Thanks for all the supportive reviews! Please review this chapter and give me ur thoughts.
I was just reading some other fanfics and suddenly I realised how out of character Seifer is in this. If any of you think this is getting too fluffy or too romance-saturated, tell me so I can "try" to salvage it.
**
The helicopter's clatter made it hard for Squall to think. He had failed. He had been caught, without even getting close to reaching the small town where Quistis had called him from. Now, she would probably die – shot dead by an overeager cop, or a secret agent thug like the one in the hotel, or the killer who was really responsible for the body in her room. For all he knew, she could be dead already. And all he would have to show for his efforts would be a prison term for obstructing justice.
He stared out of the open doorway of the helicopter, half blinded by tears of frustration. The secret agent headquarters receded down beneath him. Around it, tiny cars dotted the roads, carefree, their round little late-morning shadows visible beneath them. They swarmed all over the roads as if it was an ordinary day – as if hope was still alive. As the helicopter rose, they merged into the landscape and vanished.
Nick unlocked the handcuffs. For a moment, Squall thought he was going to push him out of the helicopter. Then, Nick turned to him with a grim smile.
"Okay, partner" said Nick. "Now that we've ditched the agents and the rest of them, tell the pilot where we're going so we can get to your friend. Let's find that innocent girl of yours before she gets herself hurt".
**
"Okay, Quisty. You can manage by yourself while I go make a call to Operator? I want to trace the origin of the postmark on the back of that packet of diamonds."
"Seifer, I can manage by myself for two minutes…I have your gun, don't I?" Quistis rolled her eyes and played with the corner of the narrow motel bed's duvet. "I'll just have a shower while you're gone." Quistis got up and involuntarily winced as a slight pain shot through the wound below her collarbone. A hand flew to it involuntarily, and she stifled a whimper. Sure, she'd recovered physically, but as the scar would always be there as a reminder of her ordeal, the mental torture would exist as well.
"Go on, Seifer. I don't need a bodyguard."
"No kiddin'? I recognise a fighter when I see one, tiger." He wound a strand of her hair around his finger, gently rubbing her back. She closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing, reassuring sensation of his hand. He kissed her on the nose and walked over to the door, his muscular shoulders particularly noticeable in the loose-hanging white shirt he was wearing. He leant back into the room, half-way out of the door. "Take care of yourself while I'm gone, ok? Call reception if you get yourself killed or anything."
She forced herself to smile as she donned a bathrobe and headed into the bathroom. She heard the click of the door which meant Seifer had left. Dropping the towelling robe to the floor, she stepped into the tub and turned on the shower, letting the hot water sluice over her body. It bubbled in rivulets over her nose and mouth, streaming playfully into the contours of her face. She lathered up with generous amounts of the cheap motel soap, enjoying the relaxing sensation, feeling the worries ebb away with the draining away of the water. Her hair glistened with water and fell loosely in damp strands over her neck and forehead, fanning out over her shoulders. She traced her scars and bruises with her fingers, smiling slightly as she recalled the look on Seifer's face when she had woken up. And as for her…she couldn't remember what life had been like before she began to love him. Sure, she'd known him when he was a boy – a puerile, taunting and somehow reclusive boy. She had been the concerned instructor, teased and humiliated by her mocking student. However, she had always been far too busy with Squall to ever pay much attention to Seifer. Why had she never tried to find out what was underneath his cold exterior, and what emotion those green marbles of eyes could hold? Now, they seemed much less like marbles and much more like real eyes. She had grown to love him with a passion and intensity that astonished even her at times. Their lives had become so entwined in this roller coaster that all her experiences before this week seemed meaningless. They somehow paled against the real fortitude of their love.
Quistis washed the dust and dirt out of her hair, and closed her eyes as it disappeared down the plughole with the last of her tensions.
**
Jeff crouched outside room number 313 in the small, dingy motel. The suit he'd worn was suitably long-sleeved, to avoid drawing unwanted attention to his injuries. That kid, and his little sidekick now had the diamonds, and he intended to get them back. Both the guys he'd hired for the job of getting the information out of them had failed. Now the only way to get it out of them was to do the job himself. First things first: How was he going to get into their room?
As if timed exactly to his request, an employee rounded the corner, his footsteps muffled in the slightly bobbled carpet. Jeff flagged him down, wincing as the gunshot wound underneath his armpit rubbed painfully against the arm of his suit. He made a mental memo to add this to his list of reasons for wanting to kill the pair of them. He pushed his ash hair out of his eyes as the employee scuttled over. He seemed Brazilian, and spoke with a halting, deliberately slow accent.
"Could you let me into this room, please?" Jeff asked carelessly, figuring it was his best shot.
"That is the Trepe and Almasy room, sir. Do you have a message?"
"Well…" Jeff tried his best to look debonair and dashing. "It's really a surprise. You know…it's her birthday."
"For the lady?" The employee gave him a knowing wink as he opened the catch to the door. As it swung open, Jeff silently cheered inside. How stupid they were, the lot of them. He stepped inside, returning the knowing wink. Closing the door softly behind him, he advanced, panther like, into the room. He heard a shower running. Maybe this would be more entertaining than he thought. He swung open the door to the bathroom softly, and tiptoed into the steamy air. Behind a screen, he saw the girl. He took her in, admiring. She really was beautiful. Part of him felt remorse for having to kill her; the other part of him felt glee and sneaking up on her like this.
"Good morning."
The shower stopped abruptly. The girl whipped around, and opened the shower doors a crack. In that one instant, he saw the glint of a gun.
"Do you always take a shower with a gun?" He laughed inwardly. The girl wouldn't have the courage to shoot a mouse. He could see it in her eyes.
"Turn around." She gestured with the gun, pulling on her bathrobe with the other hand. He turned around obediently, catching a glimpse of her in the bathroom mirror. Her honeyed hair was damp and silky, her skin matt with water. Her voice trembled almost imperceptibly, but he picked it up. She was absolutely terrified. He could still see her in the bathroom mirror; she hadn't been showering for long enough for it to have steamed up.
"Walk. Into the bedroom."
Jeff put his hands up in the air, mocking her with every movement. As if she'd ever have the strength to fight back against him. She looked as if she'd fall over if he blew on her. As he was ushered into the room, he took in the details of the suite with innocent observation. "Nice rug" he commented, as he walked over a patchwork rug made of fabrics of all different textures and colours. "Like the curves." He grinned as she shot him a look filled with daggers. "My sister made that rug," she spat out acidly. "As if you're interested. Sit on the bed. Sit on your hands, so I can see where they are, while I call the police."
Never taking an eye off him, she crossed the room to the telephone. Pointing the gun at him with one hand, she started to dial the number. She took her eyes away from him for a moment, while she punched in the last digit, and…the world tilted crazily sideways as he took he opportunity to pounce. He twisted her arm behind her back, and the small, innocent looking gun fell from her clasp and clattered to the floor. They both fell on to the bed, him pinning her down, her struggling wildly. Finally she fell still, her arm twisted behind her back and his hand grasping her wrist tightly.
"Where are they?"
"What?"
"The diamonds!"
"I…don't know…"
He tugged her arm tighter behind her back.
"I can't tell you!"
Tighter.
"I DON'T KNOW!!!" She bit her lip to hide the screams of anguish which were threatening to escape. He flung her back on the bed and slapped her, once, twice. Her pupils dilated. He grabbed her by the neck of her bathrobe and pulled her closer to him.
"Where are they?"
**
Review please! Next part coming soon, depending on whether u review or not ;). I just want 2 know your opinions. And if you think I'm bashing Quistis way too much, it all has a purpose, it all has a purpose…