Troublesome Customer

"Nice place you got here."

Sazh turned slowly from where he was working on a broken sewing machine and stifled the urge to either scream or shoot himself. "Fang."

Fang gave him a winning smile, which only increased his fear ten-fold. "How you doing, Sazh?"

He turned back to the sewing machine. "Whatever it is you want, go find someone else."

She chuckled. "Come on, Sazh, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"Old friend?" He stomped over to her. "I can't even begin to count the number of times you almost killed me with those crazy schemes of yours."

"Oh come on, they weren't that crazy." Fang pushed him back to his workbench and laid a piece of mangled metal down in front of him. "Besides, I've just got one teeny, tiny favour to ask you…"

Sazh picked up the piece of metal and his face wrinkled in disgust. "This used to be a gun, Fang, emphasis on the 'used to be' part. What do you want me to do, fix it?"

She nodded and smiled. "Actually, that's exactly what I want you to do."

He shook his head. "No way. I don't do that kind of work anymore, Fang, you know that."

Fang looked around the workshop. There were disassembled sewing machines and other mechanical knick-knacks like boiler parts scattered around. "I can see that. So tell me, Sazh, just how much fun is it fixing sewing machines all day." She grinned. "I'm sure you're just dying to get to work each morning."

He pushed the broken gun away. "It's not bad. Besides, you know how things are now, Fang. I've got a kid and a wife to look after. Do you have any idea what the marshals would do to me if they knew I was helping you and Vanille?"

Fang patted him on the head. "Oh, don't be like that, Sazh. You know I'd never lead any of those jerks here. Besides, if they even think of going after you or your family, I'll sort them out good and proper." She pushed the gun back toward him. "Now, you can't tell me you aren't interested in working on it."

Sazh bit his lip. Fang's gun was something special. He hadn't made it, but if he ever met the person who had, he'd be sure to shake their hand. It was a work of art, the kind of weapon that any gunsmith – even a retired one like him – dreamed of working on. "Fang…"

Before he could say anything else, he was cut off by a loud, angry, and most definitely female voice. "What are you doing back there, Sazh? You're supposed to be working and instead I hear you chatting with some woman. Don't you even think about cheating on me!"

Sazh grimaced. "I'm not cheating on you honey."

"Then it better not be another customer come back to complain about the job you did." The woman's voice was filled with exasperation. "Honestly, people just want their sewing machines fixed. They don't need you trying to make them better when they worked just fine before." The sound of footsteps grew larger as the woman reached the door of the workshop.

"Run," Sazh whispered to Fang. "Save yourself."

"How?" Fang whispered back. "That's the only door."

And then the door swung open. A beautiful dark skinned woman stood there, her mahogany eyes narrowing ominously as they swung from Sazh to Fang. Just behind her was a young boy with a small chocobo perched on his shoulder.

"Oh… it's you, Fang."

Fang grimaced. "Well… uh… it's nice to see you again, Lahna."

Lahna scowled. "I can't say the same. Why are you here?"

Fang struggled mightily to rein in her temper. Her gun wasn't exactly in working condition, but her fists were just fine. Somehow though, she didn't think Sazh would take to her slugging his wife too kindly. Still, it might just be worth it. "I was just seeing Sazh about my gun."

"Your gun, huh?" Lahna said. "Looks like scrap to me." She glowered. "You will be paying, right?"

Fang rolled her eyes. "Of course, I'll be paying. In fact, I've got fine hundred gill set aside just for this."

"Five hundred gill, huh?" Lahna's furious expression became thoughtful. "That's a fair bit of money." Her brows furrowed and she turned to glare at Sazh. "Get to work on that gun, Sazh!" she barked before she turned to the young boy behind her. "Come with mommy, Dajh, your father needs to work. Fixing sewing machines and boilers doesn't pay too well."

"Bye, Fang!" Dajh called, waving as he went off with his mother.

The moment the door of the workshop slammed closed, Fang sagged against the workbench.

"One of these days, Sazh, I swear I'm going to get her." Fang made strangling motions in the air. "Honestly, what did you ever see in her?"

Sazh sighed. "She's just fine most times. I just get the feeling she doesn't like you."

Fang gave him a look. "You think?"

Sazh shot her a glare of his own. "Stop acting like you haven't done anything to deserve it. If I recall correctly, you slipped a snake into her bed not long after you met her and that was after you tried to shoot her."

"I though she was trying to strangle you," Fang protested.

"She was kissing me!" Sazh threw his hands up in exasperation.

Fang threw her own hands up in exasperation. "Kissing is a form of strangulation!"

Sazh let loose a low chuckle. "I suppose it is at that. Now let me take a closer look at that gun of yours, seeing as how everybody seems to want me to fix it." He fixed her with a firm look. "You do have that five hundred gill, right?"

Fang grinned. "Of course."

"Good." He examined the gun carefully and winced as he took in each individual bit of damage. Not only was the barrel bent all out of shape, the chambers were all blown out and even the hand guard and trigger were damage too. He winced. "What exactly did you do to this gun?"

Fang laughed nervously and then replied. "Itgotrunoverbyatrain."

"What was that?" Sazh asked.

Fang looked away. "I said that it got run over by a train, okay."

"Run over by a train?" Sazh looked from her to the gun slowly with a brittle smile on his face. "That's a new one. Care to enlighten me as to how exactly your gun, a one of a kind prototype Cain Special single-action pistol which is probably worth more than everything else in this workshop put together ended up under a train?" By the end of it, there was a vein bulging out on the side of his head and his hands had crept up to wrap tightly around Fang's wrists.

"Um… how about you let go of my first." With some difficulty, Fang managed to pry Sazh's hands off her wrists. For an old timer, he was pretty strong when he was angry. "Well, me and Vanille ran into a little trouble a few days ago. You see, we might have sort of maybe blown up a bridge and derailed a train."

Sazh twitched. "Go on."

"I ended up fighting these marshals and one of them managed to get my gun off me… I guess it just ended up under the train before it derailed." Fang rubbed the back of her head nervously. "Funny how things like that happen, isn't it?"

Sazh laughed for about two seconds, before he slapped her over the back of the head. "No, Fang, it's not funny." He picked up the mangled gun. "This thing is a work of art, one of the greatest guns ever made, and you let it get run over by a train. I should just shoot you right now."

She grinned. "Well, it's a good thing you don't have a gun…" she trailed off as she saw him reach for a wrench. "Now let's cut to the chase, Sazh. Can you fix it?"

He sighed. "Come back in a week and I should have it done by then – that's if it can be done. And bring Vanille too. You know how much Dajh likes to see her."

Fang nodded. "I'll see you in a week then. Take it easy, old man." She patted his hair. "And try to take things easy. I think I'm starting to see some grey."

"I'm not that old," Sazh muttered a few moments after Fang had gone as he went to look at his reflection in a mirror. "And there's no grey in my hair… is there?"

A week later, Fang was back with Vanille. Lahna was waiting for them on the porch, a big pitcher of lemonade on the table in front of her and a shotgun across her lap.

"Expecting trouble there, Lahna?" Fang asked.

The older woman nodded. "Yeah. You." Then her expression brightened as she turned to Vanille. "Well, good afternoon Vanille, aren't you a fine young woman!" She turned back toward the house. "Dajh, Vanille's here!" As Dajh came out of the house with several glasses, Lahna looked back to Fang and Vanille. "Now come sit down here, Vanille and have some lemonade. I'm sure Dajh is just dying to hear all about what you've been up to."

"Don't I get any lemonade?" Fang asked.

Lahna glowered at her. "You've got business with Sazh out back." She glanced back at Vanille. "Now, come on, Vanille, hurry up and sit down. Tell me all about how things have been going for you. It must be tough spending all your time with a degenerate."

"Hey!" Fang whined. "I'm right here."

"Yes, Fang, I can see you, now get out back and settle up with Sazh."

"Um… maybe you shouldn't shout our names so loudly," Vanille said. "We are sort of infamous."

Lahna smiled. "Of course, dear." She poured Vanille and Dajh a glass of lemonade each. "Now why don't you tell Vanille all about Chirpy, Dajh? I swear that chocobo's getting bigger everyday. He can barely fit in your father's hair anymore." She scowled over at Fang. "Well, what are you waiting for, get going."

"One of these days," Fang grumbled as she stalked over to Sazh's workshop. "One of these days I'll give her a piece of my mind…"

She found Sazh waiting for her with the gun sitting prim and proper on his workbench. For a moment, she could only stare at it in amazement before she picked it up. The barrel was long and straight and polished till it shone. Spinning the chambers, she grinned at the smooth, easy turn of them. Finally, she held the gun properly and the familiar feel of it in her hand was like welcoming back a long lost friend.

"Tell me you've got bullets, Sazh, because I really need to shoot something."

A half hour of shooting later – most of which she spent imagining Lahna in place of her targets – and Fang was finally satisfied. The gun was as good as new, and maybe even a little better.

"Thanks, Sazh, I owe you won." Fang grinned.

Sazh grinned back. "Actually you owe me five hundred."

Fang continued to grin. "Surely you can do an old friend a favour and…"

"Five hundred, Fang." Sazh's continued to grin, as well. "That's what we agreed on. Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to invite you and Vanille to stay for dinner. I'm sure you and Lahna will have plenty to talk about."

"You play dirty, old man," Fang grumbled as she fished out the money. "But you do know I was going to pay you anyway, right?"

Sazh smiled. "Of course. You might be a lot of things, Fang, but you've always treated your friends well."

"In that case, I'll be seeing you later," Fang said as she turned to go and fetch Vanille. However, she'd only gone a few steps when Sazh spoke again.

"Oh and just so you know, Fang, you and Vanille really are invited to dinner." Sazh chuckled as Fang tripped over her own feet. "That's what you get for calling me old," he whispered as he headed back into his workshop to fix up another sewing machine.

X X X

Author's Notes

First of all, I neither own Final Fantasy nor am I making any money off this.

At last we have Sazh and Dajh entering the story. The idea of Sazh as a retired gunsmith/gunslinger was something that I'd considered for a while before writing this chapter. However, the idea of his wife as not only being alive, but also quite, shall we say, ferocious is something that just happened to pop up as I was writing the chapter. In any case, I liked the way it ended up, so I decided to keep it. If you want to blame anybody, blame The Incredibles, which I was watching while writing this chapter. As for the use of Lahna as the name of Sazh's wife, it's something I made up because I couldn't find an official name for her anywhere.

As always, I appreciate your feedback. Reviews and comments are welcome.