Chapter Thirteen

Tidus switched off the phone and stared down at it in his hand for a moment, running the conversation he'd just ended through his mind. He couldn't decide what alarmed him more – the fact that he had just hung up on perhaps the only person alive who could really tell him who he was, or the fact that he suddenly didn't care. How much did he want to know about himself anyway? He killed people for a living – that in itself was bad enough. Was there a need to dig any deeper? Were there any other deep dark secrets lurking under the surface? It was simpler, so much simpler, to start fresh with a new identity. He could be anything, anyone he wanted, and with all the money suddenly in his possession, he go anywhere in the world. He doubted he would be able to settle in just one place for the rest of his life, but maybe it could be a life of some kind. Maybe with Yuna. Maybe she'd want to run with him . . .

He let out a small, humourless laugh. God help him for being so stupid.

No way in hell he would ever be safe, not as long as he was breathing, no matter where he went and how hard he ran. They would never stop hunting him. This would never be over, and probably never would be until he was dead. And Yuna would probably be cut down in the crossfire, probably before he would, just so that his last moments alive would be plagued with guilt and loss. They could make it happen. It would be a final parting shot, a cruel lesson taught long after it was needed.

At that moment, the giant metal door began to slowly open from the outside, and he didn't have time to ponder anymore. He hastily stuffed the phone into the bag he borrowed from Yuna – now bulging – and shouldered the strap as the guard poked his head into the room.

"Ready?" he asked in a very bored tone. Tidus nodded wordlessly and moved towards the door, doing his best to keep his hands from shaking. He desperately wanted to speak with Yuna and appreciated the guard's quick pace as they made their way down the hall.

They were almost at the door to the processing room when the guard's cell phone rang. He stopped short and deigned to give Tidus a cursory apologetic look before answering it.

"Hallo?"

Tidus watched the guard's face closely; it went suddenly grim, and his entire body shifted almost indiscernibly into a tenser posture. Tidus strained his ears to hear the speaker on the other end, but the voice was too quiet.

And then he understood. He wasn't meant to hear the entire conversation, because the speaker was talking about him. Why else would they have called the guard's cell phone rather than use his radio, where they could both hear the arrest order?

"Ich sehe. Verstanden." The guard hung up and turned to face him. "Sir, I need you to come with m –"

Tidus silenced him with a sharp hit to the throat, and then knocked him senseless, catching him as the man fell. Carefully he lowered him onto the floor, silent so as not to alert the guards outside. He took the two glock 26s from the fallen guard's holsters, noting in a detached sort of way how comfortable he felt with the cold metallic weight in each hand, how ready he was to use them.

He reached the door at the end of the hallway and recalled that there were at least fifteen armed men out there, but since it was still quiet, he felt safe enough to assume that the same order had not filtered down to them. If they had tried to apprehend Yuna, she would have screamed or given him some kind of warning. The thought made his stomach squirm.

There was no point in trying to be quiet about this. He might as well go out, guns blazing, and use the element of surprise to take out as many as he could in order to get to Yuna. If she was still sitting where he'd left her, she would not be too far away from the door. With any luck, the guards would be too shocked to react fast enough. He checked the magazines in each gun and noted with a breath of relief that both were full.

Motionless for only one second longer, he sent up a wordless prayer to whatever powers that be and then kicked the door open.

000

Yuna jumped.

Less than a second after the door leading to the vaults banged open there came a storm of gunshots echoing painfully in her ears, and without thinking she threw herself down from the metal bench she had been assigned to. Her vision sideways, she saw six of the fifteen or so armed guards fall with blood spattering the floor around them. Only then did she realize that the bullets were coming from the two handguns in her companion's grasp.

The remaining guards were at first too startled to do anything other than duck for cover. Using this, Yuna's companion started making his way over to her, guns still held at the ready, eyes scanning for any available targets. He was careful; there was no need to shoot recklessly, wasting bullets as though they would never run out. He watched, and waited for signs of movement, and fired only then with alarming precision. She watched him move closer with a familiar pang, stricken by the deadly calm look on his face. It was the same expression he had back on the train when he dispatched their attackers, and it frightened her almost as much as it comforted her. Still watching for the guards, he slipped off the bag she leant him earlier and slid it on the ground towards her. She grabbed for it pulled it tightly against her.

Safely behind some form of cover, the guards began firing back. Someone was shouting frantic German into a radio, answered by a crackling voice on the other end. The blond stranger in their midst quickly backed up behind a counter and motioned for Yuna to stay put, somewhat unnecessarily. She had no intention of moving, and hugged the bag even closer to her body. A loud alarm bell sounded off, signaling that the Swiss police would soon be on her way. Yuna felt her heart sink and the very real possibility dawned on her that this could be it. This could be the end for them.

When there was a momentary lull in gunfire as the guards paused to reload, her companion moved out from behind the counter and sought out a new hiding place, closer to his targets. Yuna bit her lip and watched as he aimed and shot true, hitting the first guard to raise his head right between the eyes. She felt suddenly sick. The room smelled like hot iron and blood, and all she could do was let her cheek rest on the cool marble of the floor to keep her head from spinning.

He was never still. He moved like a ghost, silently and always just out of their sight, keeping low to the floor and taking advantage of every possible cover in the room. Suddenly Yuna could no longer see him, and a wave of panic hit her, and she strained her ears to hear his single handgun shots among the rain of machinegun fire. As long as she could hear those individual bullets flying, she knew he was alive.

A startled cry followed by a gruesome crunch and bodily thud announced that he had snuck up on one of the men and broke his neck – odd how familiar that sound was becoming. Another blow landed a few seconds later, and another man fell. It was all happening so fast. Yuna allowed herself a single, audacious glimmer of hope to rise up. Maybe, just maybe, they could get out of this. Maybe. Please, God . . .

A few seconds went by and she realized with a start that the noise was lessening. There were fewer and fewer men firing back. Then another minute passed and suddenly the bullets stopped, and the last guard standing collapsed with a gurgle and keeled over.

Yuna released the shuddering breath she had been holding and crawled unsteadily out from her hiding place. At the other end of the room, he turned to face her, his chest heaving ever so slightly. Their eyes met across the divide and then he suddenly dropped his handguns, looking as though half the life in him had just been sucked out. Swallowing tightly, Yuna clutched the bag tightly and hurried over to him, refusing to look at all the dead men littering the floor around her. She nearly slipped on a streak of blood and fought down the urge to throw up, choosing instead to keep moving until suddenly his hand reached out and grabbed hers.

"You okay?" he asked, inspecting her face closely as he held his hand out to take back the bag.

"I'm alright," she lied, handing the burden over to him. Only then did she realize that there was a bit of blood on him, and her gaze honed in on it fearfully.

"It's not mine," he told her, stooping to pick up a new weapon. The closest body yielded another handgun as well as a machinegun and even a knife. He took them all. "We gotta go."

She nodded and followed him as he finished arming himself and headed towards the door, inwardly bracing herself for whatever they might encounter beyond it. The alarm was still ringing, but she hardly noticed it anymore.

Out in the hall, he grabbed a fire exit sign off the wall, which had a schematic of the building on it. As he moved, his eyes scanned it for the quickest escape route, noting their current location. Yuna shadowed him as closely as possible, her gaze roving the hall around them fearfully. She could hear boots tromping up the stairs and someone shouting orders in German – either more guards, or the police.

"This way," he said shortly, tossing the sign away.

Her hand found his through a will of its own, and he pulled her down another hallway with a small window overlooking an alley at the end. He reached the window and immediately shoved it open, ignoring the sudden gust of wind outside that made Yuna shiver.

"We have to climb down," he told her, moving aside so she could get out first. She wedged herself through until she froze. "We're high up, but –"

"Mon Dieu," she whispered, transfixed by the drop that greeted her. It was probably not a good time to tell him that she was afraid of heights as well. "This . . . I cannot, it is too –"

"We don't have time!" he cut her off sharply. "We can't afford to freeze up right now."

She nearly screamed when he shoved her the rest of the way out, keeping his hand on her wrist so that she did not fall. Her feet dangled over a vast oblivion for a moment before her brain reconnected with her limbs. She couldn't help but release a small whimper as she scrambled for some support. Still clinging to the sill, she lowered herself until her toes landed on a slightly protruding ridge – part of the building's old-fashioned architecture. As soon as she felt it underfoot she began inching over to make room for him, trying desperately not to look down or even think of looking down. He let go of her and she shut her eyes, willing herself not to slip and fall as he maneuvered his way down to her side.

"Okay. There's a fire escape around the corner and down a bit," he said, speaking quickly but in a gentler tone. "It's not too far, but we have to move fast. They're already on this floor."

Yuna nodded, digging her fingers into the concrete to keep them from shaking. The wind was picking up, tugging at her clothes and pushing her hair in her face. She tried to ignore it but she was suddenly aware of everything around her. His silence, her pounding heart, the adrenaline pumping through her body, the cold sweat on her skin, the bite of the wind, the traffic on the street nearby, the police cars lined up at the curb, the pigeons cooing on the roof . . .

His hand on her lower back brought her back to reality. "You can do this," he told her quietly. "Remember the box in Maechan's basement? You got through that in one piece, didn't you?"

She took a deep, calming breath before she finally forced herself to move. Slowly, achingly, she pulled herself along the ridge, keeping her eyes fixed on the wall in front of her. The windowsill disappeared and was replaced by a deep groove in the mold, offering a more solid handhold.

"That's it," he said encouragingly. "You're doing fine. You're doing good. All right, listen, I'm going to drop down to the ground and –"

Yuna's head snapped around to face him with wide, horrified eyes. "What?" she demanded. "You're leaving me up here?"

"Right now we're sitting ducks, Yuna," he told her firmly, warning her with his tone to keep it down. "They can pick us off easily. If we split up, they'll come after me first. I'm the one they really want. And besides, by the time you get down I'll have found us a car and we can get out of here fast. Trust me." He reached over and touched the side of her face, his gaze softening. "It'll be okay."

She stared at him pleadingly. He pursed his lips for a moment before reaching into his back pocket and bringing out the knife he took from the dead guard. "Don't be afraid to use this, if you have to. It's us or them."

Taking another life was against everything she believed in, but the weight of the knife in her jeans made her feel a little better –more in control. She sighed shakily and nodded. "Yes. You're right."

He leaned forward and kissed her, before pulling back enough to look her in the eye. "You'll be fine, I promise. Now go. Get to the fire escape."

The young woman nodded again, remembering the warmth of his lips on hers as she turned her head away. If she watched him jump down, she knew she would get sick and fall herself. Instead she listened. He let go of the ledge and dropped down a level before she heard him grab onto another handhold, grunting mutely with the effort of holding himself up. He kept going, grabbing every little crack and fissure that came his way and swinging himself down until he landed softly on the pavement below. She would have enjoyed watching such a display of grace and agility were the situation not so urgent. Yuna closed her eyes fearfully and kept moving, desperately waiting to round that corner and find stairs waiting for her. He stayed where he was and watched her for a moment before he took off to find a car.

She kept going, and at last she reached the corner. Bolder, she began to move faster and made her way around to the other side. The fire escape was so close, closer than she had anticipated, and relief flooded through her as she drew nearer. At last she was close enough to reach the cold metal rail and she immediately latched onto it before climbing onto the ladder.

"Halt!"

She went completely still, not needing to turn and face the window leading into the building to know that there were several guns aimed at her back. Her body stiffened as the cop who called out to her clambered onto the fire escape, backed by at least six others with their weapons at the ready. She did not react as he grabbed her and bound her wrists behind her with white plastic. She did not react when he began reading her rights with a thick, barely discernable accent. She did not react when they frisked her for weapons and took her knife away. She did not react when he forced her forward down the ladder. She did not react when he pushed her into the back of a squad car.

Only when the bank disappeared from sight down the street did she swallow her shock and burst into uncontrollable tears.