Splintered Dreams

"Chocobo Races and Good Luck Kisses"

Chapter 31

Barret led them to a rusted old junker of a pick-up truck that was parked beside a dust corroded trailer and mostly hidden behind some sheets of metal and crates full of Gaia knew what. Zack eyed the materials—always good to see if there was anything they could use—and the men slumbering nearby with a critical eye.

He wished he had his sword—he always felt more in control with that heavy weight between his shoulders--but he was more than adept at hand to hand should the need arise. Although from the look and smell of the four men piled near the truck, the only threat they posed was the possibility of vomit.

"Yo, Coates, wake your ass up!" Barret rounded the cement blocks that held the truck off the ground and slapped the dented hood. When that got no reaction he pulled open the driver door and yanked a man out of the cab.

"What the hell?" Coates—a middle aged man with dark, pock marred skin and deep set eyes—swore at them as he stumbled forward. He righted himself and pressed his hands down the front of his dirty, wrinkled, ridiculously green suit and blinked groggily up at Barret. "You again," he sighed, scratched the gray hair on his head. "Look, I already told you, you can't get out of here without winning a race, and you can't go up to race without getting permission—"

"Dyne's dead," Barret cut in with another sharp slap to the truck. "So he ain't giving permission."

"Dyne's dead?" Coates looked at the rest of them, as if for confirmation, so Zack simply crossed his arms and nodded. "Maybe things will calm down a little," Coates muttered, still scratching at the back of his head. "Now that crazy-ass Dyne is gone..."

Without warning, Barret curled his fingers around Coate's lapels and yanked the man off his feet, pulling him within a breath. "Watch what you say."

"Y-yes, s-s-sure, sorry."

"Barret." Calm, but firm, Tifa placed her hand on Barret's forearm and leveled him a steady stare. "Let's not kill the man that can get us out if here, okay?"

"He shouldna run his mouth."

"I'm sure Mr. Coates didn't mean to be disrespectful." She gave the older man a pointed look.

"No, no, course not."

"See?"

With a snarl Barret let go.

Deciding that it would probably be better if he asked the questions—not to mention safer—Zack nudged Barret aside and addressed Coates. "How do we get out of here?"

Still watching Barret warily, Coates shook his head. "Look, like I told your friend, the only way to get pardoned is to go up to the Gold Saucer and win a chocobo race. Losers come back down."

It wasn't like they actually wanted or cared about a pardon, Zack figured. As long as they were up at the Saucer then they could escape, to hell with racing."Fine, great, whatever. So send us up."

"You aren't hearing me," Coates sighed in exasperation. "Only one can go up at any time."

Barret snagged him by the neck again. "Say what?"

Choking, Coates managed to wheeze, "You ca-can kill me and it won't change that. That's the rules...I can only send one up...Dio's rules." His fingers plied at Barret's. "So, whoever goes up can hash it out with Dio; nothin' to do with me."

"Fuck." Barret released his grip. "Now what?"

"Zack has the most experience with chocobos," Aerith tapped her chin. "He should be the one to race."

"Zack is the most logical choice," Red agreed. His comment drew Coates' gaze to him and he gave a high shriek as he scrambled onto the pickup truck. Red, for his part, rolled his eyes and swished his tail. "Humans."

"Aw, we're not all bad," Tifa crouched, rubbing his head.

Chuffing, Red leaned into her fingers. "No, not all of you."

"Wait, I wanna race," Yuffie pleaded. She angled her head toward Zack. "Pleeeeeeeeease."

"No."

"You suck."

"Yuffie—"

"Lalalalalala," she turned away, hands covering her ears.

"She's a loud one, eh?" Cait stated, covering his own ears.

"Again—what the fuck is this thing?" Barret jabbed a finger at Cait.

"Later," Zack said. Barret was going to have fits when Zack revealed that Cait was a robot-Reeve, and quite possibly just shoot the thing, and then Zack, rather than listen to reason.

"So," Coates cleared his throat, "you then?" he asked Zack.

Zack looked at Barret. "Well?"

"You'd better win that race, Princess."

Back to Coates. "Me then."

"Okay," Coates dusted off his jacket. "We just need to find you a manager and get you registered, then."

"Consider the manager part taken care of."

The unexpected voice behind them swung heads around.

Coates rose up on his knees, his eyes wide. "Ester?"

"I couldn't help overhearing. Name's Ester, and I'm a jockey manager. Best there is," the new arrival said by way of introduction.

Coates nodded in agreement. "She's ugly, but she's good."

"Rude," Ester huffed, but there was no heat behind it, and if the amused curve of her mouth was any indication, she'd been expecting it.

Ester, with thick brown ringlets and bright blue eyeshadow, was as male as he was, Zack was certain, but not the type to judge, Zack was willing to take whatever help they could find. He held out his hand. "Pleasure."

Ester grinned, took it with a blush. "Aren't you a delicious slice of criminal."

Zack grinned right back. "Yes." He caught Tifa's eyeroll from his peripheral and his dimple appeared.

"Come on, then." Ester waved them along. "To my office, and we'll work out the details."

Ester's office—a small room with a crooked desk and a telephone—was inside the weathered trailer near the truck. It took a minute for everyone to crowd into the tiny room, bodies brushed and bumped, but when Tifa scootched in front of him, pressed close due to limited space, Zack wasn't about to complain.

He leaned forward so his chest was flush to her back, his hand moving to rest on the curve of her hip with a detour along her side. He felt her tremble slightly and his own pulse kicked up in response.

He inhaled, and even dust covered and sweaty, she smelled of something clean and inviting. He closed his eyes, angled down another inch so the dark strands of her hair tickled his nose.

"Zack?"

His name snapped his head up and he found an amused Ester staring at him from her desk.

"What?"

"I asked if you had any riding experience."

"Oh." He flashed his teeth, ignoring Barret's glower and Aerith's knowing smirk. "Yeah, I can ride."

"I just bet you can," Ester muttered, pen scribbling on her form.

In front of him, Tifa snorted back a laugh. Zack squeezed her hip in gentle reprimand. She leaned back with her shoulder, bumped.

It took a few more questions and a phone call before Ester nodded. "All right then, Zack. You're in. We'll head up on the elevator, and I'll fill you in on the details."

There was a general shuffle as they slowly filtered through the narrow trailer door, and being in the corner as they were, Zack and Tifa were going to be the last ones out. Noting this, Zack reached for her hand, tugged her back, turned her. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Hey," he murmured, eyes heavy and smoldering.

Flustered, and very aware that their comrades were just outside the open door, Tifa's brows arched in question. "Uh, hey."

"I don't suppose I could persuade you into giving me a kiss," he wondered, moving so that his lips nuzzled her ear. "For luck."

Heart pounding so hard she was surprised her eyeballs stayed in place, Tifa gave a short, breathy laugh. "I might be persuaded." She linked her fingers behind his head. "If it's for luck."

"Lucky, lucky me," Zack grinned, and then bent his head to brush his mouth over hers. That fleeting caress turned into another, and another, and each stroke was more soft and inviting than a fresh made bed and if Tifa could crawl inside of a kiss, she would have.

Gentle, his teeth grazed her bottom lip, and she smiled against him. Playful and seductive. That was Zack.

The kiss went deeper, became a slow heat that swirled around her, tangled reason and senses until she couldn't tell up from down and didn't really care to. She sighed, opened, and sank her fingers into the thick softness of his hair.

"Hey, did you guys get lost...oh, nevermind. They're busy!" Yuffie's amused voice registered somewhere distant through the pleasured fog, and Tifa blinked her eyes open reluctantly. It was so easy to get lost in him.

With a little sound, she eased away, pressed fingers to his lips when he leaned close again. "The others are waiting."

"Let them wait," he hummed against her hand, those bright blue eyes of his simmering with lust and promise—an invitation. Come, Tifa, have fun with me.

So, so tempting. She shook her head. "Zack."

"Was afraid you'd say that." He puffed out his cheeks.

Unable to resist the pout on his face, she offered up a compromise. "Tell you what," she said, "win that race, come back and get us, and then we'll continue this..." her breath sighed against his mouth when she removed her hand, her lips moved against his chin while mischief sparkled in her eyes.

Her name was a short groan. "I'm gonna set a record," he vowed, capturing her face between his palms so he could kiss her again. "You watch." This time when he kissed her it was with purpose and Tifa felt her knees go weak.

He pressed, teased, played and then when she was dizzy, he slipped a hand in her hair, angled her head and drank deeper.

"Okay, okay, then," she murmured shakily when she could manage to break away. "You'd better get going."

With a wink, he practically flew out the door, grabbing Coates and Ester as he passed. "C'mon, c'mon, let's go. I gotta race to win!" And left Tifa laughing in the rotted out office.

"Hey," from the doorway, Aerith poked her head in, and if the smile on her face was any indication, Yuffie had already spilled what she'd walked in on. "Mr. Coates says he has a television we can watch the race on."

"Oh, okay." Tifa smoothed her hair, tried to calm the frantic beat of her heart.

"Need a minute?" Aerith's green eyes danced with amusement.

Tifa blew out a breath. "No."

"Uh-huh." Aerith nodded, a little too knowing. "Well, come on then."

Tifa followed Aerith out, fingertips on tingling lips.

The elevator ride back up to the Gold Saucer was quick, but during it, Zack answered Ester's questions and explained—as much as he could—about their current situation.

"I see," Ester nodded thoughtfully. "Tell you what, handsome, you just focus on winning the race and I'll deal with Dio." When he started to protest, she waved him off. "Dio and I go way back. Just concentrate on the race and leave the rest to me."

That took some of the pressure off his shoulders, and as reluctant as he was to pass his problems onto others, it didn't appear that Ester minded. "Thanks, Ester."

"You have riding experience, but have you ever raced?"

"Not here." Against a Zolom, sure.

Ester leaned against the wall, faced him and tapped a heel. "I'll give you some pointers when I see who your racing against."

"Okay. Thanks."

Another appraising look. "You're bigger than the other jockeys, that's for sure."

"Flirt." Zack winked.

Ester flushed. "Oh, you are a wicked thing." There was a longer pause, and then she said, "I don't usually say anything, but I...I'm male."

Zack shrugged. "Yeah, kinda figured."

"Oh." She blinked, clearly not expecting that. She recovered quickly though. "Well, okay then. It's just really hard to resist those eyes of yours," she said as she opened her handbag. She pulled out and applied a deep red lipstick. After a pouty check in her mirror she tossed the cosmetics back in and slanted him a look. "Even if they are dead set on someone else."

"That obvious, huh."

"Only as the sun. She's a nice package."

"She is. Beautiful all around," Zack nodded. "Inside and out."

"Oh, honey, you have it so bad."

Another chuckle but this time his smile was slightly strained. He loved her...wanted her to love him...but could she?..."Don't I know it."

Almost maternally, Ester patted his cheek. "If the way she looks at you says anything, she does too. Now, stop making me blush, and start focusing on winning and whatever proper motivation you need for that."

"Oh, I'm going to win," Zack stated, determination sharpening soft blue to sapphire. "I have the motivation." Soft lips and red flecked eyes and a smile that melted as much as it strengthened. Yeah, he had his motivation. Fist to palm, he nodded at Ester and repeated, "I'll win."

"Yes," she agreed. "I think you will."

The elevator lurched to an abrupt stop and Zack reached out to steady Ester so she didn't stumble. When the doors opened the loud sounds of the Gold Saucer greeted them and Zack was amazed at how very different it was from down below. Three minutes and two different worlds, he thought with a shake of his head.

"This is the jockey lounge," Ester informed him as they stepped out.

"You," A man rose from a chair, pointed. "Who're you?"

"Relax, Joe. He's with me."

"Oh, Ester, hello." Joe slicked his hair, straightened his shoulders. "You look pretty, as always."

"Thanks. Zack this is Joe. He's one of the best jockeys in the business. Joe, this is Zack. He's racing today. Only took him a day to get up."

Joe whistled. "Wow, impressive. What'd you do to land yourself down there, anyway?"

"Joe."

"Right. Sorry, Ester." To Zack, "We aren't supposed to ask. A man's past is is own to carry, you know."

Better than most, Zack thought, but simply nodded.

"I'm going to go check on a chocobo for you," Ester told him. "I won't be long. Stay here until I come get you, okay?"

"I'll walk with you," Joe offered, following Ester out. "See you around, Zack."

Hating to be idle, Zack observed the lounge as he did squats. There were three men at the center table, playing cards—all in jockey gear—and two others chatting at the refreshment bar. The security cameras overhead rotated in fifteen second intervals and there was no on-site guards. Not that there was much need. The jockey lounge had no tills and no money, so the likelihood of criminal activity taking place there was minimal. Not to mention the criminals that were there were there trying to win freedom.

"Thanks for waiting."

Behind him, Ester approached, brochures in hand and a bottle of water extended toward him.

"Thanks." He took the drink.

"You're in the next race," she told him, unfolding the pamphlet. It's a simple run, but you have some decent competition. How good are you on a mount?"

That was a pretty hard judgment call to make. It wasn't like he'd ever compared himself to anyone else.

Seeing his blank look, Ester shook her head, brushed her hair behind her ear. "Okay, I'll assume you're good. You look good,so yeah, you're good."

"That'll work," Zack nodded. He popped the cap from the water bottle and took a long swig. His throat was dry and sore from the dust and heat from below. He immediately felt a flare of guilt for drinking the water, knowing Tifa and the others were still in Corel. He'd get them out soon, he thought, determined.

"The chocobo you have is 'Butterscotch'," Ester continued. "I trained him myself, and he won't easily be beat. Let's get you to the race paddock, and then, it's all up to you."

"Tifa, would you stop pacing," Barret grumbled, flicking a piece of something or other off the armrest of the chair he was in. "You stressin' yourself into a tizzy ain't gonna change matters, so just relax."

Tifa shot him a narrow look.

"Or, walk a hole in the floor. Whatever works for you."

Aerith settled herself on the floor near Red. "He's going to win," she said with her usual quiet confidence.

Tifa nodded but her steps didn't stop. He was up there, all alone. What if Shin-ra found him? What if that Dio guy was unreasonable—as he'd already proven to be—and Zack was cornered? What if...

So many what ifs.

"It's starting!" Yuffie exclaimed, twisting the volume. She jostled the little television in her excitement.

"Easy does it!" Coates pushed her aside, adjusted the metal antenna. "This is the only TV we got down here."

"Both of you, sit your asses down," Barret ordered.

Despite herself, Tifa found her lips curving at his gruff behavior. It was a good sign. She was worried about him, about how everything he'd just endured would affect him, and about how he'd cope. Barret wasn't the type to lean on anyone else, so she hadn't expected him to talk to her—or anyone—about his feelings, but she'd wondered if he'd be able to move past it.

And slow, the sullen silence he'd given them since Dyne's suicide was being replaced with sharp retorts and loud commands. Familiar, and welcome. She knew it would take days, months, years, a lifetime...who could tell?...for him to ever really heal, but this—bluster and bellow—this she was used to.

"I see him! I see Zack!" Aerith clapped, pointed.

Tifa turned to the television, and sure enough, there was Zack onscreen. His name and unregistered jockey rank was displayed across the screen as well as some announcer speculation that Zack was an up and coming jockey he'd heard about.

He didn't look nervous, Tifa noticed with some relief. In fact, the cocky grin and twinkle in his eye spoke of arrogant assurance and when the camera passed him again he winked.

And the crowd went nuts.

Cheers and boos and a chorus of sighs.

"I bet he has a fanclub by the end of this race," Yuffie speculated.

"Stupid-ass better not screw this up," Barret muttered.

"Oh, he's gonna win," Yuffie flicked a glance over her shoulder. "So Tifa will make out with him."

"What?" Barret and Tifa said in unison.

Face on fire, Tifa avoided Barret's stare and glowered at the back of Yuffie's skull. Eavesdropping little ninja brat...

"Quiet, it's starting," Cait waved his thin arms. Then, leaning back, he said, "Ye can practice on me, if ye want, lassie."

Tifa thumped the crown on his head.

"Ouch."

"Will someone please tell me why the fuck we have a talking toy with us?"

"He is a Shin-Ra robot used for gathering information and controlled by a man named Reeve Tuesti. His presence is a result of little to no alternative in accepting it. Now will you please be silent so we can watch the race."

"Thanks, Red." Tifa's dry reply was met with a yellow blink.

"Teef?" There was warning and question in her name.

Sighing, she finally met Barret's heavy stare. "We had no choice, really."

"Want me to shoot it?"

"What?" Cait leaped to his feet, scrambled onto Red's back. "No, no, no."

"Get off." Red growled.

"He's gonna kill me!"

"Get off."

"Everyone calm down and shut up!" Tifa slammed her heel down. "No, you will not shoot it. You, get off of Red. Yuffie, turn it up."

Aerith patted the less than clean floor beside her. "Come, sit. You look tense."

Tifa exhaled and took the offer.

Aerith linked their arms and together they anxiously watched the television. It was up to Zack.

Butterscotch was no Charlie, but he wasn't bad. Zack patted the plume of feathers sprouting from the bird's head. The answering wark was eager. The chocobo knew what the lights and gate meant. It was time to run!

Crouched low, Zack murmured soothing sounds. "We're gonna go, and have some fun, and win a race, and get some kisses. Well, me, not you. But I'll get you some greens if you win. Nice ones. So let's do this."

Wark!

"Yeah!"

The bell sounded, the gate blasted open and Zack was a blur of feather and man. The lights and music thrummed a rhythm that was fast and furious, and the frantic scream of fans and riders drove his adrenaline up and he tightened his knees, leaned into the bird—into the turns.

It was a rookie mistake to try and control the birds. He'd learned that months ago when Charlie threw him forty or fifty times. It was better, faster, more fluid, to encourage the natural gait and speed.

Luckily for him, Butterscotch's natural gait was long and he was fast; race a Zolom fast and Zack laughed into the feathers. "Almost there!"

To the surprise of quite a few people he crossed the line first, and—not only first—ten full seconds ahead of the rest of the pack. Laughing, feeling the rush of victory, he rose up, pumped his fist.

When the announcer proclaimed that Zack had set a new course record, cheers and whistles and flowers rained over him. The floating cameras whirred by his head and he grabbed one. "See, Tifa, I told you!" He kissed the lens.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling so wide.

Tifa clapped and hugged Aerith who was laughing and cheering as well.

"Calm down, calm down," Barret said, only to be completely ignored.

"Calm down?" Yuffie scoffed. "Did you see him? He owned that race! That was Zacktacular!"

Red cocked his head. "Zacktacular?"

"Yeah, it's my new word," Yuffie grinned. "Now what?" she asked Coates.

"Now," he said with a nervous glance at Barret, "we wait. Winning the race means your friend has his freedom. No guarantees on the rest of you."

Ester met Zack outside of the locker room. She handed him an envelope. "Congratulations. You ran a hell of a race."

"Thanks." He lifted the envelope. "What's this?"

"It's money." Dio strolled into the hall. Shirtless, as usual. He had the Buster Sword with him. "It's what the jockeys usually take on a win."

Zack shook his head. "I didn't race for money. I want my friends out of Corel—"

"Relax," Dio held up a hand, held out the sword.

The moment the hilt touched his hand, Zack felt a shift inside. Like welcoming a friend back.

Dio also handed him a new harness. "Ester already explained everything. Paperwork is being printed now, and transportation arranged. I wanted to come and tell you in person, even though I'm a very busy man. Busier now that you've been here." Dio leaned forward, voice lowered. "Does the name Sephiroth mean anything to you?"

Zack froze the sword harness unclasped, his blood chilled. "Yes."

"Just met the man," Dio shivered. "Creepy bastard, but I can imagine he has lots of SOLDIER fans. Saw your eyes and thought maybe you were one."

"Not a fan," Zack ground out.

"Aw, well, all right then. If you were, and wanted an autograph, he's headed south. Said something about Gongaga."

Zack's world tilted dangerously and his heart stopped. "Gongaga?"

"You all right, Zack?" Ester peered into his face. "You've gone pale."

"Get me to my friends," he said, urgency lacing his normally playful tone.

"Already here." Barret shoved through the double doors, glared at Dio.

"Zack!" Tifa ran to him, her eyes wide and face bone white. She knew. "He's going to Gongaga!"

"I know," Zack caught her up. "Where are the others?"

"Waiting outside in the buggy," Barret answered.

"Buggy?" Zack was already walking to the exit, Tifa beside him. Her hand was tight in his.

"Another gift from Dio," Ester answered, trailing them. "As apology for wrongfully accusing you. Hey, if you ever come back to race, look me up," she called after them when it was apparent they weren't stopping.

Zack waved an arm over his head. "Thanks for everything, Ester." And he was gone.

Ester touched her cheek, shook her head. "Take care, Zack."

The 'buggy' was a beast of a vehicle. Large enough to hold all of them, comfortably, it had a thick bullet-proof exterior and treads that would travel land and water with ease. Zack only cared that it was fast.

Gongaga.

The fucker was headed for Gongaga.

"Reeve, Cait, whoever is in there right now, I need to know what this thing can cover. Then I want the fastest way to Gongaga."

"On it."

Zack started the engine and when he reached to put it in gear Tifa's fingers threaded through his. "We'll get there," she said with a squeeze. "We have to."

Zack nodded. They had to.

AN: wow, I had way more fun writing this chapter than that last brick of a chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it more too. Thank you for sticking with me, even through the less than smooth parts and boring bits. I love you guys. Thank you for reading, and for those that take the extra time to review, I do appreciate it. More than I can say. Thank you.

Coming up: Gongaga, Zack's Mom, and yeah, some more kissing.