~

Irvine stepped through the doorway, and it swooshed closed behind him. To his surprise, he heard a loud, sharp click. "Hey!" he shouted. "It locked, everyone!"

Selphie cheered, and Aren laughed some. They sat with Quistis on the room's carpeted floor, and made room for Irvine, who tossed his hat to the couch and joined them.

"The club car's all locked up," he announced. "Must be closed for the night."

Selphie frowned, and snapped her fingers. "Aw, great! Now we gotta go hungry tonight!"

"I could be mistaken," remarked Quistis, having a glance around, "but aren't there refrigerators in these cars?"

"Hey, that's right!" cried Selphie, and she bounded to her feet. "We're saved!"

Irvine slapped his knees, and slowly stood. "Spread out!" he mock-ordered. His team began a careful analysis of the perimeter. Aren and Selphie tapped on the wall above the couch, and Quistis inspected the drawers under the bunkbed.

What a crazy ordeal this is turning into, he thought. Confusing, a little scary...and dangerous, in that glamorous-romantic sort of way!

"Ooh!" he heard Selphie shout. "I found...nothing."

And kinda familiar, too...a little reminiscent, if I might venture. Sure is great to see Selphie again. Looks like she's gettin' along with Aren just fine.

Aren yanked hard on what seemed to be a dresser knob. But it turned out only a decoration, and he tore it clean off the wall. Selphie giggled; he shrugged and examined it.

Irvine turned to the newcomer, her back turned, knelt over the drawers under the bed. And just when I figured the reunion was over, here she comes. Same as ever, too. Still stone-cold serious, and deticated, and maybe a little jumpy...yeah, she's still Quistis. And boy, is she still beautiful.

What felt like a round piece of wood flew from across the room, and conked him on the head. "Hey, fearless leader!" called Aren. "Get lookin', Selphie's starving here!"

"I could go for something, myself, if you all don't mind," Quistis replied from the other end.

Irvine pushed his coat away, and bent to a spot at the wall, where the rows of decorative knobs were untouched by Aren. Well, at least now I know her. And I know she sure doesn't go for that charmin' bit! I must've been such a loser, can't believe I put her through all that...ah well, live and learn.

He tugged at one of the knobs, and it swung quickly open. Glowing light flushed from inside. A cold blast of air indicated that Irvine had found the refrigerator.

"Hey, everyone, take a look!" he called. "Looks like I found the fridge!" But as they gathered around, they all sighed as one, and Irvine bit his lip. Empty.

Quistis folded her arms. "Well, I can always check my car, maybe there's something in there."

"Anything's worth a try, right?" said Selphie, rather desparately.

"Yeah, and you'd better hurry," Irvine added. "Selphie's got that look in her eye!"

~

Aren pulled on some more decorative knobs. "You know, it's funny the GDS would send your friend all this way, if they didn't get their facts straight first."

"Yeah, kinda is," Selphie nodded, as she stood amid the room, scratching her head. "I guess they didn't have time to think about it. Oh well, it's all over now, I guess."

Irvine lay on the lower bunk, his arm dangling from the side. He yanked off his hat, and threw it across the room, hitting Aren on the back. "Hey, we found the fridge," he said. "No use still looking."

"Yeah, guess so." Aren stood up and stretched. But without notice, he wobbled forward, and nearly fell. His hands reached for his temples as he steadied his balance, to little avail.

"You okay?" asked Selphie, and she quickly dashed to his side.

Aren stumbled her way, and she reached forth to catch him, but quickly twisted back. "Fine," he winced. "Guess we're...getting into those mountains...right about now."

"Probably," Irvine said, and sat up. "Wanna lay down a sec? Might take the pressure off."

"No, I'm fine!" Aren replied, clenching his head harder. He fumbled forward, and slammed his shoulder into the door. A few taps of the keypad, and the door was unlocked. It swished away and let him through.

Selphie sighed, and dropped her shoulders, as it slammed back shut. She closed her dark eyes, and shook her head, and gave a little shrug.

Irvine placed an arm around her shoulder. "You're doin' fine, kiddo," he smiled.

"You know, I just don't get it!" she cried. "He gets so close sometimes, and it's just terriffic...but whenever I try to get close to him..." She clenched her fists tightly. "It seems like he just...closes himself off."

Irvine led her to the long sofa. "That sounds about right, considering Aren." He gave her a reassuring smile, and wiped her eyes. "There's, like, two sides to the guy. Mostly, he's a good kid, got a heart of gold. A little cocky, but in a good way, you know? Just to be funny. Really caring, clever, all that jazz."

"Yeah," she sniffed, "it's great...what happens?"

"Well," said Irvine, "he's gone through a lot, and it kinda catches up with him. An' it gets him in a pretty bad mood." He chuckled to himself. "Guess he's got good reason, too. All he needs is a loud noise or a change in altitude, and he's all messed up. I'd probably get sick of it after a while, too. But at least he can..."

Selphie noticed him stop short. "What? He can what?"

"Nevermind," said Irvine. "Just runnin' on, that's all."

He paused for a time, and then smiled. "But you know what? No matter what mood he's in, it seems like he's always got some time for you. It might not look like it, but I think you're really helping him out."

Selphie stared out toward the door. "I doubt it. He doesn't give me the time of day."

Irvine guffawed. "Time of day? Kid, when Aren's on one of his mad streaks, you're lucky to leave with your head attached!"

"Yeesh," she cringed, and rubbed her neck.

~

Aren sat beside the closed train door. His head was clear now, but still he sat against the cold metal wall, and watched the thick barrier of trees whiz by at the other end of the glass windows.

I need to get back to Terra, he thought. Need to find Master Kore, and get some things ironed out. I can't live like this. It's not fair to me, or anyone I'm around. And I'm sick of hiding it!

Maybe Trey was better off. It was over in a flash for him. But I'm stuck here, and I've got to wake up in a cold sweat every night, after I watch him burn inside the Milicar. I've got to watch the flash, and hear the blast, and feel the metal stab me every night. Yeah, Trey was better off.

The door whooshed open, and Selphie stepped shyly out. She glanced down, and Aren watched her eyes seek his. They did not meet, of course, and he did not expect them to. She could not see his eyes. But still she tried, and searched for his eyes every time they met. It made him terribly uncomfortable.

"Um...listen..." she whispered, standing in the doorway, and shuffling her feet. "I know you probably don't wanna talk right now..."

He smiled to her. "I think I'm okay now, thanks for your patience."

"Oh, of course!" she said. "...Well, whenever you'd like to talk, there's some things I'd like to say..." She turned to retreat into the room.

"Hey, hold it!" he stopped her. "Really, I'm fine. What's up?"

Selphie stepped hesitantly into the hallway, and shut the door. "Mind if I sit down?"

Aren waved for the space beside her. "Not at all. What's on your mind?"

Isn't it obvious what's on her mind? he thought. She wants to know what's wrong with me. Wants to feel sorry for me, like anyone with a decent sense of pity would. Pity the freak.

She crossed her legs, and sat to the floor at his side. "I don't...really...know how to say this," she hesitated. "But, I know I've said...and done...some things that you haven't liked. I just want you to know that I'm really sorry."

Pity the freak.

"It's all right," he nodded. "You didn't know."

"But, you see...I still don't...and I don't wanna do anything that'd hurt you! What if I do something else?"

Then I'll take offense, and you'll be confused, and I'll forgive you, and we'll wait until next time. Stupid way to go about it.

He ran his hands through his long hair. "I dunno...what you're asking."

Selphie sighed, and closed her eyes a moment, as though preparing herself. Finally, she spoke, and it hit him hard. "I guess it's best to just be straightforward, 'cause I've been thinking about this one for a while, and...I just can't make it sound good. But...I wanna get close to you, Aren."

It was pure chance, he knew so. But even if it was, it startled him. Because her eyes met his.

...How close?

Her eyes left his, and her head tilted to the floor. "If you don't feel the same way, I understand...but...you're confusing me..." She giggled lightly. "And I'm easily confused! So...it's kinda...up...to..."

Confused? Of course she is! That was the whole point, right? Keep her guessing. Moron. Some relationship. She deserves better. Better than the freak. She just doesn't see it yet. Tell her no, get it over with. She'll be better off in the long run. Trey hurt, but he was better off.

"I do," he said hoarsely.

No! No, let her go! It's just gonna be harder for her!

Selphie gasped lightly. "I knew it!" she smiled, and reached to touch his face. But Aren jerked sharply back. His metallic shades glared coldly.

Her hand shrinked quickly back, and she frowned in a mix of anger and embarrassment. "What...what now?" she sighed. "Awh...Aren, I just don't get it!"

"It's not easy..." he choked. "Getting close."

Again the coincidence came, and her eyes deadlocked with his. It chilled him, as she asked him earnestly, "why?"

Thoughts, excuses, and recurring nightmares escaped him. He breathed heavily, unable to break from Selphie's gaze. Her dark almond eyes held him fast, and threatened to grip tighter.

She gently shook her head, and welled up a tear. "Can't you please...tell me why?"

He choked for breaths. "I...I'm not like you...or Irvine. Not normal. Can't see...hear...cry...not like you. I could, but not anymore."

She whispered, "I'm sorry," and folded her hands in her lap. "It...must be hard for you."

And once again, she raised her palm to Aren's face. He sat statue-still, but did not pull away. She gently placed her hand upon his cheek, and still gazing, smiled sweetly. Her other hand palm ran to his forehead, where long strands of black hair fell down to his shining glasses. She carefully brushed the hair aside. On his pale skin, a fine line of scar tissue ran across.

Flashes of protruding steel returned, images of pain, and adults looking on him in shock and disgust. Aren tensed, and exhaled.

"It's...it's okay," she whispered.

She ran her hand down to his temple, to place his hair behind his ear, he assumed. But instead, she touched her fingers to cold metal. It made her jump a bit, and Aren cringed inwardly. Covering his ears were domes of metal, preforated around their bases by black rectangular holes.

Her gentle palm left his pale, angular cheek. His open hand, laying at his thigh, felt hers slip into it, and tighten in a reassuring grip. Selphie smiled, amid their combined discomfort, and whispered, "maybe I'm finally starting...to understand..."

A pierce of shrill sound tore through Aren's head, and nestled deep inside, bouncing off the walls of his skull. He shut his eyes hard, and fought the pain. Not now, he thought. Please, just leave me alone now. I don't need to see it...

A wave of chorused screams surrounded him in the dark. He felt movement, the rush of wind beside him. Eyes snapped open, and a new location greeted him. He was alone, and found his bearings in a run-down, concrete-walled shack. Crumbling cement was piled at the far corner of the little one-room building; a gaping hole was present in the ceiling above it. A battered table barely stood at the room's center, with a rickety stool at either end. Ratty blankets were rolled up along the back wall.

He glanced down, and was taken aback. He had the body of a small boy. Filthy rags covered him; a pair of ripped bluejeans and an old fuzzy sweatshirt.

The rush of wind passed before him, and Aren saw a young boy about his size. Red-haired and freckled, he was gangly and just as raggedly clothed. "Come on, Aren!" he taunted. "You know the rules! First one to the Millie-Car gets to drive!"

The boy took off out a small wooden door, one that Aren had not noticed. He chased the child through. Outside, there was a filthy city street, and run-down shops lined either side of the road. In a break between two buildings lay a battered and rusted vehicle. Once it drove on six bulky wheels, but now it was propped on cinderblocks. A rounded front end sloped up to a barely-visible windshield, and the curve continued to the vehicle's rear, where it came to an abrupt halt. Aren recognized it as a Dollet MiliCar.

Aren struggled his hardest to catch up with the child, who ran across the street. "Tuh...Trey! That's no fair! You know I'm...slower than you!"

"Alright!" teased the boy, and he skidded to a halt. "Here's your chance!"

Aren pumped his arms, and his ripped-up shoes kicked up dirt from the street, as he pounded to catch up. But he lost his balance. And he tripped on himself, and flung forward, slamming the redhead in the stomach.

"Ooph!!" the boy grunted, and collapsed. He hopped back up, and gasped, "aw, look what you did! You tore my pants! Way to go, Aren!"

"I'm...sorry, Trey," Aren huffed and puffed.

"Yeah, well, it took me a whole day to find pants these good! Just for that, I get to drive next time too!"

Aren gave a dejected sigh. He slumped forward, as his friend ran off, and shook his head. "I'll never beat Trey to the Millie-Car..."

But he heard a strange sound, and lifted his head. It was coming from his right, and down the street some. A group of perhaps fifty men, dressed in shiny metal and blue cloth, and black boots and gloves, were standing shoulder to shoulder. They carried swords, and had strange, saucer-like helmets on their heads, tipped at the front by three red dots.

At their lead was another metal-wearing man, but he was dressed in red, not blue. His forearms were made bulky and powerful-looking by giant metal gloves. He wore the same helmet as the blue men. And he carried a long, jet-black tube in his arm.

The red man halted, as Aren watched in curiosity, and the blue men raised their swords. The red one dropped quickly to one knee, and he rested the black tube on his shoulder. Though he was distant, Aren heard his voice.

"Aim...fire!"

Clink, went the sound of metal dislodging from metal, and then came an airy hiss of releasing air. From the tube, a shining green object emerged, shaped like a ball that had been stretched out. It hovered in the air for a brief moment.

Fwoooom!! Flame and smoke burst from behind the object. Aren gasped in shock, and he watched it lurch from its spot in a breakneck streak of cloud.

Trey hopped into the front seat of the beaten Millie-Car, and slammed the door shut. He stuck his arm out the shattered, thin windshield. "Hey, Aren!" he called. "What's keepin' ya...?"

The object struck the back of the MiliCar. Bwa-booom!! The sound shook him to the core. And the flash of belching molten fire overtook his eyes. He screamed in pain and shock, and staggered away, locking his eyelids tightly.

He felt thousands of objects, all of different in sizes and shape, careen on his body. Scraping, stabbing, they tore him away.

Krunnnch!

A powerful impact cracked on his forehead, one that knocked him to his back. Pain stung him with terriffic force. What had happened? What was going on? They were in danger!

Aren reached to his forehead, and his hand was cut by razor-sharp steel. He felt the ice of metal, and the soaking of blood over his hands. And he screamed in terror.

"Run! They're in the city!" voices shouted in a frenzy. But he lay where he was. Something metal was lodged in his forehead. He screamed and cried, and kicked the dirt in the street, and he felt his blood pour over his face. But no one came to his aid. And as he waited, and wailed for help, he heard the once-bustling voices die away. New sounds came in their stead. The sound of marching feet, a sound that came for a time, and went away. And the dismal crackle of fire, which he could barely make out over his ringing ears. That was a sound that stayed.

Now it was the smells he noticed. The reeks of blood and sweat came first, as he jointly felt them run down his face. And the stench of burning metal, and burning plastic, he recognized those. But something else was burning as well, and he could not make it out.

His calls for help became dull moans, drenched in the pain that dizzied him so much. He struggled to sit upright. Perhaps he should open his eyes, to search for a rescuer...

Trey!

His heart skipped a beat. And he fought hard, to loosen the clamps of his eyelids, and submit himself to the sight of his torture. Sunlight burned him like the flash of fire moments before.

An immediate relief, he could not see whatever was protruding from his forehead. But he soon drew a deeper panic than his injuries were causing. He could see nothing. A haze of white was spread before him. He blinked, and rubbed his eyes, and shook his head back and forth in a frenzy.

Sight returned for a brief moment. The MiliCar was a pile of mangled green steel, melted to a solid mass in the rear. Doors were crushed, and some were missing. But the front door was still there, hiding Trey from view. And still dangling from the windshield, was the boy's shredded and bloddy arm.

Flash of white. And darkness.

With a choking gasp, Aren wrenched back his head. Thunk, it collided with the wall behind him. He heard Selphie gasp as well. Eyes opened; he was once again himself, and beside her on the train car. A bead of sweat rolled from his scarred forehead. He had seen it over and over, so many times, yet every one seemed like the first.

Selphie was panting for breaths. She shook in fear, and her face and hair were damp of sweat. Her hand grasped Aren's in a deadlock.

She gained her bearings. And still heaving her breaths, she looked up to Aren. Their eyes met. But he felt this time that it was no coincidence. She uttered a breathed gasp, and her own eyes widened; she stared right into him. And Aren's heart sank a thousand fathoms.

He could feel his jet-black sunglasses, broken and hanging loosely from one ear.

Frantically he turned to the glass of the train's windows, and took in his reflection. Behind thin, slitted eyelids, his eyes were pure white, save a tiny grey retina in each. The retinas focused together, and they focused dramatically, waning to near-dots as he stared at them.

He lightly closed his eyes, and turned to the young woman behind that. "Sorry, Selphie..." he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Selphie still gazed blankly. Her hand lightly covered her mouth. "Oh....Hy-yne! Aren..."

"Guess I'll be straightforward, too," Aren sighed, rubbing his face with steel-palmed hands. "I'm a mess...I'm all screwed up. And, I'm not worth your time."

"Aren, you...I..."

"No," he cut her off. "The last thing I wanted to do was make you more uncomfortable. Especially with all you're doing right now. I'm sorry. And I'm not worth it."

Aren felt her body press against his. He felt the slide of her arms around his shoulders. And he felt her squeeze him tightly. Selphie touched her cheek to his, and her tears ran over his face. The blood never entered his mind.

~