Author's Note: It's been a awhile since I contributed to this, but I think I'm coming back into it and updates should come more quickly along with a couple of new ideas I have brewing. I'm resigning myself to the idea that the chapters are short and won't apologize anymore. Selphie's short, chapters are short. It's only fitting.

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The maintenance halls stretched on for miles and miles. Unfortunately, the wet tracks stopped after a dozen feet or so, and every half-mile a ladder would climb up to a hatch unto the train tracks. At any point he could climb up them and turn back, but I didn't think he would. All that waited for him in FH was the armament of the Galbadian army.

I never saw fit to unjunction myself. The world was still a dangerous place after the Lunar Cry, especially so where I was going, and I hated the thought of giving up the superhuman abilities it gave me. Presently, I was built for speed and stamina. I would make the trip to Esthar in about a day. Without junctioning I could never hope to catch up to him. Or survive the encounter when I did.

Big brother could never hide from me, but he sure could run. All things being equal, Seifer was far faster than I was, faster than any of the kids in the orphanage. Chalk it up to long legs and a lifestyle that had him running into and out of trouble at all hours.

My quick pace and reminiscence stopped as the sound of an approaching train above had me stop to cover my ears. The noise was deafening in the closed confines, even with my ears plugged, and the lights flickered and darkened. After two or three minutes, it passed completely, and I set off again, thinking with some amusement, of forceful thoughts that ripped away my childhood memories from the snatching claws of the Guardian Forces. The lights came steadily on in the tunnel and in my head, with a little prying.

I set out again. My mind filled with neglected memories of times that I didn't remember forgetting. …Not that one ever does, but, you know what I mean.

Life was a little more than a giant beach when we were together as kids, and if there was more to it than that, you could keep it to yourself. We spent every pleasant day on the temperate sandy shores by the lighthouse and many nights and rainy days too. The beach was always littered with the small wonders we as children loved to discover: the roving hermit crabs, pretty empty shells, fish, and ancient driftwood. When not on the beach or forced into the house, there was a big field full of fragrant flowers and a nearby swamp, which happened to be one of Seifer's favorite haunts. He would travel out there and I would follow him, eager to see what disgusting but cool creature he would try to capture. We would trapeze over the logs with pinched noses to block the awful stench, sneakily approaching a frog, snake, or something else, trap it, and then take it back to the orphanage.

Where it would invariably end up in a dresser drawer, down Quistis' dress, Zell's shirt, or on one memorable occasion, in the toilet. Following the screams of our victim and the foreboding quickening click of matron's heels on the wood floor, he and I would run off again, to the safety of the swamps. Giggling the entire way, we would recount and try to mimic the faces and screams until we couldn't breathe and our sides hurt from laughter.

After getting back home, he'd ruffle my hair, not gently, but affectionately, threaten anyone who thought of having revenge on me, then rip an arm off my doll the next day, or push me down, tell me that no one would adopt a "pipsqueak tomboy."

We always came back to the same routine though, and no one could pick on me except him, and I hadn't wanted it any other way.

As quickly as I took back the ability to view my childhood, it left again. All time, all things, are borrowed. Quistis would call it 'opportunity cost'; what you give up in order to have something else. Somewhere along the line I'd decided that my fighting ability was more important than my memories, but I couldn't remember why.

A train approached on the other side of the track, coming back to Fishermans Horizon. It wasn't nearly as loud as the one that came directly above me, but it still played with the lights and showered dust and small rocks on me.

This far in the tunnel, a fine film of dust covered the floor. It kicked up as I ran along.

Damn it.

I looked behind me. There was a cloud of grey soot fogging the way I'd come, dust dampening the light of naked bulbs. I swore, this time aloud. There were no tracks but mine and no dusty clouds ahead. The tracks at the entrance had been fresh so there was no way I couldn't have overtaken him if he was still down here. Darting to the other side of the tracks, I checked for prints and clouds. Nothing.

The next hatch to the surface wasn't too far away and I flew up it.

Once I was back out in the open, it struck me just how confined I was inside. The sun had set. The air was humid and chilly, floating along jet streams in the open ocean. Stars absolutely blanketed the night sky and shone brightly with no nearby city or other source of light to compete with. It was breathtaking. I turned around and the wind immediately whipped at my hair, weighing it down with salty breezes. Directly ahead of me the stars abruptly stopped halfway down the sky.

Fresh water was on the air. There was a quick flash of lightning and a peal of thunder. Great. A storm was behind me. I needed to cover as much ground as I could quickly, because I didn't like my chances on the bridge in a monsoon.

The wind made all the loose fabric around me flap loudly and blurred my vision. I ran with the wind at my back, into the east, where I hoped to reach some shelter, or at least find a suitable place to bivouac before the rains hit. Humid air became soupy before I stepped onto the earth again. Soaked already, I scanned the rocky terrain, thankful that the oppressive moisture mostly left the air as soon as there was ground beneath my feet.

The sterile air around the salt flats acted as a desiccant, but wouldn't absorb the rain. I found a jutting rock formation that shielded wind and was reasonably high above sea level. Tenting myself and my things awkwardly under the overhang, I used a few crampons and strung out a hammock.

No noise reached my ears but the wind, distant rain, and the occasional thunderclap. No animals or insects or birds dotted the landscape. I was completely, utterly, alone. For the first time I found myself really examining and questioning the reasoning behind my sudden flight.

I unzipped my bag and started chewing on some dried meat. There were few things I hated more than being by myself. Sorceresses from the future and jelly doughnuts came to mind... But being alone scares me more than any monster or any mission I could be tasked with. I think it's because I have less control over my thoughts; they start to wander and turn dark, focus on unrealized fears, and question the sanity of their creator. Sometimes they wander and I think they won't come back.

The sea was churning in the distance, bright flashes highlighted whitecaps in the waters, spray and hail as the storm rocked the horizon bridge. I lay down on the hammock, exhausted, but unable to sleep. The wind whispered black threats and harrying shrieks as the first raindrops fell of the Estharian continent, shooting up plumes of gray and red dust as they crashed to the earth. Soon there was a cloying dampness even here and the dirt in the air was sucked back to the land.

Why did I choose to run off on my own? Seifer, I hope you're worth it.

Now I would have liked to find him just to have someone to talk to, someone to be around. Someone to talk over the unhappy thoughts and bad weather. Someone to tell me that I really did help save the world, and it was worth saving, and it won't just keep going back to war after war, persecuting my family, stealing and raping and lying...

Can't someone tell me? That I have reason to be as happy as I pretend to be?

Eventually I was paralyzed by the sounds of the frightening wind, hammering rain, deafening thunder, and the cries of a little girl afraid of the storm. I shivered until a rogue breeze cut around my tarps and feathered through my hair. The girl stopped crying and I fell asleep.