Chapter 15

Wakka was hunched over the kitchen table, nursing a mug of old coffee at five in the evening, when the telephone rang. As he had been for the last few days, he leapt to his feet with surprising speed for a man his size and scrambled to answer it.

"Allo?" he breathed into the receiver, sensing Lulu entering the kitchen behind him.

"Officer Wakka Renoire?" a deep voice intoned, speaking French with a slightly unpolished American accent.

"Oui."

"This is Agent Kelk, with the CIA. I've been called in to help with the case involving your friend, Miss Savard."

He frowned over his shoulder at Lulu, who was dressed only in her red silk bathrobe, and mouthed 'CIA' to her. She raised an eyebrow in response. "What can I do for you?"

"I can imagine this has been a very stressful time for you," Kelk went on, somehow managing to come across as sincere. Wakka was surprised at that. "And I know it seems that the police are after Yuna in hopes of arresting her. But I want to assure you that this is far from true. We know that she is no criminal. The wanted posters were not my idea, nor am I particularly pleased that they were allowed to circulate that way."

"But that man she's traveling with . . ." the redhead sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Lulu's cool hands landed on his shoulders, kneading the muscles gently. He knew that it was partly to comfort him, and partly so that she could listen in on the conversation.

Kelk seemed to hesitate. "His story is complicated, to say the least, not to mention highly classified. I would tell you more, but I think it would be best if we focused on Yuna. She is our best chance of getting our hands on him."

Wakka could almost hear the way Lulu rolled her eyes behind him, and he couldn't help but curl his lip slightly. "So you want me to tell you as much as I can about her to help you out. Oui?"

"It would oblige me, yes." This Kelk person was certainly more direct that other men of his breed. He didn't bluster or try to put on airs, which Wakka had not been expecting. "Any information you have might go a long way to solving this."

"Listen, I want to find Yuna more than anyone – she's been like a sister to me for the last three years – but the truth is, there isn't much to say," he said with a shrug. "She's a quiet girl who leads a simple life. Or . . . well, she did until a few days ago, anyway. She never talked about her family, or her life before coming to Marseille. That's the truth, monsieur. I really can't tell you much."

"I see." If the man was disappointed, he did a good job of hiding it. "Well, let me leave you a contact number, in case you think of something."

Wakka scrawled down some numbers on the back of his hand, said au revoir, and hung up the phone. Turning around, he automatically opened his arms to Lulu and pulled her to his chest, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and he could feel her naked curves hiding just beneath the thin silk of her robe.

"What is that girl thinking?" he murmured, resting his cheek on her head. They had been asking each other this question a lot lately. "What on earth possessed her to run off with someAmerican?"

"I would say that she is running off with a lover – and God knows she could use passion in her life – but running off with a fugitive? She is not that foolish." Lulu slipped her arms around his waist and closed her eyes. "There is more going here. The government is after this boy, and they'll do anything to get to him, even if it means Yuna gets hurt along the way. Of that, I have no doubt."

He squeezed her just a bit tighter.

000

Evening descended, and though Tidus was suddenly weary from all the revelations of the day, he knew there was no way he would be able to sleep any time soon. The days seemed to blur together in his mind. It was hard for him to believe that he had only been on the run for three days. It felt like a lifetime; though, he supposed, since he didn't remember anything before this whole mess, it really was the only lifetime he knew.

He watched Yuna clear away the dishes from their room service and bring them over to the sink. The idea that he hadn't known this woman for ages seemed odd to him. His best and only friend of three days. She caught his eye and smiled fondly at him, and he felt a stir in his heart that was becoming more and more familiar as time went on. Losing her would be more than he could bear, he'd come to realize with a faintly sick feeling. The only way to fight through the feeling was to remind himself that he would never, ever let anyone or anything hurt her. He'd die first.

He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and let his head drop into his hands, sighing. It had been such a long day, but it felt as though there was no real rest in sight. Sensing his exhaustion, Yuna came and sat next to him, her hand on his back.

"Just think," she said quietly, "that all this will be over when we hand the file over to the authorities. Then you and I can –"

His head snapped up and he blinked at her in confusion. "Wait, what?"

"The file," Yuna repeated with a frown, gesturing to the folder on the table, stacked up with all the plates leftover from their room service. "I was just saying that –"

"You want us to give it to them?" he stammered, staring at her. He rose up from the mattress. "That's . . . no, we can't do that."

She stood up quickly, looking slightly pale. "I don't understand. Wasn't that the whole point of coming to Zurich? To find something we can use against the people that are after us?"

"Originally, yes," he conceded, "but that was before it was apparent that these people can infiltrate certain levels of the government. If they can slip into the police force, what's stopping them from being part of the Supreme Court, or something? We have no idea who we can trust in the system, Yuna. If we just hand the file over to someone, it's just as likely to get destroyed. Then all of this will have been for nothing."

She tightened her jaw for a moment. "We can trust Wakka. He's my police friend, back in Marseille. He will see to it that the documents are –"

"Yuna, we don't know that," he insisted.

"He would never betray us!" she cried, indignant. "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I didn't mean him personally," he said quickly. "It's just that one man alone can't guarantee anything for us. Think about how many supervisors he works under. He could easily hand it over to someone working for them without even realizing it."

"So what are you suggesting we do?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tidus ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled heavily, pacing around in a small circle. "Well, honestly . . . I think we should arrange a trade of some kind."

"With . . . with them? What sort of trade?"

He turned and looked at her pointedly. "Think about it for a minute. These people have no idea what we're planning to do with that file, and what's worse, they don't know where we are. That's bound to scare them. But what if we offer them the documents in exchange for having our names cleared, and to be left alone for good?"

She gaped at him for a moment, and he could see in her eyes that she was struggling with this. He licked his lips and closed the distance between them, taking her hands in his.

"Look," he continued softly, "I know this is important to you, just as much as it is to me. You've given up a lot on the hope that maybe we could figure this mess out. But you've gotta trust me on this, Yuna. The file is the only thing that can keep us alive, and God willing, safe."

When she still couldn't think of a response, he brought a hand up to stroke the side of her face. "If they agree, then I promise you I will find something else. I will dig up whatever dirt I can to bring them down. Can you do this with me?"

Yuna leaned into his touch, but her eyes seemed distant with thought. "So . . . how do we go about this?" she asked tentatively. "How do we even get in contact with them?"

"Well, I tried tracking their number on the satellite phone, but it doesn't look like its wired to allow that kind of thing. One way calls only. So it looks like we're going to have to find another way to flag them down."

Her brow furrowed as she gazed up at him. "How?"

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "The only thing I can think of is finding a security camera somewhere on the streets of Zurich and waving my arms around. But I don't exactly like that idea."

She stifled a yawn and began stripping her clothes off to get ready for bed. "Well, let's not worry about that tonight. Sleep first, plan later."

He pulled his shirt up over his head and kicked off his shoes. "Now there's an idea I like."

000

"Good God, Mr. Seymour – do you ever leave this office? Like, ever?"

Seymour scowled up at her from his curled up position on the couch and came to the conclusion that Miss Rikku Welsh was becoming less and less formal the more time she spent around him.

"Well, Miss Welsh, you see, grownups have this thing called 'responsibility'. And that usually means that you're not supposed to leave until the job is done," he replied groggily as he managed to pull himself upright. She raised an eyebrow and handed him the first of what was to become many cups of coffee.

"But you're allowed to sleep on the office couch from time to time?" she asked.

He sneered at her tone. "Forgive me, I am but a mortal man. Is there a reason why you woke me up?"

"Kelk is on the phone."

He cringed inwardly. Shit. "I'll take it in my office."

With a confidence in his stride that he did not feel, Seymour made his way through the winding corridors to his office and shut the door behind him. The phone sat ominously in wait. This was a conversation he did not want to have.

"Kelk," he said stiffly into the receiver, seating himself in the leather chair behind his desk. "What can I do for you?"

"You can start by cutting down on the bullshit, for once," the deep, gravelly voice replied scathingly. "When exactly were you planning on telling me that Raines has amnesia?"

Sighing, Seymour leaned back in the chair and rubbed at his temple. It was a problem he'd been mulling over for hours, and no conclusion made much sense to him. Still, he was prepared to lie, if necessary. Kelk was dangerous. "For God's sake, you really believe that to be true? It's a ploy to try and throw us off. There's never been a history of this sort of thing –"

"Well according to your people," the other man cut in, "there's also never been a deviation from the job, particularly from a man who came so highly recommended."

"Look," Seymour ground out, "even if he is telling the truth, which I doubt, he's still a threat to us. He . . ." He paused and deliberated for a moment how to word this as delicately as possible. "He's gotten a hold of some . . . classified documents that could look bad for us. Not just us, everyone, the whole damn government. The CIA wouldn't fare so well either, if he decided to use the information."

"What kind of information are we talking about?" Kelk asked, with an obvious frown in his voice.

Seymour pulled out a bottle of Wiser's from his desk drawer. Supposedly, he quit drinking six years ago after his second divorce. Supposedly. He took a hefty swig before replying with a slightly mocking tone. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss it further, Kelk. The point is, I can't rest – and I sure as hell don't expect you to rest – until Raines and that woman are brought in." He decided not to elaborate further on the term 'brought in'. Kelk probably had his own ideas on what it meant.

"So Miss Savard is a real threat? How? Christ, she's a med student."

"The fact that she's breathing the same air as him means she can't be trusted," Seymour said, taking another swig. "She's suspicious. That's enough for me."

"So you're going to arrest an innocent hospital intern with absolutely no criminal record and a soldier who doesn't even know what's going?" Kelk stopped to compose himself somewhat before continuing. "I understand that the situation needs to be contained a bit, but god damn it Seymour, you can't just –"

"Can't what, Kelk?" the man shot back, slamming his hand down on the desk. A woman walking by the office gave a start and blinked at him through the glass door, before hastily walking on. "Can't do my job? Can't save the jobs and reputations of every man and woman working in the system?"

"Don't pretend for a second that I'm stupid enough to think there isn't more going on here than you're telling me," Kelk shot back venomously. "The only reason I'm not launching a full investigation of SIN's activities is that I don't have enough evidence to back up my suspicions, other than the fact that I know you're a lying snake. Don't give me that bullshit about protecting the men and women working for you. You're trying to cover your ass, and I'll be damned if I let two innocent people suffer for it."

Seymour blanched and remained silent, pressing the receiver to his ear even after Kelk hung up on him. After a moment, he rose to his feet and took another mouthful of whiskey with him out the door.

"Lynwood," he said, entering the surveillance room. The other man lifted his head up at his name and came over to his boss at the doorway. Seymour crossed his arms and leaned closer to his colleague to avoid being overheard by the others. He saw Rikku Welsh watching them curiously from across the room.

"What is it?" Lynwood asked.

"I just got a call from Agent Kelk, with the CIA."

"I know him."

"Then would you happen to know how the hell he found out about Raines' supposed amnesia?" Seymour asked as calmly as he could.

Lynwood raised an eyebrow, unflappable as ever. "Kelk has an annoying habit of finding things out, Seymour. You really think there isn't an informant of some kind in the building? Maybe even on this very team?"

Seymour's gaze shifted to the people milling about the room, most of whom were occupied in front of a computer screen of some kind. Rikku went back to browsing through some papers on her desk when his eyes landed on her for a moment. "I hadn't thought of that, actually."

"I'm not saying it's a definite thing," Lynwood shrugged. "But you never know. Some secrets are too big for some people to keep."

His boss closed his eyes in a quietly irritated sort of way. "It would just be nice to have a team I can actually trust. But I guess that's asking too much."

Lynwood clapped a hand on his shoulder in a compatriotic sort of way. "Don't worry about it so much, Seymour. Even if Kelk did hear a thing or two, there's not much he can do to use it against us. Word of mouth isn't exactly indictment material."

Seymour was surprised to feel slightly comforted by that. He smirked crookedly at the other man, whom he could have considered a friend were they familiar with each other outside the office. "True enough, I suppose." Then he stopped and regarded Lynwood's face ponderingly. "Lynwood, I've been meaning to ask . . . how did you get that scar?"

His coworker removed his sunglasses – worn almost constantly – to show Seymour the full extent of it. It was a nasty-looking thing in that it permanently sealed the right eye shut, but at the same time it was kind of dashing. Lynwood was mysterious enough on his own; having such a defining scar only made his image all the more fascinating. Seymour had never bothered to look all that closely at it before now.

"Nasty bar fight when I was in college," he replied with only a hint of a smile. "Some frat boy with an attitude." It was hard to tell if he was kidding or not, but Seymour still found himself chuckling.

Slightly cheered, he urged Lynwood back to work and headed back to his office to make some phone calls.

"So, what did Seymour want?"

Lynwood glanced up at to see Rikku Welsh hop up onto his desk just as he was sitting down. She smiled openly at him and swung her legs, very much like a child. The perky young blonde usually avoided talking to him – a lot of people did, actually – but now she addressed him rather conversationally, as if they had been friends for ages.

"He and I were discussing who should be fired this month," he replied, completely straight-faced.

Rikku gaped at him for a moment before she let out a surprisingly loud laugh. "Wow, Mr. Lynwood, you scared the heck outta me for a second there," she tittered. "I didn't know there was a sense of humour buried inside that head of yours!"

"I'm only 'Lynwood' to Seymour," he smiled, genuinely. "Call me Auron."