**Thank you guys so much for reading this…if you like this, please review. I'd like some feedback, as the idea just suddenly came to me, and I'd like to know whether I've expressed myself well**
**
The sandy-haired man rifled through the papers on his desk. Small time murders, petty theft. Hit and run, drunk driving. His eyes roamed around his desk and fell on the ebony framed photograph lying face up on the corner of the aluminium desk. He put down his chrome-plated pen, and picked it up, his fingers tracing the lines of the beautiful face depicted in the photograph. High cheekbones, wide blue eyes rimmed with indigo, framed by long blue lashes. The sleek, long black hair of her mother's Indian origin. The slight flush of her cheeks as she looked at the camera, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her soft, honey tinged mouth. A prickle started behind the young agent's eyes. Petty thefts were nothing, nothing, compared to the murder of his fiancée, Melody. A body, riddled by bullets, flashed into his mind. He slammed the photograph, face down, onto the desk.
"Nick! New case! Balamb Garden, scandalous, of course. All hushed up, Cid's orders. A murder, and a possible suspect, missing."
His young, fresh-faced colleague, Susan, rushed in, her shoulder-length ash-brown hair untidily swept back in a windblown ponytail. "Here; a tape and a short debriefing. The bullet that killed the man is being examined by forensics now. Take a look. This is going to be the case of the year."
Nick took the typed sheet of paper and scanned it quickly. Young man, dark-haired and eyed, found murdered in former instructor's dormitory. Evidence of a break-in – either a break-in, or a way to make a quick escape. Talking of escapes…the instructor herself? Missing. Nick fumbled for the glossy photo clipped onto the back of the sheet of paper. Pretty little thing. Looked oddly familiar. He stared closer at the open, innocent face that now had the glaring, red words, "WANTED FOR MURDER" stamped onto the front. Poor kid didn't look any older than nineteen or twenty. You never knew, nowadays, did you? The face? A façade. A murderous personality concealed beneath, perhaps?
His train of thought was interrupted by Susan, rushing once again into his office. He looked up and was immediately struck by her grim face.
"Nick, the bullet. The bullet in the body. It came from the same gun…the same gun that killed Melody."
**
"And he was dead?"
Seifer drained his cup of coffee and looked at Quistis enquiringly. The bustle of a coastal café was oddly reassuring. They were both far from Balamb. They were both far from their worries.
"How can you be so – so practical? A man is dead. I've done the stupid thing, and run away. I know I've probably just implicated myself in this whole, terrible murder. But – what if I was next? I was just so scared…and now I can't go back…"
"Running from your worries doesn't solve them, Quistis."
"Oh yeah?" Suddenly Quistis' deep blue eyes were full of anger. "So how come you were so desperate to get away from Balamb then? Why haven't you told me anything about why you were on a train headed for the furthest destination possible then? Why – why are you so interested in what happened to me, when you can't even tell me what you've been doing? Why are you here, and who are you running from, Seifer?"
"Maybe I'm running from myself…" replied Seifer enigmatically.
"Seifer…tell me. What are you involved in? Are you…"
"I can't tell you that." It was as if a door had closed. Seifer's face, that had been for an instant open, approachable, snapped shut, his expression masked, unreadable. Suddenly, Quistis' attention was diverted by one of the news broadcasting television screens that hung from the four corners of the café.
"…found today. CIK agents are looking for a young woman of average height and slim build, Caucasian, with blue eyes and blonde hair. Name…" Quistis let out an involuntary cry and brought her hand to her mouth as a picture of her face flashed on the screen, "Quistis Trepe. Wanted…DEAD OR ALIVE…".
The words were like a deathknell. Dead…Quistis felt something choke in her throat, as she glanced around the room fearfully. Nobody had seen her – yet. Soon, the world would be after her, against her. She would be hunted. Killed. Put in prison, for a crime she didn't commit. What was the point anymore? The world whirled around her, and she hardly felt herself get up from her chair and run from the café to the angry sea outside.
"Quistis?" Seifer stood up as Quistis fled from the store, hiding her face in her coat. This was more serious than he had initially thought. He knew how ruthless the police were. They would hunt Quistis, torture her, kill her…if she was found, she wouldn't be able to explain. There were no witnesses, nobody to stand up for her, nobody to defend her – she was so hopelessly, horribly alone.
Seifer snapped to attention as he heard a faint splash outside.
Jesus.
He ran outside and saw her as she went under. Without thinking, he kicked off his shoes and jumped off the low cliff, swimming towards her with powerful strikes. The water was cold, and deep, and the current was strong. In a matter of seconds he had caught up to her floundering form, and he wrapped his arms around her in an effort to pull her back to shore. She was struggling to get away, to get free, to drown…
"No…no…let me go…"
She was forcing herself under, pushing herself away from him, crying, gasping. He was amazed at how calm he was; it was almost as if he was detached from the horror scene happening in front of him. He held her wrists securely above her head with one hand, and tightly enfolded his other arm around her waist, powerfully dragging her back to shore. He could vaguely hear her crying, and could feel her struggling violently, but kept on. After what seemed like hours, he collapsed on the shore. Quistis tumbled from his arms and fell, broken, onto the sand. Her back was shaking, and he could hear her sobbing. He didn't know why, but the sound made him feel like running away, running away from it all. Together, organised, Quistis, reduced to this? Hesitantly, he draped an arm around her back. She lifted her head up and clung to him fiercely, yet with a desperation that frightened him.
"Why did you stop me…why did you stop me…"
"I couldn't let you die."
"Why?"
Why, though? What reason, except for…
He shook his head.
"I just couldn't. We'll get through this, Quistis. I promise – I promise, I'll explain everything. I'll stay with you through it…"
"I don't understand what's happening. I don't understand. Everything – everything's so sudden, and so disjointed…you don't mean it when you say you'll stay with me…there could be danger…"
"I promise".
**
So, the little slut knows? Damn it. She can't live. Nor
can the man, the man who got away from me.
I'll make her pay.
I'll make them both pay.
**
So, what do you think? Is it flowing well? Give me some feed back, please? If you have any suggestions, please tell me, I'd appreciate it a lot.