a/n: This took forever to write...and it's not even good!! =) Totally blocked on this fic. My bad!! I think I'm getting back into the groove though, there's more coming soon.

~

"So, what exactly do you need to see?" Selphie glanced up to Aren, as the foursome of SeeDs strolled down Xann Avenue.

Aren pointed to the giant Garden ruins, towering some distance away. "I'll need to set up a tripod in the Main Hall," he replied. "Just a second's worth of processing, and we'll be done. Shouldn't take me long."

Irvine waved Aren's way, as he walked beside Quistis. His trench coat blew some in the wind. "Ain't much of a bother to me," he shrugged.

He glanced nonchalantly in Quistis' direction. I'm doin' just fine right here, he thought.

"Me either," Quistis nodded. "I'm just happy to be out of Balamb for a change!"

Her eyes made a casual shift toward Irvine. Did he just look at me? she thought. No, of course not! Of course not.

"...Besides," she finally continued, "it's nice to see Trabia again."

Selphie laughed. "You're kidding, right?"

The group raised heads toward the sky, as lightning stabbed through darkening clouds. Dusk was quickly falling on Trabia, and from the looks of it, a thunderstorm as well.

Aren raised his thin eyebrows. "We'd better hurry up," he said.

Irvine examined the neighborhood, as Aren and Selphie doubled their step. Somehow, the buildings looked more run-down, almost twice as ruined as those near the medical tent. Few buildings even existed as whole; the street was lined with barely-standing walls and piles of steel and concrete. Citizens were dressed in filthy rags. They huddled about fires in steel barrels, as cold wind whipped threateningly at the flame.

Whaddaya know, he pondered, even a dead city has a bad neighborhood or two. He cooly reached into his coat, and slipped a few shells into the shotgun that hung from the inside.

Quistis grasped the handle of her chain-whip, as it dangled in neat loops from her belt. This is not the best of places to be caught in the dark.

As they passed, a group of young men looked up from their fire barrel. They were dressed in torn industrial coveralls, filthy and overworn. A belt hung from each's waist, and contained several weapons.

One of the men, bony-looking and bald-headed, raised an arm and formed a deep scowl. "Tilmitt!" he screamed, a whiny, high-pitched sound.

Aren was the first to turn. He immediately faced the half-dozen gang members, and folded his arms, staring behind his opaque military goggles. Irvine and Quistis nearly jumped; they responded next, their hands eager to retrieve a weapon.

But Selphie was last to address the caller. She turned to him slowly and rigidly, and gave a feeble wave. Her reply came shakily. "H-Hello, Mede..."

The skinny leader pounded his fist in his palm. "Aw, ain't this just nice! Back from another vacation, eh?"

"No...no, I w-was trying...to get funding...for the city!"

Irvine had a careful look at each of the gang members. They've all got electric prods and knives, he thought. And semi-auto pistols, too. Except for the leader, his looks like some kind of submachine gun. We gotta take him down first.

Quistis silently performed Scan on the members. No magic, she thought. But they're strong against physical attacks. Looks like they're wearing fairly strong armor. My magic's too slow...maybe I can pierce it with my whip...

Mede scoffed at Selphie. "You know what? Shut up with the funding already! We're frickin' sick of it, Tilmitt! We're sick of watchin' you walk out on us every damned time so you can whore around the frickin' globe!"

Aren bared his teeth in a deeply-carved scowl. He slowly lowered his arms to the sides of his black coat.

With a quick double-pop, Mede unsnapped the holster on a long strap, stretched across his chest from shoulder to waist. He raised a beaten submachine-gun. The gang members emulated his action, and unholstered their pistols.

"P-please, Mede!" Selphie cried, stepping back, and frantically looking this way and that. "We didn't do anything!"

"Looka-you," he sneered, pointing the thick barrel of his gun. "And you used to be SeeD. You's a disgrace. You ain't gettin' off my turf alive." His free hand locked a small clip into the side of his weapon.

Irvine threw his trench coat open, retrieved his shotgun and quickly snapped it to aim. But he noticed his foes react not to his action, but to Aren's beside him. Aren had readied a fully-automatic Galbadian Hellcaster. He cradled the stocky, squarelike weapon with both hands. A long, heavily-padded stock wrapped around his jacketed forearm. Under the Hellcaster, a long banana clip was firmly attached.

"Weapons on the ground, now!" he growled. Irvine listened to his friend, and laughed. Dispite being outnumbered two to one, this imposing fellow had managed to intimidate the enemy with only his stance and a quick shout.

Selphie gasped, and nearly fell to the ground. "Oh Hyne!" she screamed, with a shaking hand pointed to the broken sidewalk.

Quistis quickly turned to investigate. At the base of the gang's fire barrel lay an old man and two children. The man wore a de-radiation suit; the children were dressed in ragged playclothes. Their bodies were slashed and bloodied.

"That's gonna be you, Tilmitt," smiled Mede, growing back his confidence. He stared at Aren's pointed Hellcaster. "Yeah, dat's right! We did 'at! Hacked 'em up real good! Whatchyou gonna do 'bout it?"

Aren's head turned slightly toward the sidewalk, but quickly returned to his foe. "Weapons on the ground," he repeated solemnly. "Nobody's gotta die here."

"Oh, whatchyou gonna do wit dat, eh city-boy?" Mede stepped forward. "You ain't gonna shoot me! You prob'ly ain't never shot a gun in your life!"

Irvine thinned his eyes. He's stalling. Must be nervous, or they'd all have shot us up by now.

Mede laughed. "Ain't nobody knows how 'ta shoot a Hellcaster 'round here!"

Aren lightly squeezed the Hellcaster's trigger. Four laser sights crossed at Mede's chest. The gang leader's eyes widened, and his smile disappeared. He slowly brought down his gun.

But Mede brought it back up. He squeezed the trigger hard, and the submachine-gun's muzzle blared with fire.

Irvine heard a single shot leave the weapon. He watched as Aren grunted sharply, his right shoulder jerking back. Aren quickly fired the Hellcaster. The volley of shells ripped through a violent muzzle flash, and thunderous claps pounded the air. Mede was not a pretty sight.

Irvine was already moving. He dove behind an unlit fire barrel, discharging both shells from his double-barrel chambers. Only one gang member fell, clutching his arm.

Quistis grabbed Selphie by the arm and dragged her to the opposing sidewalk. Revolver bullets pounded a rusted car, as they dove for refuge behind it. Quistis calmed herself and cleared her mind.

Ping-ping, bullets collided with Irvine's barrel as he broke his shotgun. He knocked the spent shells from the chamber, and slid fresh ones back into place. Across the street, Aren was crouched behind a crumbling building wall. He turned to Irvine and spoke. And though their distance was rather great and the gang weapons were firing, Irvine could hear him perfectly.

Irvine, there's only four left! Two on the left are close. Let's run 'All or Nothing!'

"Aw, man!" Irvine sighed. "I hate that plan!"

Aren shook a rousing fist. We gotta finish this so I can stop the bleeding. I'll get your back!

"You're the boss," shrugged Irvine. "On three!"

One, two...

Aren raised his arm sharply. A banshee scream filled the air as a powerful soundwave knocked into Irvine's fire barrel. It sent the steel barrel flying, and pounding into a gang member.

Irvine came up shooting. Both barrels fired again, and he was able to wound two of his enemies. He heard Aren's Hellcaster growl behind him, and watched the third blasted off his feet.

Quistis peeked to the side of the old automobile. Aren shouted in pain, and halted firing, collapsing to the ground. Irvine's gun was empty, and the fourth gang member was taking quick aim.

Irvine stared down the revolver's barrel. "Aren, kill him!"

Bright light flared amid the dark street. A searing lightning bolt fell from the sky and struck the attacker, jolting him in a stupor. Aren looked quickly up, and leapt to his feet, charging him full-force. The Hellcaster swung above Aren's head, and slammed the gang member unconscious.

Quistis ran from her spot, once again dragging Selphie. "Aren, are you all right?" she called.

Aren sighed angrily and stood. "I'm sorry," he shook his head to Irvine. "Too much strain. Couldn't keep it up."

But Irvine was paying little attention. He pointed to Quistis, dumbfounded. "You...you've got a Guardian Force?"

"Um...yes..." she replied. "It's a long story..."

Selphie grasped Aren by the shoulders and looked him over. Her eyes stopped at his right arm. His coat was torn and spotted with blood.

She gasped and stepped away, her hysterical eyes meeting his calm visage. "Hyne, Aren! Are you...are you..."

He nodded, and smiled a little, pulling up his right sleeve. On his forearm was the metal healing clasp, and it glowed in crude operation. "It works!" he announced.

---

Aren sat on the floor of a small, windowless room. Its four walls were plain and uninviting drywall, cracked and splintered in many places. A door at the far end was shut, but not locked. Beside Aren was a small oak dresser. Across from him, on a small and worn-out bed, Irvine lay with his hat over his face.

"I can't believe I dropped like that," said Aren. He adjusted a small bandage on his upper arm, and rolled down the sleeve to his dark red sweatshirt.

Irvine covered his ears. "I can't believe you won't shut up!" he laughed. "Like, it's cool, man! I'm fine, everybody else's fine. 'Sall good."

"Still, that just ain't right. You think I need another stab?"

"Nah," Irvine shrugged. "It's just been a while since you last took a bullet." He laughed and raised his hat, pointing it to Aren. "Believe it or don't, getting shot is not an everyday occurrence!"

Aren smiled and leaned against the wall. "Heh, not anymore. Well, the bullet's dissolved, I think. Don't feel it in there anymore."

"Good," yawned Irvine. "See you tomorrow."

He tossed his hat to the lightswitch by the old wooden door, and the room went pitch black. Silence filled the air. But sadly, it did not last long, for Aren's voice broke it wide open.

"I wonder if it was all those Potions that Selphie gave me! I'm not used to taking those..."

"Aren?" said Irvine.

"Yeah?"

"Shove it."

Aren nodded in the dark. "Right, right. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" laughed Irvine.

Once again, the peaceful silence returned. But it was also short-lived, thanks to Aren.

"Irvine?"

"What?"

"I need a drink of water!"

Irvine jumped to his feet. "Aren, you want another hole shot through that arm of yours?"

"Okay, fine!" Aren laughed. "Can't even take a joke! Geez!"

---

Quistis placed a tiny red pill on her tongue, and sipped at a glass of water. She swallowed, and set the cup atop the dresser beside her. "That's that," she sighed.

Selphie sat on the bed, in a room that looked identical to Aren and Irvine's. "Wow," she smirked, "I can't believe you've got a Guardian Force!"

"Uh-huh," said Quistis. "If you ask me, though, it's not worth it. All the shots and pills I've had to take...quite an experience."

"Egh," Selphie cringed. "No fun. But at least you've got your magic!" She half-laughed, and dropped her head some.

"Yeah, I suppose."

Quistis stretched, and sighed. She glanced down at her timepiece. "Selphie," she asked, "do you mind if I go for a little walk? I'm not tired."

Selphie raised a smile. "Sure, they don't care around here. You're safe. Well, you would be anyway, with Ifrit on your side!"

"Thanks," replied Quistis, and she quietly opened the creaky door.

---

Aren stepped into the dark, cramped hallway, and gently shut the door behind him. He tapped at the side of his goggles, adjusting his vision to account for the darkness.

Quistis slipped from her room. As she slid the door closed, the lights inside went out. She tiptoed down the hall as quietly as her clapping boots would allow.

They met halfway, and exchanged glances. Aren's visor and Quistis' thinly sloped eyes both seemed indifferent, but both SeeDs smiled as they reached each other.

Aren nodded professionally, Quistis did the same. They quickly shook hands and proceeded on.

---

Selphie's door slowly opened, and Aren peeked his head inside. "Selphie?" he whispered.

He could see her in the shadows, hunched over on the bed. Her head was bowed forward, cradled in her hands. She slowly raised it, and turned to him. "Oh, hi, Aren."

"Did I wake you?" he asked, though he knew he had not.

"Oh, no! No, come in."

Aren nodded, and stepped inside. He pulled the goggles from his eyes, placing them in his pocket, and approached her bed. "Thanks for introducing me to your friends today," he said, as he sat at her side.

But Selphie was silent for a change. She sighed deeply and clenched her fists.

Aren gently lay his palm on her shaking hand. "You know, I understand. I really do."

"Oh, Aren, it's...it's impossible!" she blurted. "They won't put any effort into rebuilding...and I leave to get them some money...and they call me a traitor!"

The pale young man was silent. His ghostly eyes stared across the room, at the dark wall, at nothing in particular. His hand was firmly on Selphie's. And he sighed solemnly, as she gnashed her teeth and pulled her hair.

"They hate me! The adults call me a mercenary, the teens call me a whore...even the kids hate me sometimes! 'Why don't you stay, Seffie? Don't you care?' And when I do come back...they all wanna kill me! Aren, I can't even come home!"

Aren's hand gently touched her cheek, and wiped her tears. Selphie felt the smooth metal of his palm streak down to her chin. She raised her misty green eyes, and they met with the pure grey of her friend's.

Selphie saw so much in Aren's eyes. She saw an earnest and good nature, and an eagerness to serve. She saw the experience of many hard-fought battles, and of the hardest battle of all, that of life. But most of all, she saw a young man. A teenager, tortured by some untimely tragedy that robbed him of so many things, and changed him in ways she could barely understand.

"I know what it's like," he whispered. "It's awful."

Selphie turned her eyes, and forced a cheery smile. "I...I'm sorry, Aren, I don't really get this way often. I guess I'm...just under a lot of stress, that's all. Didn't mean to kinda vent that all on you."

"Hey," he grinned, and guided her back to his eyes. "That's what I'm here for."

"To listen to me whine?" she chuckled, drying her eyes with the end of her bedsheets.

"Yeah, to listen to you whine. Selphie Stratagem, how's that sound?"

Selphie laughed, and leaned against him. Aren gently lay his arms about her waist. He glanced from her smiling face for just a moment, and in his mind he panicked. He had worn a short-sleeved shirt, and his pale forearms were marred with long white scars.

Selphie showed a quiet concern. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

Aren returned to her face, and once again he smiled. "No, nothing."

The beautiful girl rested her head on his chest. "I'm here for you, too," she whispered, "if something's bothering you."

"Well," said Aren, looking down on his friend. "I'd tell you all about it, but I can't seem to remember what it was."

~

"Well," said Quistis, propping herself against the wall. "Wasn't that something!"

Irvine chuckled, and stretched on the bed. "Yeah, haven't seen action like that since me an' Aren hit up the Fourth Bridge!"

She half-smiled, and raised her eyes. "Um...good times?"

"Eh, I guess. It's kinda hard to say, you know?" He yawned. "Yeah, but I digress. How'd you get your GF back? I thought you didn't wanna take the risk."

"I don't," Quistis replied. "They've got me on some chemicals that are supposed to keep my memory intact."

Irvine raised a dark eyebrow. "They've tested this stuff, right?"

"Well," she chuckled, "on me."

"Hey, you be careful what they're giving you! I just got you back, I'm not gonna watch you flip out on some crazy drugs!"

What does he mean by that? thought Quistis. But she smiled coolly, as she always did, and nodded his way. "Thanks, I'll be just fine."

---

"I hope you don't mind, Selphie. But I prayed for them tonight."

Aren sat in Selphie's bed, his grey eyes shining smoothly in the darkness. Selphie lay in his arms, carefully wrapped in the ragged sheets and quilts. Her head rested against his chest, and her green eyes and smile reached up for him.

"The...the victims?" she said. "Why would I mind? Boy, it's just horrible. I prayed too."

"Yeah," said Aren. "The victims, them and that Mede."

Selphie blinked her heavy eyes. "Mede? You...you prayed for Mede?"

"Mm-hmm."

"But...but Aren! He's a killer!"

Aren looked into her eyes. "I'm a killer," he said. "Maybe Hyne doesn't see us any differently."

Selphie's auburn hair brushed against his shirt, as she shook her head defiantly. "Aren, I'm sorry it happened too...but, you saved our lives! You're a hero."

"I used to think so," he replied. When he closed his eyes, their shine left the room, and it grew darker. "When I was younger, and I first joined the army. I thought I was everybody's hero. But you know what? You know what it all boils down to? There's no good guy, no bad guy. Everybody's got a reason for what they do. We're just people, killing each other. I'm well-convinced Hyne hates me."

Aren's grey eyes opened again, and bathed the bed in a dull glow. Selphie had never lost her gaze.

"I don't think so," she smiled. "I think...maybe Hyne understands."

With her words, her eyes, and her smile pointed his way, Aren could do nothing but smile back. "Maybe," he said.

~