he love so completely and hate so much? How could he be so tempted to believe every lie her eyes promised? She had stripped the flesh from his bones and put him back together a monster. She would do it again if he let himself believe, even for a second, that what she offered was real. She would take him apart and rebuild him again, shape him into the perfect Knight, but she would rip out his guts and all the parts that made him, him.

You can't escape me. One way or another, you will submit.

He was on his knees and the scent seared flesh and smoke burned his nostrils. The touch of her mouth to his was at once repellent and seductive. Sharp nails raked over his scalp and dug in. The urge to kill ran hot in his veins. He wanted to feel the tip of his blade pierce through flesh and bone, to feel the warm flow of blood on his skin, wanted to bathe in it, drink it in as he watched the light fade from her amber eyes.

But even then, he would never be free.

His place was here, with her and there was no escape. She had scratched her name on his heart, the bonds of service a steady throb in his chest. She dragged him down and left him breathless and naked, his muscles clenched in a mingled blend of ecstasy and agony and he knew nothing else but her.

He belonged... and there were too many mouths on his, too many hands, and fire licked his skin like a lover's caress. It felt so good, he forgot why he was supposed to resist, so good any thoughts but those of her spiraled way from him and not even his own name mattered.

Who are you?

"I'm yours."

Connection Error. Please Try Again.

"Damn it," Xu swore as she punched the reload button on her computer and frowned. "Come on, you piece of crap. Connect!"

The phones were down and now the worldwide com-link, too. There was no way to contact Quistis in Esthar, no way to reach out to Caraway and no way to signal their distress.

Not that there was anyone out there to listen. Or anywhere safe to go. For all she knew, Esthar was in just as bad a shape as everywhere else. Quistis might be sick, or worse, turned, and there was no way for Xu to know for sure.

Dr. Kadowaki had confirmed twelve more cases, and suspected a dozen or more would show signs by morning. This thing worked fast, that was for sure. Xu did not hold onto any hope that they would survive aboard Garden. It would burn through the cadets and remaining SeeDs, and Xu was certain it was only a matter of time before she showed signs herself.

The prospect of death was less scary for Xu than the prospect of being one of those that didn't die. She'd seen and done horrible things in her years as a SeeD, and she had little remorse when it came to killing, but the idea of ending up a brainless, drooling flesh-eating machine was not in her wheelhouse. She would rather put a bullet in her head than turn.

She sat back and pressed her fingertips to her forehead, sure there was some way she could communicate without the usual technology. She just didn't know what.

Dr. Kadowaki entered Xu's office without knocking and sat down at the desk. The older woman pushed a paper cup of coffee across the surface to Xu's waiting hand. Xu took a long sip and offered a weak smile.

"It's getting worse," the doctor said. "And there's bad news."

"Worse than it already is?"

"Much worse," Dr. Kadowaki said.

"Do I even want to hear it?"

"Probably not, but..."

Dr. Kadowaki rolled back her sleeve and revealed the imprint of human teeth in the meat of her arm. The skin was broken, the flesh around it bright pink and blistered on the edges.

The bottom dropped out of Xu's stomach and she pressed a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. There were few in this world Xu was emotionally attached to, and Dr. K was one of them. She had counted on Dr. Kadowaki's assistance to help manage this mess, and now the only mother she'd really known was as good as dead.

"You need to get off this floating death trap," the doctor advised. "That's the only chance you'll have for survival."

"Leonhart thought -"

"You can't rely on him anymore," Dr. K said. "He's compromised."

"He's sick, too?"

"In a manner of speaking. Physically he's fine, but mentally..."

Xu had counted on Leonhart, too. Not that she was a fan of the kid. He had about as much personality as a slice of dry white toast and was about as interesting, but he was smart, level-headed and had good instincts. Not that Xu couldn't get by without him, it would just be a lot easier.

"Is there anywhere to go anymore?" Xu wondered aloud.

"I doubt it, but... I'd try for Esthar, if I were you."

"RAGE!"

Fujin's hands balled into fists and she stepped toward Selphie with a menacing glare. Raijin reached out and grabbed Fujin's wrist and pushed her back and away as he pressed a potion into her palm. Seifer was on the ground, out cold with a huge lump on the back of his head where Selphie had whacked him with her nunchaku. Now was not the time for a tiny-person brawl, even if it would be interesting to watch.

"Take care of him, ya know?" Raijin said.

"RAGE!"

"I know, Fuu, but Seifer needs to be fixed up, ya know?" Raijin said. "Take care of him, okay?"

Fujin hesitated then gave a terse nod. She crouched down beside Seifer to tend to his battered head. Seifer's face was pale, his eyes sunken. That was not a result of Selphie's attack.

"Whaddidya do that for, ya know?" Raijin demanded. Selphie stood firm, brandishing her weapon with a coldly furious expression on her pretty face. "He didn't do nothing to you!

"Trabia!" Selphie shouted. "That's why! Because of him, a bunch of my friends died. He deserved a lot worse."

"Sef, it's okay," Irvine assured her. He ran his hands up and down her arms to soothe her. Raijin was glad for his intervention. Selphie looked as though she would like to slit Seifer's throat while he lay helpless on the ground. "Give the guy a break. Maybe he had his reasons."

Of all the things they'd done over the course of Seifer's knighthood, that was the one thing Raijin was really and truly sorry for. Trabia was just a bunch of kids and no real threat to anyone. Sure, they were training the kids to be SeeDs, but it wasn't as if they'd had active combat specialist SeeDs at the time. Raijin had tried to reason with Seifer. He'd tried to convince him to leave Trabia alone, but because the Sorceress had wanted it, there was no changing Seifer's mind.

"I'm really sorry about that, ya know?" Raijin said. "If we coulda done something, we woulda. But it ain't all Seifer's fault. He was just doing what he was told, and he didn't have no other choice."

Selphie's lips pressed into a thin line and she turned away from them and fiddled with her walkie-talkie.

"She woulda killed him if he'd refused, ya know?" Raijin continued. "And then she would have done it anyway."

"That doesn't make it okay!" Selphie said.

"No, it doesn't," Raijin agreed. "But, like, it's too late to fix it. Bein' mad at him won't change it, ya know?"

He paused and looked down at his feet, ashamed of himself for his part in the whole mess.

"I'm real sorry, Selphie," Raijin said. "I'm sure he is too, ya know? Even if he never says it to you, the stuff he did is gonna haunt him forever. I mean, just imagine being made to do stuff that you don't wanna do and not being able to stop yourself from doing it."

Selphie paused but didn't turn around. Maybe she was listening.

"We were there," Raijin said. "We saw how he changed. He never liked taking orders. Not from nobody. That's how we knew he wasn't right, and you can't blame him for that, ya know?"

Selphie sniffled and lifted her walkie-talkie to her lips as though Raijin hadn't spoken.

"Quistis, come back."

"..."

"Say again?"

"...back up!"

"You need back up?" Selphie asked.

On the ground, Seifer sat abruptly with a loud curse and a half scream. His eyes were wild and bloodshot and he clutched his hand to the back of his head where Selphie had struck him. He blinked blearily at Fujin and the panic melted into relief.

"The hell?"

"...Surrounded. Send anyone you can, Sef! Air Station. If you can hear me, we are surrounded. Send anyone available to the Air Station – oh!"

"Quistis?" Selphie cried into the walkie. "Come back. Are you okay?

"...need assistance..."

Selphie squared her shoulders and looked around at the group. Her eyes passed over Seifer as if he wasn't there and she turned to Instructor Aki.

"Take the kids back to Garden," she said. "Everyone else, we're headed to the Air Station."

"What about Seifer, ya know?"

"I'm fine," he grouched and pushed to his feet. He swayed unsteadily but righted himself. His jaw clenched and his eyes turned steely as his eyes fell on Selphie. "I can fight."

"Whatever," Selphie said. "I don't care. Just don't expect me to stop if you pass out again or something."

As if she hadn't knocked Seifer upside the head by the three foot long, weighted end of her nunchaku. To his credit, Seifer only stared back instead of smarting off. Seifer should probably be headed to the infirmary, but Raijin knew better than to argue. Seifer did as Seifer pleased. He'd rather bleed to death than admit he was injured.

"Lets go."

Seifer dropped his gunblade case next to the exit and opened it. Inside, Hyperion lay nestled in its molded bed, cleaned and oiled and ready to go. After everything that happened, he didn't want to touch it. It wasn't out of guilt, it was everything else. As he lifted it out and held it aloft, he got that old sense of...

What? Power?

He shook it off and gave the weapon a once-over. Everything was in working order. Better this than the rifle. He'd always done more damage in close combat, and truth be told, he liked being close enough to his opponent that he could see where the weapon struck. Much easier to hit a target, even when they were moving.

"SHARP," Fujin warned as he ran a finger along the edge of the blade.

It was sharp, all right. His finger came away with something similar to a paper cut, though not as annoying or as deep. It was sharp enough to shave with, and that was as he liked it.

"Okay, guys," Selphie said. "I don't know what's out there or how many, but Quisty needs us, so don't hold back."

Quistis.

Seifer didn't know how he felt about seeing her again. Or how she might feel about him being here. Whatever. It didn't matter. They'd deal with that when the time came.

He readied his blade and handed his rifle over to Raijin. "Hang on to this for me."

"Nice," Irvine said with a nod toward the gun. "I once shot a deer, almost 1000 yards out with one of those. Kicks like a pissed off chocobo, but they're damn accurate."

"Pain in the ass close range," Seifer said. "Better off clubbing 'em with it."

"Makes a hell of a mess," Irvine agreed.

Raijin opened the door. Seifer was not glad to go back out there, but he assumed Quistis had secured a safe location, and they would eventually find themselves there. With a decent sized team at his back, Seifer had more confidence in his continued survival than he might on his own.

He needed rest, a hearty meal and a shower and he needed those things soon. Otherwise, he was going to get himself killed and he was all too aware that the decisions he'd made the last few days were less than brilliant, due to stress, exhaustion and fear.

The street above was deserted, but the clap of gunfire from somewhere nearby echoed through the streets and he readied his weapon for battle. Hyperion still fit his hand perfectly, but it was heavier than he remembered. Six months on the couch had stripped away some of his former musculature, and he was no longer used to the once familiar blade.

Not so long ago, Hyperion had been a part of his identity. An extension of himself, and now it was almost unfamiliar. That might be a problem if it came down to a tough fight. The last thing he needed was to be hindered by his own weapon.

No one spoke as they followed Selphie toward the Air Station. The sounds of gunfire mingled with shouts and eerie howls and Seifer gritted his teeth in anticipation.

When they rounded the corner, there were too many. Way too many. Even more than he'd encountered in Trabia.

Seifer recognized none of the people engaged in battle with the creepers, but he surged forward, blade raised and cut down the first one he encountered. Hyperion sliced deep into its neck, half beheading it. A deep satisfaction swelled in his veins as he withdrew Hyperion from its twitching body and he remembered how much he used to enjoyed this.

He spared the creeper a quick glance to ensure it was down and moved onto the next. Somewhere on his left, Fujin's cry of triumph brought a smile to his face. Already, her pale hair was bloodstained and she growled as she moved on to the next.

All around him, the SeeDs and Estharian team engaged in a literal bloodbath as they cut their way through the brainless, drooling idiots. Seifer may have been exhausted, hungry and dirty, but adrenaline ran hot in his blood as his instinct for battle took over.

He cut down one after another, but even as the eight of them descended upon the creepers like a swarm of agitated bite bugs, there were still too many. It didn't make sense to fight them all. The best plan of action was to clear a path so Quistis' team could escape, then run like hell.

Quistis was nowhere that he could see. As he fought, he kept his eyes peeled for the flash of her serrated whip and the honey gold of her hair.

Nothing.

"The hell is Trepe?" he called out to one of the Estharians. "She go down?"

"Don't know," he answered. "Lost track."

One by one, Seifer cut through them, blasts of gunfire and shouts of triumph, frustration and pain in his ears. His whole body sang with the thrill of the fight. This was what he'd missed during his long days of isolation, he just hadn't known it then. Even in his mental and physical exhaustion, he delighted in a good, hard brawl.

There was no sign of Quistis anywhere. Not on the ground, not on the street.

Seifer forced his way through the throng until he found Tilmitt flogging a fallen creeper with her weapon. Her elfin face was savage and spattered with blood. Whatever grudge she had against him, she was clearly using it to her advantage.

He seized the walkie-talkie from her hip and ducked to avoid the small fist she threw in response.

"Give it back!" she cried.

Seifer wove away from her, skirted an incoming creeper and batted away another as he lifted the device to his lips.

"Hey, Trepe. You alive?"

"..."

"Where the fuck are you, Trepe? Come back."

From the walkie came growling-shrieking, followed by gunfire. Somewhere on his left, corresponding blasts echoed and Seifer followed the sound.

"Make some noise, I'm commin' to get you. Yell or scream or something."

Her voice, unintelligible but loud, spilled from an alley and Seifer sprinted toward it. He knocked a few of the creepers out of his way as he went, sliced at a few, but he wasn't going to waste time fighting them off. If he could get to her, they could fight their way back out or find a different way.

"Article 55, Part B! A SeeD shall use any means necessary to obtain information pertinent to the mission should mission parameters fail to cover certain aspects of the assignment!"

Well that was an ironic choice, wasn't it?

He rounded the corner into the alley. From above came a muzzle flash, followed by a second. Quistis was on the fire escape, pursued by three of them as more milled about below and attempted to climb the rickety ladder.

She was on the fourth-floor landing, her hands curled around the ladder above. As she pulled herself up, one of them wrapped a hand around her ankle. She kicked at it to release its hold, but it wouldn't let go. She fired and its head exploded in a spray of brain and blood that pelted Seifer as he tried to dodge an incoming attack.

She was too far up for her to jump, and there were too many to follow her.

"You got float?" he called.

"Seifer?"

"Let's save the reunion for later," he growled as he shoved his blade through a creeper's gut. "Do you have float, yes or no?"

"Yes!"

"Cast it, then jump," he said. "I'll catch you. Promise."

"What?!"

"Just do it, Trepe."

Though he hated the idea of using his chi, he called on it, hand extended toward the cluster of brain eaters and let it ride. A coil of molten light swirled from his fingertips and it blasted out of him and into the group like a bottle rocket. Their clothing caught on fire, and the attack agitated them, but it did not take a single one down. Seifer muttered a swear, backed up as they turned on him and conjured a second ball of flame. It swelled in his palm and coiled up his arm like tendrils of a vine. That strange, unhinged and out of control sensation prickled along his flesh as the energy built in his limbs.

"Change of plan, Trepe," he called up to her. "See that open window beside you?"

"...yes."

"Get inside and get down."

Seifer Almasy was the last person Quistis expected to come to her rescue. But here he was, alive and ready to play hero. For the first time, Quistis didn't hate him for it.

How she'd gotten separated and cut off from the group, she didn't know, but it had been a chaotic free-for-all that it had been all too easy to get lost in. Her aim had been to escape them and circle back around, but they'd cornered her in this alley and the only way out was to go up.

Down below, Seifer was covered in fire, from head to toe. He'd instructed her to take cover, but she was awe-struck by the power he displayed. Her fingers gripped the edge of the ledge of the broken window and she kicked the remaining pane with the heel of her boot, but her eyes were focused on the man-shaped inferno below.

"Goddamn it, Trepe, now!"

She pulled herself into the room just as a blast roared through the alley and she ducked, covered her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Heat and tongues of flame licked overhead and she curled into a ball on the floor as a low rumble came from the open window above.

When all fell silent, she lifted her head and peered out the window. Seifer, on his knees, head bowed to the ground, was surrounded by bodies so charred, it was impossible to recognize them as male or female. She pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide as she rose to her feet.

"You can come down now," he called.

Quistis stuck one leg through the window, just as a crowd appeared at the mouth of the alley.

"You come up," she called. "We'll find another way."

Seifer was visibly shaken, his legs unsteady beneath him as he stood, but he took one look at the approaching horde and latched onto the ladder. He climbed with an agile swiftness that she didn't expect, and he reached the window within a minute. Quistis withdrew into the room as Seifer hauled himself inside and did a sweep of the hotel room.

He was all business as he stalked across the carpeted space and without a word, motioned for her to follow.

"Are you bitten?" she asked as the trekked into the hall. "Injured?"

"Naw, you?"

"No."

"Blood in your hair," he remarked.

"Not mine."

The door at the end of the hall opened to a narrow staircase and Quistis followed Seifer down. On the first floor, they found themselves in the lobby of what looked to be a high end hotel. It was deserted, but low, wet growls echoed from the direction of the conference rooms and Quistis had no interest in engaging. The best thing to do for now was retreat and get back to safety.

She had no idea it was this bad. For all the videos of Deling City and reports she'd seen, none of them had prepared her for this.

"The hell are you guys doing wandering around out there?"

"We were expecting children," she snapped. "I couldn't very well leave them to die."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Of course I'm not," she said. "They're my responsibility."

"There's a good chance they're dead," Seifer said. "Haven't you been paying attention to what's going on out here? Or have you been too busy kissing ass to notice?"

Quistis balled her hands into fists and repressed the urge to hit him.

"You have no idea what I've been dealing with," she said. "Don't pretend you do."

"Yeah, well, goes both ways Trepe," he said. "But, if you've spent any time outside in the last week, you'd know wandering around out here is fucking stupid. For any reason. Kids included."

Quistis shoved him, hard. He stumbled backward, surprised by her forcefulness.

"Feisty," he said. "Not very nice, considering I just saved your ass."

"I could have gotten out on my own, thank you very much."

"You looked pretty well cornered back there, so I'd say you owe me."

"I don't owe you anything," she said.

The volume of snarling from the hall increased and Quistis bit back every insult and smart retort she could have uttered in favor of avoiding an unnecessary confrontation.

"Let's just get out of here," she said.

Outside, the battle continued half a block away. She called out an order to retreat as she jogged toward the fray. Beside her, Seifer kept up with ease. That was, until he stumbled, landed on the heels of his palms and skidded across the slick surface of the road.

"Get up, Almasy," she ordered.

Even in the semi-darkness, his face was unusually pale. He swayed as she hoisted him to his feet by the collar of his jacket and he pressed a hand over his mouth like he was about to vomit. Either he was injured or sick and had lied about it, or he was still reeling from the effects of his fire-chi.

Whatever, she would deal with him once they were safe.

She slung his arm over her shoulders for support, ignored his snarl of protest, and hurried toward the mob as gunshots continued to ring out in the night.

"SEIFER," Fujin demanded. "HURT?"

"m'fine," he muttered.

His head lolled on his neck and he nearly slipped to the ground as his legs gave out. If not for Raijin, he would have dragged Quistis down with him. The big man steadied them both, then lifted Seifer like he weighed nothing and slung him across his shoulders. Seifer gave a weak threat of causing bodily violence but had no strength to follow up on it. He hung here, semi-conscious and limp in Raijin's grasp.

"Selphie, withdraw," Quistis shouted as the tiny girl wrapped the chains of her weapon around the neck of her target. "Forget them and let's go!"

The two teams ran full tilt toward the tunnel. Nida lagged behind, the girl they'd rescued on his back. Raijin fell behind the group too, slowed by Seifer's weight, but Fujin flanked him and occasionally fired when one of them got too close.

Irvine and Fitzroy flung the door open and Quistis stood aside to usher everyone down the stairs, while keeping her handgun trained on their tail, in case one those things planned to invite themselves along. She was the last in, and her heart was in her throat as she did a head count. If everyone survived, there should have been fourteen, counting herself. There were only twelve.

"Cash?" she asked. "And who else?"

"Mullins," Selphie said. "He went down early."

"Anyone get bitten?"

A tall, slender man from Selphie's Esthar team stepped forward. His face was ashen, and he pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal an ugly, bloody bite on his neck. Without a word, he tossed Quistis his gun and nodded. Quistis' stomach turned at the thought of what he was asking her to do, but she nodded in return. She would ask the same in his shoes.

"The rest of you," she said. "Head back."

"Quistis?" Selphie asked in a small voice. "What are you going to do?"

Seifer's eyes were on her, and though fuzzy with disorientation, his nod of agreement steeled Quistis' resolve to handle it.

"...what I have to."

Notes: Sorry for the delay. I've had some health stuff happen over the last month or so that prevented/distracted me from getting chapters edited/posted/etc. All is well and hopefully, I'll be able to update with more regularity.

If I haven't responded to your recent reviews, I'm sorry! I have not kept up with them the way I usually do, so if I missed responding to a signed review, I didn't mean to. I am grateful for every review, and I thank everyone who took a minute to leave one, or those who followed or favorited this story. :)