A/N: The first of the missing chapters...I'm not quite sure how many there are going to be, enough for me to fill in the holes. I wasn't originally going to fill in any of the holes that I left, but I few reviews expressing uncertainty as to what exactly happens inspired me to complete this little project. Took me a while to get back into the feel of this fic again, so I hope this fits. Enjoy. :-P

"Beneath the tangles, bleeding silhouette inside, dancing like an angel would." - Lifehouse

Chapter 17: Agony

Quistis' blood was everywhere. It darkened the black shirt she was wearing, giving it a low crimson glow, and was smeared all across the front of Seifer's coat. She whimpered and looked up at him, her eyes glazed over with agony.

Seifer was frantic. Quistis was going to die, going to bleed to death in his arms, and he didn't have a clue what to do.

"Fuck," he groaned, a whole different but no less searing pain ripping through his chest. He held her toward him, lifting her suddenly fragile seeming body. Quistis Trepe was invulnerable, a cat with nine lives. She was strong and determined, not the wan and frightened woman he was plucking off of the blood soaked grass.

She was pale, the pinkish hue to her skin replaced with a frightening blue. Seifer's head was spinning and his heart was racing, pounding at his ribs and threatening to leap strait out through his throat.

"Quistis?" he shifted her so that her wound was against him in an attempt to stifle the flow of blood. It was oozing out of the wound, almost black it was so dark. He could feel it against his skin as it soaked through his vest, warm and gooey, and he could smell it in the air. She groaned at the new pressure, and grabbed tightly onto his arm with her more able hand.

"Quistis, honey, you've gotta stay with me," he begged, his voice cracking as he fought back a sudden sob.

She can't die...not now. Oh, Hyne...please not now.

His legs were surprisingly steady as he started back toward what once was Balamb, his pace hurried and frantic. Ragnarok was visible in the opposite direction, a red blur, but Balamb had the emergency medical crew. They could stabilize Quistis, they could save her.

Tears were slipping down his cheeks, agonized sobs tearing themselves from the depths of his chest.

This can't be happening...it can't be. Please, Quistis...don't leave me.

Her eyes were half closed as she looked up at him, her golden hair streaming down toward the ground, smeared with darkness on one side. It was like watching an eclipse, seeing light and life suffocated and blocked by black. She blinked slowly, almost calmly. Seifer was terrified at how suddenly relaxed she seemed. Was she going into shock? Was she looking up at him and not seeing him at all, but the end of her life?

"Quistis," he had to keep talking, for himself and for her. "We're almost there. Almost to help."

The first of the tents were showing in the distance, the beige canvas slapping in the ocean breeze. They looked almost peaceful, completely unaware of the couple staggering toward them. Involved in their own affairs, in cleaning up and bringing life into the city once again. The battle for them was no longer between life and death, but between idleness and action. The war had moved on for them, it was no longer at their front step but being wages miles away across sea and desert in a foreign land. They didn't care about the soldiers, didn't have to care about the enemy, but were wrapped up in their own losses, wallowing in their own pain.

Seifer had been there. He'd never given a damn about anyone else his entire life. Matron perhaps, an in a twisted sense Ultemecia, but he'd always lived under the pretense that he didn't need anyone else. He was fully self-sufficient, and he didn't want help. Yet, at the same time, he wanted to serve. His dream, once upon a time, to be a knight. Pledge his blade to a cause, a woman, and never waiver.

He turned his head to wipe his nose on his shoulder. This was a whole new, agonizing experience. He was loosing the only thing in the world he wanted.

Back in Galbadia, she'd forgiven him. Knowing all the terrible things he'd done, not only to others but to her as well, she'd forgiven him. He'd never thought that something would hit him quite as hard as that had. He was surprised to find how wrong he was.

"Okay, just a little further," he told her. "Just about there."

A woman looked up as he stumbled into camp, and he watched the blood drain from her face.

"Oh my," she gasped, her jaw hanging open.

"Go get someone," Seifer ordered her, feeling stronger both emotionally and physically now that he was no longer alone. "Hurry."

She scrambled to her feet and started toward the medical tent at a breakneck speed, her plain brown shoes kicking up grass in her wake. Quistis was still bleeding, and her eyes were starting to roll back in her head. She'd lost a lot of blood, more than he'd thought someone of her size and stature could possibly have. He was terrified.

The two resident doctors rushed out of the tent moments after the woman had disappeared inside, not hardly as terrified as the woman had been but rather looking mildly thrilled. Their adrenaline was pumping, and their faces were flushed.

"What happened?" the older one asked as he met Seifer halfway.

"A Galbadian soldier ambushed her," he replied.

"What's her name?" the younger one, who had the shadow of a beard running across his jaw and was carrying a clip board, asked.

"Quistis Trepe." They continued to walk back toward the tent at a quick pace, bombarding Seifer with questions as to what exactly happened and scolding him for pulling out the sword. His heart dropped when they reminded him that it was better to leave it in, that she would have bleed less had he left it alone. Groaning inwardly, he clenched his teeth against the anguish that brought him. Quistis could die, and it would be his fault.

"Set her down there," the old doctor commanded when they entered the tent, then immediately started barking orders at the younger doctor. As he peeled Quistis away from himself, her eyes flashed open and she cried out in pain.

"Shh, Sweetie," he soothed her. "It's okay." She sobbed shortly and closed her eyes again, dark fluid still oozing from the angry gash in her flesh.

For a moment, Seifer thought he was going to vomit, and he reeled backwards for a moment as he fought back the nausea. The two emergency doctors rushed in as he stepped aside, cutting away Quistis' shirt with a pair of scissors and giving her a quick injection.

"Please wait outside, Sir," one of them bade him as he tried to step up to hold her hand.

"Like fucking hell I'll wait outside!" Anger bubbled up in him, boiling over.

"You'll only be in the way," the man shook his head calmly. "We'll let you know how she's doing."

Taking a deep breath, Seifer turned on his heel and walked back out through the canvas flap. He wanted to sob and scream, but most of all he wanted to go back and change everything. If he'd gone with her instead of hanging behind, she would have never been attacked. If he'd decided to take his own luggage, she would have been able to hold her own against the man. If he hadn't pulled out the sword, he wouldn't be covered in her blood.

Sinking down onto the grass, he covered his face with his hands. Minutes ticked by, and he didn't move. Every once and a while he'd head Quistis cry out, which was both a relief and a ripping pain. She was alive, but she was immersed in complete misery. In those moments, he would have given anything to take her place.

The sun had changed direction in the sky overhead before he had the strength to pick himself up off the grass again. He needed to change and wash up. With the aid of his bloody hands, he'd smeared it in his hair and his clothing was getting stiff. Putting something new on would hopefully remove some of the guilt, would take away the constant reminder that it was all his fault.

As he walked drunkenly toward his tent, he spotted a flash of blue and black. Rinoa and Squall were walking together, one with a look of concern and the other one of irritation. Both expressions immediately went to one of horror when they spotted Seifer.

"What happened?" Rinoa gasped, looking up and down him. "Are you alright? Where's Quistis?" Her brown eyes were wide and her hand was gripping Squall's tightly.

"Quistis was attacked on the way to Ragnarok," Seifer replied, not sure how much he could say without breaking down again.

"Oh no," the color completely drained out of Rinoa's face. "She's not..."

"Is she okay?" Even Squall, master of stoicism, suddenly looked like he was going to loose his lunch.

"They're working on her now," Seifer shook his head. Rinoa's eyes were shiny with tears, and her gaze immediately slipped from Seifer to the medical tent. Seifer couldn't watch her cry, he'd done enough of that already. He wasn't the sort of man who cried, ever. He was malicious, rude, arrogant. He wasn't sentimental. He didn't want Squall to see him bawl, and he wanted to take off his bloody clothes. So, without another word, he walked away.

They didn't call after him, and thankfully didn't try to stop him.

Look what I've become...sobbing, sniveling, aching.

It was too much to bury, and the pain and unease was once again churning to the surface by the time he made it back into his tent. In time to the sound of his choked sobs, he tore off his clothes. His vest landed on the ground with a hard, stiff thump. Underneath his clothes, his own skin was glazed with the red stuff. In nothing but his boxers, he let his knees give way. Landing with a slap, he attempted to steady the world around him.

This was a misery unlike any he had ever felt. Repeatedly, he felt sick, and he spent a good deal of time calming himself down so that he wouldn't throw up.

When he came down the other side of the wave, he gathered up a change of clothes. He needed to wash. Squall and Rinoa would be completing his vigil outside of the tent, and they'd come and get him if anything happened. As soon as he was clean, he'd go back. He'd sit there all night and into the next day if he had to.

He went down to the beach, wanting to wash off in the sea. With the natural ebb and flow of the ocean, he'd watch her blood come away from him. He'd lay in the wet sand, and he'd let it lap at him, drag at him, comfort him.

He spent a good half an hour laying there, staring up at the blue sky. He could see her there, up in the clouds and on the rays of the sun. She was inconspicuously beautiful like that. The sort of aching beauty that a person never noticed until he really stopped to look at it, or realized that he might loose it. Seifer closed his eyes, imaging her only a few short hours ago. Things had been looking up between them.

The sun was shining brightly, reflecting in her honey hair, and he'd kissed her.

He licked his lips.

He remembered her when she was little. A bossy little girl with long blonde hair. She cried all the time to get her way, and she always told on him. She pulled him and Squall off of one another when they fought. He'd disliked her, but there were times when he'd loved her. When they'd set off the fireworks, and he'd watched them reflect in her wide eyes as they burst in the air. She was fascinated by little things, she appreciated the wonder of what was around her, and she wanted only to be loved. Then, she'd been adopted. He wasn't sure what had happened between then and the time she appeared at Garden. But, things within her had changed. She was adult beyond her years, and she no longer looked at the world with awe, but trepidation.

He'd noticed, although at the time he hadn't really cared. He'd never really cared, he'd always been so wrapped up in himself. There was that thirst for control, to keep others at bay and never let them in too close, because they'd hurt him.

He groaned, his eyes shut tightly.

Hurt, indeed.

It wasn't her fault. He only cared because he chose to, not because she made him. It still wasn't like he was madly in love with her, wanting to marry and spend the rest of his life with her. But, he couldn't stand the thought of her gone, forever.

Scrubbing down once, he pulled on his change of clothes, hardly reticent of the fact that he was still wet underneath. Squall and Rinoa were waiting in front of the tent, sitting side by side on the grass as he walked up. They both looked worried, a little ragged, and Seifer's stomach sank down to his ankles.

"Is she okay?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"The doctors say she's lost a lot of blood," Squall answered.

"She can have mine!" Seifer barked, his muscles tensing. Squall shook his head.

"They're already giving her a transfusion," Rinoa said softly. "The vein running through her shoulder was nicked, and they had a hard time getting her to stop bleeding."

"Oh, Hyne," Seifer sat down a distance from them. He was tired, all the worrying about her was wearing him out. He felt heavy, ready to give in and up.

"She'll be okay," Squall announced, a veil of confidence in his voice. "Quistis is tough."

Seifer didn't reply, he didn't need Squall trying to make him feel better. He didn't want Squall so much as knowing that he felt awful about the whole ordeal. He didn't want them to know that he was human, that he cried and cared. Inwardly, he felt himself crawling into the old shell of his youth.

"Poor, Quistis," Rinoa lamented, holding onto Squall's arm and laying her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were puffy from crying. Quistis was, after all, one of her best friends. On top of that, Rinoa wasn't known for being detached and unemotional. Seifer wouldn't be surprised if she howled and bawled for days. At the same time, he wasn't sure of his own fate should Quistis die and be removed from his life.

"I'm sure she'll pull through," Squall murmured. "Quistis became a SeeD when she was fifteen, she's not known for giving up."

"I hope you're right." Rinoa buried her face in the fur at the collar of Squall's coat.

Seifer closed his eyes. He couldn't look at them.

He couldn't listen to them talk about Quistis as if she were already dead. He couldn't watch them sit in each other's arms, he couldn't be witness to their love and happiness. They were there for one another, they had what Seifer was loosing. Something he'd never even imagined would be within his grasp.

He pulled at a loose thread on his pants, wondering if what had happened would change everything. Even if she lived, would she still want him?

As far as he was concerned, he was the source of all of her agony. It was all his fault: her loosing her instructors license, her failed mission, her injury. Every bad thing that had ever happened to Quistis happened because of him. He was poison.

Perhaps, in the long run, she would be better without him. That thought alone doubled his misery, and his heart throbbed with sadness and loss.

The older doctor walked out, his glasses riding low on his nose. All three of them snapped to attention and looked up hopefully at him.

Please...say she's okay. Hyne, if you just say that she's okay I swear that I'll never ask anything else.

"She's sleeping," he announced, running a hand through his dark hair. "I think for the moment she's going to be alright."

Seifer almost passed out as relief flooded through him. The angel she was, it was a miracle in his eyes she was still residing under the clouds.