25

Rinoa paced the living room as Squall watched from the couch. In his lap, a sleepy-eyed Ari yawned hugely and nuzzled his cheek against Squall's chest.

"Sit down," Squall said. "They'll be fine."

She paused and turned toward him.

"Four against one is fair odds, isn't it?" she asked. "They can take her, right?"

Squall couldn't honestly answer in the affirmative. Even with their combined experience, it might not be enough, given what Thalia could do. And if Seifer was injured, their odds of a victory were greatly diminished. Squall didn't share his concern but offered his hand instead.

Rinoa slipped onto the couch beside him and her fingers twined through his.

"I want her dead," she whispered. "I want to make sure she can't hurt us or our friends ever again."

"I know."

She could not fight this fight, no matter how badly she wished to avenge him. What he might lose was far greater than what she would gain. No argument she could come up with could persuade him or change his mind on that point. He needed her, here, safe and away from the danger.

"Where's Ella?" he asked.

"Finishing her homework," Rinoa said. "School tomorrow."

Squall nodded and shifted the drowsy toddler in his lap. Ari babbled something about his turtle and burrowed his face deeper into Squall's shirt. Squall clasped a hand against the boy's head and steadied him as Rinoa smoothed down unruly curls, so like the ones Rinoa's father hid beneath a layer of pomade.

"Why don't you put him to bed?" Rinoa suggested.

"Thought you said it was too early."

"He's going to fall asleep, one way or another," she said. "No point in trying to make him stay up. I don't know what Laguna does to wear him out like this, but it happens every time..."

"I can only imagine," Squall said as he rose to his feet.

"Want me to carry him up for you?"

"I'll manage," Squall said. "He's not that heavy."

Rinoa waited at the bottom of the steps and watched Squall ascend. He hugged the wall, cane in one hand, his son braced against his chest with the other. The going was slow, but he made it to the top without incident and with an unexpected sense of accomplishment. A month ago, climbing the stairs on his own was a daunting and exhausting task, but he never thought he would feel pride about being able to carry his boy up the stairs.

Squall didn't immediately put Ari in his crib, but eased himself into the rocking chair by the window and held his son. In the fading daylight, he examined the tiny, pudgy fist balled against his chest and breathed in the scent of Ari's hair.

He missed so many things in the time he was gone. He couldn't afford to miss anything else – not the big things and not the mundane, everyday things either. Those small moments were just as important as the monumental ones and Squall vowed he would not miss another.

Ella appeared in the doorway and hesitated there, one hand against the frame and back-lit by the hall light so that her hair showed hints of copper and gold. Squall held out an hand to her and she drifted into the room, to his side and slipped into his lap. Ari smiled at her and wrapped his little fingers around hers.

"Lella," he murmured. "Lubbew"

"Love you, too, Lil Dude," she said and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

Ari's giggle turned into a yawn and an unintelligible mutter as Ella laid her head against Squall's shoulder.

For all he'd endured, and for all he missed, he was lucky to be here, alive and healthy enough to hold his kids. It didn't matter that there was no job to go back to, or that he would never be able to fight the way he did before, or even that his body and mind would always bear scars of the last two years. Maybe, he would suffer from nightmares and anxiety for years to come, from flashbacks and moments where trauma undermined his confidence, but those things were fleeting; they would pass. This was what was real, and it was the only thing that mattered.

"Get all your homework done, Stella Raine?"

"Yep," she said. "I had to write a story for Language Arts."

"What was it about?"

"Being a kid and nobody tells you stuff."

Squall nuzzled the top of her head and kissed the part in her hair.

"I wish I could tell you that goes away when you get older, but it doesn't," Squall said. "Sometimes, you get left out of things, miss important details... or sometimes things look like something they're not..."

"I don't like getting left out," she said. "Just because I'm a kid doesn't mean I'm dumb."

"Is there something you want to ask me, kiddo?"

"Just... Something bad's happening, isn't it?" she asked. "Like, with that lady who hurt you? And Aunt Ellone? They're fighting, aren't they?"

Squall almost lied. He almost brushed her concerns aside and told her everything was fine, not to worry, but that would be an insult to her intelligence. She was smart enough and old enough to figure out things were off, and she would know he was not telling the truth.

"Yeah," he said, "but I don't know if it's bad or not."

"What if she hurts Grandpa or Aunt Selphie?"

Squall smoothed back her hair and tightened his grip. Ella's fears were not unfounded. There was a very real possibility that this would not end well for someone they all cared about.

"Did you know that your Grandpa Laguna used to be a soldier?" Squall asked. "And your Aunt Selphie was a SeeD."

"So were you and you got hurt."

"You're right," he said. "But, I was alone, with no one there to back me up. Sometimes, it's too hard to fight all by yourself. You need other people to help you..."

He trailed off, let his chin rest against the top of her head and closed his eyes to muster the will to keep talking. Ella needed to hear this.

"That was one of the hardest things for me to learn when I was young," he said, "that sometimes, the only way to get through it is to rely on other people, that you can't always do everything on your own. Took me a long time to figure that out."

Ella brushed her fingers over the stump of his pinkie finger and he felt her frown against his collarbone.

"The world can be a really lonely place, Ella," he said. "Even when you're surrounded by people who care about you."

"Yeah, but nobody wants a kid hanging around all the time," she said. "Sometimes it's like we're invisible. The grown-ups act like we don't know anything."

"I'll always want you around," he promised. "In fact, you were the thing I missed most when I was gone."

"Not Mom?"

"I missed her too," Squall said. "Being away from you two hurt me more than anything else."

Hyne, that was the truth. Even after all the lies and illusions, the despair and the pain, deep down, there was never a time when he didn't miss his family or hurt because he believed he would never go home to them alive. Even when he thought he'd been betrayed.

"Don't ever be afraid to ask me questions, kiddo. I promise I'll always tell you the truth."

"Okay," she said and squeezed the end of his mangled pinkie. "Promise I will."

"Good. Anything else you want to know?"

"Well..."

"What is it?"

"I thought your finger would grow back," she said.

Squall suppressed a smile. "Why would you think that?"

"I dunno, but like, when a lizard loses the end of its tail, it grows back, so I thought maybe your finger would too?"

Squall couldn't help his laughter.

"Why's that funny?" she demanded.

"Because I'm not a lizard," he said with a smile. "Though some people might disagree."

"What's that mean?"

"Reptiles are cold-blooded animals, so... Sometimes, when I wasn't so nice to people at work, they made comparisons."

"Why weren't you nice to people?"

"Well, when you're the boss, sometimes you have to be tough, even if you don't want to be," Squall said. "If someone doesn't follow directions or does something dumb, that might cause someone else to get hurt. Kind of like when your mom gets onto you when you jump on the bed."

"Oh," she said. "So it's not gonna grow back, huh?"

"No," Squall said with a smile, "but it would be pretty cool if it did."

"Maybe I should write my story about that," she said thoughtfully. "The one I have is kinda sad."

"Nothing wrong with a sad story," he said. "But maybe you can write one about limb-regenerating lizard-Dad for fun. I think I'd really like to read that."

Ella giggled at that and poked Ari in the shoulder. Ari snorted but didn't budge.

"I think he's out," she said.

Squall peered down at his son, who snored softly against his chest. Long, dark lashes lay against his cheeks.

"I think you're right," Squall agreed. He checked the time. "Why don't you go start getting ready for bed while I put him down and I'll come tuck you in in a little while."

Ella groaned, but she slid out of his lap and headed for the door. She paused, turned around, a question clearly written all over her face.

"Dad?"

"What, sweetie?"

"Do you think... Would you call me Stella from now on? It sounds more grown-up."

But I don't want you to grow up... I'm not ready for that, I missed too much...

"It is your name, Stella Raine," he said.

"You made a rhyme," she said with a grin. "You're a poet and you didn't even know it!"

"Go get ready for bed, silly-head."

He watched her go, then eased Ari into the crib and covered him with a pale green crocheted blanket. Ari sighed heavily, grunted and smacked his lips as he settled in and Squall stood there, mesmerized. He laid a hand against Ari's back, and his throat tightened.

How could he ever deny the boy anything?

When he stepped away from the crib, the distorted shadow of a spider spilled across the carpet, its legs working as it spun its silken trap. He squeezed his eyes shut, counted backward from ten, and when he opened them, it was gone.

Illusion or not, it spooked him. He had no idea what his friends and family might face when they confronted Thalia. Their safety was no guarantee, and his longing to join the fight became an insatiable itch that he was forced to ignore. He wasn't in any shape to fight, his body still on the mend and his leg and wrists permanently lame. There was little he could do to help, and his place now was here, with his family. His days of fighting were done.

He checked Ari one last time and fled the room to say a quick goodnight to Ella and see her safely tucked in before he turned out the light.

"Love you, dad," she said.

"Love you too, kiddo," he said. "For ever and ever."

"And ever?"

"Always," he said and kissed her forehead.

He switched off the light and noticed she no longer slept with a night light.

She was growing up so fast. The days when she wouldn't need him anymore were on the horizon, and he couldn't get back the years he'd missed. All he could do now was make the best of the years between then and now and give her reasons to look back on her childhood with fondness and love.

He would give Ari the same. Come hell or high water, neither would want for his time, attention, or his devotion.

He closed the door to a crack and trekked down the stairs to find Rinoa preparing to leave. One arm was already stuffed inside her jacket, car keys in hand. Her Shooting Star was laid out on the console table in the foyer.

"Did they ask for back up?" he asked. She fumbled the keys and dropped them. They hit the tile with a clatter as she spun on him. "Or are you planning to sneak out?"

"...sneak," she said.

"Unless they ask us to come, we stay here."

"I can't do nothing."

Squall moved closer, into her personal space, tugged the jacked off her arm and tossed it aside. It hit the floor with a soft thud.

She would never learn, would she? That passionate, impulsive instinct that called her to act before she thought the action through was one of the things Squall loved most about her. She possessed courage in spades, she had a warrior's heart, and she was never one to stand aside when others were in trouble, all too often to her own detriment. It wasn't his way of doing things, and it never would be, but he could never accuse her of cowardice. Foolishness, yes. A lack of courage, no.

"What happens every time you go off all half-cocked because you feel like you have to prove yourself, Rin?"

She pursed her lips and looked away.

"I'm not trying to prove anything. I just want to help."

"If something happens, I can't save you this time."

He held out his damaged wrists for her to inspect. She glanced at them and turned her face away from the pale bands of scar tissue.

"It wouldn't be a question if the roles were reversed," she said. "You'd kill her and not even bat an eye."

That much was true, and he wouldn't deny it, but he couldn't let her leave, no matter how much she wanted Thalia dead.

"I know," he said softly. "But, Rin... You have to take a knee on this one. This isn't worth the risk."

"I know what I'm up against."

"You don't."

"You couldn't stop me if I decided to go anyway."

"No," he agreed, "but I'd sure as hell try."

"Please," she whispered. "Let me do this for you. Please."

Squall took her face between his palms and shook his head. He would always be reminded of Thalia in the scars she left behind. That was no escaping it, whether or not she lived.

There was nowhere to go now but forward, and that meant leaving all of it in the past where it belonged. He could not live with the fear and doubt she instilled, nor could he allow it to hold him back any longer. It was over, the fight was not in their hands. All he could do now was trust that by nightfall, the threat would be eliminated.

"I don't want revenge, Rin," he whispered back. "I don't need it."

"Then what do you need?"

Squall thought of Ella, asking him to call her Stella, and of Ari's soft, warm weight against his chest. About Rinoa, and the way her eyes went squinty when she smiled. Her fire and spirit. The way Ellone, in spite of everything, was the happiest he could remember seeing her. How Laguna stepped up when Squall needed him most. Seifer and his relentless, unapologetic way of forcing him to get up and keep going.

Everything he needed was right here.

"Just this."

"But -"

"I don't care if she lives or dies. I don't care," he said, and he meant it. "This isn't our fight."

Something about the way she looked at him pushed him past the point of no return. The knot that lingered in his throat since he lay Ari down in his crib swelled to the size of a small planet until he could barely swallow. He struggled to hold back, to keep it inside, but a harsh, painful sob burst out of him and he almost choked on it.

It all came out at once, too many emotions to make sense of – regret, panic, sorrow, anger, bitterness, pain, fear, love – they all blended together as Rinoa's arms encircled his waist. At her touch, he collapsed in on himself, reduced to a sobbing child and unable to stop himself from going to pieces.

Sounds he'd never made in his life bubbled up past his lips as he gave in to it and slipped to his knees. Rinoa guided his head to her shoulder as she joined him on the floor. She stroked his back and neck and too-short hair and murmured things he didn't hear through all the noise in his head.

He'd come too close to giving up, too close to death, but by some miracle he was still here. All he could do was ride out this loss of control, there was no stopping it.

Eventually, he ran out of steam and his hysteria quieted to the occasional choked sniffle. His throat and chest still hurt, his eyes burned, but the heavy stones of dread and fear were gone, as if letting go for a while purged their burden from his soul.

He didn't dare look at her, ashamed she was there to see him unravel. He pulled away from her embrace, dropped his forehead to his knees, and forced himself to take slow, measured breaths until the last of his anxiety dissolved.

"You know, I don't think broccoli pie will ever be funny to me again," she said. "Way to ruin our inside joke, Squall."

Squall laughed weakly and lifted his gaze to her face. Her eyes were rimmed in red, and her cheeks were still damp with tears, but she smiled and brushed the back of her knuckles against his jaw.

"I meant to give you something earlier and I forgot," she said as she dug into the pocket of her jeans to produce the platinum band he thought was lost forever. "I thought, maybe you'd want it back..."

He held out his hand, palm up to receive it and peered the inscription on the inside of the band.

I Promise.

He slipped it onto his finger and found it didn't quite fit anymore, but that was true of a lot of things. In time, it would fit again the way it did before. He hoped the same proved true about everything else.

"I have a long way to go, Rin," he said. "I don't want to be like this..."

"We."

"What?"

"We have a long way to go," she said. "You and me. You don't think I'd let you do this by yourself, do you?"

Squall tugged her back to him, took her face between his palms and kissed his wife for the first time in more than two years.

On light feet, Ellone searched the ground floor of Garden, section by section. When a pair of soldiers breezed past her on her way out of the infirmary, Ellone ducked into the shadows, her heart knocking hard against her ribs, so loud she was sure they could hear it.

She held her breath and waited until their footsteps faded before proceeding, then returned to the lobby, faced with a decision.

Up or down?

Below was the unfamiliar MD level, a place she'd never visited before. Above, classrooms and administrative offices. Thalia could be anywhere. Zell could be anywhere. Maybe she fled Garden all together and took poor Zell with her.

No. She was still here, somewhere. Ellone could feel it.

But where?

Up or down.

Pick one, go with it, El.

Seifer was right. No sense in debating it.

Up it was.

She took the stairs, her courage waning. She never expected to fight this fight alone. She'd never fought without Seifer there to back her up. Two years of training stacked against an adversary like Thalia looked pretty pitiful from where Ellone stood. She was out of her depth, on her own, and no longer sure this was a fight she could win.

Bullshit, Elle. You can take her.

Of course Seifer would be listening in on her doubts, but she was comforted by his voice. Just knowing he was still alive spurred her on.

All she could do now was go forward.

The second floor was clear, no sign of either Thalia or Zell. The only sound was the soft echo of Ellone's boot soles on the dirty floor.

She hoped someone got her message, that someone was on the way to help Seifer. Her quick search of the infirmary yielded nothing of use, not that she expected to find anything. He was still conscious, and that was something.

On the third floor, her gut twisted with intuition and she took several deep breaths to prepare herself for the coming confrontation.

She wondered – was this how SeeDs felt before a battle? How Squall and the others felt before facing Ultimecia? If so, how did they keep going? How did they keep fighting after?

You develop a taste for it. Get addicted to the rush...

Ellone liked the training, but that was different. She could very well die today.

Remember what I taught you, El. You'll be fine.

She cleared the reception area, then pushed open the door to the Headmaster's Office and was greeted by a strange, earthy, animal smell – sweet and putrid and damp. The skylight above lit the room in a dim, gray patina, but it was lighter here than elsewhere in the building. She could make out the shape of a man hanging from chains in the middle of the room.

Zell.

He sagged in his restraints, motionless, his chin against his chest. Dark streamers of blood ran down his torso and his bare legs. Ellone couldn't be sure if he was alive or not, but the sight of him wounded and helpless was enough fuel to wash away her fear and doubt.

On the floor at his feet lay the body of a woman half-wrapped in spider silk. Her eyes stared unblinking at something too distant for Ellone to see. Paralyzed or dead, but not Thalia.

When Thalia did not reveal herself immediately, Ellone paused in the doorway. She couldn't afford to walk into a trap or be caught with her back to her opponent. That way was certain death.

"Show yourself," Ellone called. "No more games. Let's just end this."

The only answer she received in return was the whisper of a thousand tiny legs as a legion of insects scuttled up the walls and swarmed over the floor around her feet.

She willed it away, remembered the room as it was supposed to look and the insects faded. The silken bindings around the woman's body evaporated, but the dull, vacant look in her glassy eyes remained.

Dead.

Ellone didn't let herself dwell on it. Not on who she might be or why she was killed. She turned her eyes away from the body and stepped into the room, swept her flashlight into the corners, but saw nothing amiss except Zell dangling in his chains.

He lifted his head as Ellone stepped further into the room. He blinked at her, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. His jaw trembled as he lifted his gaze to the glass ceiling, where a massive spider wove an intricate web against the night sky. A spider that was there and gone as Ellone saw through the illusion, but Zell continued to watch with dread.

"It's not there, Zell."

He turned his face back to her and his eyes filled with tears.

"Save yourself, Elle."

"I can't."

No matter what bargain they made, no matter what Thalia said, she would not let Ellone live, no more than Ellone would help her fulfill whatever awful goal she had in mind. One of them would not leave here alive.

Some part of Ellone hoped Thalia could be spared, even saved from her own delusions. Some part of her hoped that lost little girl still lived, but it was all too clear, there would be no happy ending, no redemption to be found here.

"She's gonna kill me," Zell said. He swallowed hard and followed the spider's movements. "When she does, she'll be distracted. Use it, okay?"

Zell's death was not part of the plan. Not that there was any more of a plan now than there was before, but Zell was just an innocent bystander. Thalia's only interest in him was as a means to hurt her. If Ellone could help it, Zell would not become collateral damage, and she would not sacrifice him to save herself.

"He's stupid, but brave. I'll give him that," Thalia said from the shadows behind Zell. She dragged a hand down his battered ribcage and Zell arced away from her touch, panting through his teeth. "How sweet it must be to have all the men in your life ready to die for you."

"I can protect myself."

"Can you?"

There was no point in trying to reason with her. They were too far beyond reason or compromise, and there was nothing left to say, nothing Ellone could do to save her. All she could do now was give Thalia the mercy of a quick death.

Anger is a just another tool. Use it like fuel, but never let it control you.

Wise words in training, but much harder in practice. It would be so easy to allow herself to be overwhelmed by rage, to lose focus in the face of her own anger.

Ellone tightened her grip on her weapons, her heartbeat quickened and she surged forward to fight, to protect Zell, her family, Seifer, herself. She ignored the dark spots that bled across the wood floor like spilled ink, ignored the eight legged shadows on the walls. There was only the two of them, only now, here.

This.

Somewhere between consciousness and dreams, Seifer sat up and fumbled for the phone in his pocket. Maybe it was too late to save himself, but the least he could do was call for some back-up for Ellone. She would need all the help she could get, and he was in no position to fight with her.

Not that he doubted her. She was better than she believed, in more ways than one.

It was for that reason alone Seifer wasn't ready to close his eyes and accept this fate. Ellone was everything good in his world. His death might be a foregone conclusion, but he'd be damned if he gave up without a fight.

With numb fingers, he withdrew the phone and punched at the screen to call up the messaging system.

He couldn't feel his hands. Or his toes, for that matter. Or most of his face.

As he struggled with the phone, nausea boiled up from the depths of his stomach and a wave of dizziness blurred his vision. It sent him back to the ground and he closed his eyes to focus on breathing.

Every breath was a fight to draw. His chest hurt and pulsing lights beat behind his closed lids, in time with the too-slow throb of his heart. It would be easier to let it happen, to stop fighting the poison in his veins, but Seifer was never one to do things the easy way.

He forced himself into a sitting position and ignored the bile in his throat. He ignored the way the world spun and tilted as he struggled to his feet. He pretended his legs didn't shake beneath his weight.

Seifer Almasy was not going to go out this way.

From somewhere inside the building came the sound of machine gun fire, shouts.

Ellone versus Thalia's army. Or someone else. Seifer was too preoccupied to tell. All his focus was on staying alert, and breathing. He needed to keep breathing.

He made it as far as his discarded weapon before his chest constricted and his heart sputtered. The world went black, then brilliant white, and he tasted dirt on his lips, smelled mildew and moisture and grass. Excruciating pain shot up and down his left side, up the tendons of his neck and down his left arm, into his hip and femur.

There was no air; he couldn't lift himself up off the ground.

"You brought your grenades, right?"

"Just smoke bombs."

"But that's no fun. You said I could blow something up!"

"Okay, yeah, I brought one grenade, but it's old. Who knows if it's good anymore?"

"It's not like they go bad like milk or something."

"Keep your voice down, Seffie. She could be anywhere."

"Pretty sure she heard you shooting, so what's the point of being quiet?"

Seifer cracked open an eye and turned his face to the side. The bushes next to him thrashed and two pair of boots appeared beneath the branches.

Thank Hyne for small favors. If he was lucky, one of them brought an antidote with them. If he wasn't, they would get to watch him die.

"Where the heck are they?" Selphie wondered.

"...here," Seifer choked out, but there was no way either could hear the dry rasp, barely a whisper and likely inaudible over the crunch of underbrush beneath their boots. He tried again. "Here. I'm... here."

"You hear something?"

"I dunno," Selphie said. "This place is super creepy all dark and quiet, though. You'd think if he was here, he'd make some noise or something."

"Elle said he was injured."

"Maybe he's dead."

The way she said it was so indifferent. Like commenting on the weather or the color of the sky. Selphie never cared much for him after Trabia, and Seifer didn't fault her for it. He faulted her for everything else she was, but not that. She wasn't alone in the sentiment.

"Don't say that," Laguna said.

Seifer opened his mouth, sucked in as much breath as he could and shouted. They heard him that time, and he watched their boots draw closer, faster and then hands laid against his back and turned him over. Above him, Laguna's pale face hovered like a misshapen moon.

"You're all right, son," Laguna promised. "We'll get you fixed up. Seffie, the antidote?"

Seifer's heart fluttered in his chest, gave a tight and excruciating throb, and the moon winked out of existence.

As Ellone lunged at Thalia, something inside her chest tore loose. Ripples of pain flared through her entire body, across her ribs like a blaze of wildfire. She pressed the heel of her hand to her heart and clenched her teeth against it, her breath gone and an unexpected emptiness inside her head.

Seifer?

He wasn't there.

The pain faded, but the emptiness stayed. It could only mean the connection was broken, forcibly so.

It stole her will to fight and she almost dropped her blades in surrender, but one look at Zell's battered body was enough to keep her going. She would think about Seifer later, about what it meant that he was no longer there. The broken connection didn't mean he was gone yet.

She slashed at the retreating figure and the tip of her blade caught the back of Thalia's dress. Shadows curled around the edges of the room like human shadows with elongated arms and heads and extra legs. They crowded around her, obscuring her vision. As Ellone pushed through them, she would swear they were not merely shadows but made of some ectoplasmic substance that resisted her momentum. It clung to her arms and her face but pushed forward, through it and only once she was past them, did she remember it wasn't real.

Focus, Elle. Keep your mind on the target. Don't give in to panic.

The connection was broken, but Seifer's counsel during training remained. If she could rely on that, she would have the conviction to see this to the end.

Zell dangled before her, his cheeks wet with tears. Thalia pressed a thin blade to his sternum and Ellone froze.

"One more step and I'll kill him."

"It's all right, Elle," Zell said. His bottom lip shook. "Kill her and it'll be worth it."

"As you wish," Thalia said.

Ellone surged forward as Thalia pushed the blade into Zell's skin with a quick, hard stab. The blade came away wet and Zell gave a thin cry as he thrashed in his chains. Too much blood, too much, but her rage boiled over, no longer a tool but an all-consuming need for vengeance and she tackled Thalia to the floor. Thalia's head hit the desk with a sickening crack as something blunt struck Ellone's side. There was no pain, only pressure as the protective gear absorbed most of the blow.

Thalia threw her off with more strength than Ellone expected, and Ellone landed on her left side. A flare of pain lit up her ribs and she noticed something warm and sticky beneath her shirt. The room around her shifted, bright light all she could see...

….the needles hurt. Somewhere to her left, an erratic beep measures the beat of her heart.

The clamp around her ankle hurts more than the needles. It tightens and cuts into her tender skin to measure something Odine calls a "pain threshold." The word "threshold" calls up images of doorways that all lead outside to freedom, but they never give her the chance to run, not after she tried to escape the first time.

But Hyne, it hurts.

She won't cry. Not for this. Not in front of them.

She thinks of Raine, Laguna as the pressure increases to the point where she can't hold in her screams any longer. The snap of bone, the tang of blood inside her mouth where she's bitten through the inside of her cheek...

Ellone pushed back against the vision. She pictured Cid's office, the wood floor, the faded steel of dusk above and it shifted back. Sure her ankle was broken, she cast one of her blades aside, reached down and found it secure in her boot, uninjured and free of pain.

Thalia played the same game as Ellone, in her own way. It was only a distraction.

Thalia scrambled across the floor toward Zell, who now hung limp with his chin against his chest. His lower half was drenched in red. Ellone grabbed hold of Thalia's calf, gave it a hard yank, and the pain in her side blazed so hot, she was blinded by it. Thalia kicked her in the face and Ellone's lip split, but she didn't let go until the other woman was pinned beneath her.

Was it cowardice to stab her in the back? Would it really matter?

Squall would tell her yes. Seifer would say it didn't, so long as she was dead.

Ellone raised her blade, the taste of blood in her mouth.

A concussive blast split the air around her, and the floor rumbled beneath her. Her ears popped and shards of glass rained down around them with a musical but dissonant clatter as they crashed against the floor. The room filled with smoke and the screams of men. A pair of voices rose together in a wail of agony, but they were not screams she recognized.

"Booyaka! Told you it would work!"

"...I'm not sure that was necessary, Sef."

"It was so! Did you SEE how quick they went down? Ka-blooey! I think that dude's arm ended up in the fake ficus tree. Gives new meaning to the word limbs doesn't it..."

"You are a very morbid woman, you know that?"

"Will the two of you shut the hell up? Just 'cause you took down a few doesn't mean there aren't more."

Reinforcements.

Seifer.

Though no longer connected, his voice calmed her, whether illusion or not.

They could help Zell, if it wasn't too late.

Beneath her, Thalia pushed herself up and nearly bucked Ellone off her back, but Ellone grasped hold of Thalia's hair and held firm, even as the woman twisted around to face her. She struck out at Ellone, still wielding the thin blade in one hand, and she clawed at Ellone's vest with the other. The blade ripped across Ellone's cheek and the sting of it brought moisture to her eyes.

"We're the same, you and me," Thalia hissed. "We're the same."

"No. We're not."

Ellone didn't hesitate this time. She drove the blade into Thalia's chest, once, twice, three times, unaware that the screams she heard were her own. The steel cut through flesh and bone and Ellone felt it in the tang of the blade, in the palms of her hands, deep down in her soul. She could feel the life drain out of Thalia's body, the tragedy of her existence drawing to a close.

She dragged the Talon across Thalia's throat for good measure. The blade cut deep, severing vein and artery, cartilage and tendon. Dark, thick blood bubbled from the wound in rivers that in the dim light looked more like molten tar than blood.

Glassy eyes the exact shade of the sky above peered up at her, blinked once, and slid shut. The flow of blood from her wounds slowed.

Mercy. Or as close to it as Ellone could get.

She began to sob with relief that it was over, but also out of sorrow that this was the only option. Ellone wept for the little girl who deserved a better life than the one she got. For her brother and all he suffered and would continue to suffer for years to come. For Zell and the rift Thalia caused among friends. For Rinoa, Laguna, for Seifer and herself. For the two years of their lives lost to this fight. It was a relief to end it, but it hurt so damn much.

There were voices in the room with her, the voices of those she knew and trusted, but she couldn't make out what they said. Arms encircled her from behind, too thick and strong to belong to Laguna or Selphie, and Ellone wept harder as he drew her back against his chest.

"You did good, Elle," he promised. "You got her. It's over. You did good."

Ellone could not agree or disagree. There was nothing good about killing, even if there was no other choice.

But deep down, there was a part of her that wasn't sorry at all.