Wench Notes: Oh, the agony! Hang in there. -grins-

This story is officially longer than most novels. It is also nearly complete. Depending on how or if I combine remaining chapters, we're looking at maybe 4-8 more at most.

Update 03/17/2015

The next chapter is in the process of being written fro scratch. I was about to post a new one last week when I realized that a significant portion of the story was missing. I don't know where it went, but neither Sara nor I have a completed chapter. So I am currently writing it a paragraph at a time, between diapers, feedings, sick babies, sick hubby and sick me. It should be up no later than next week. Stay tuned.

I

Hyne was fucking with me.

I was allowed a few short hours of actual, genuine happiness, only to have it taken from me in a instant. A few hours of hope for something better on the horizon, gone in a blazing trail of black smoke and debris. I didn't want to believe it. There was no way she was gone. Fate couldn't be so cruel.

I sat on the floor below the window and I wanted to get up and hit something but my body had other plans. I couldn't breathe. I was dizzy; I felt sick. The world kept tilting as though I was drunk. Rinoa crouched beside me and she gently pushed my head between my knees, stroking my back until the dizziness passed.

"Don't give up hope," Rinoa said softly. "It's not over yet."

"Search and rescue team, report to command ASAP," Squall said into the comm system. "Trepe, report to command."

I heard him typing something into his laptop, then a soft curse.

"I've got nothing on her locator," Squall said.

"What the fuck does that mean?" I asked.

"There's no activity on her personnel locator," he said. "It's showing an instantaneous flatline as of sixteen minutes ago. No heartbeat. No movement. Nothing."

"What does that mean, Leonhart?" I asked again.

"It means it was either damaged, which doesn't mean she's alive, or she was killed instantly," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Seifer. Most likely, she didn't make it."

There was a tremor in his voice, and I looked up at him. There was so much sympathy in his face that grief and rage boiled up inside me like two writhing serpents. I refused to accept that. She wasn't gone. There was just no way she could be gone so quickly.

"No. No, no, no, no, no! Don't you tell me you're sorry! I don't want to hear that you don't think she made it!"

"What do you want to hear?" he asked. "You want me to lie to you?"

"Don't tell me she didn't make it," I growled. "Don't fucking say it. Tell me there's a chance. Tell me she might have gotten out at the last second, but damn it don't tell me she didn't fucking make it!"

Fear and rage and loss were ripping me to shreds. And the fact that he so easily accepted that she might have died pissed me off and I wanted to beat him senseless for it. Like it was no big deal. Like it didn't matter.

It fucking mattered. It mattered in a way that he should have understood. I wondered how he would react if it was Rinoa. Certainly, he wouldn't be this detached or indifferent. He would have lost his fucking mind, just like I was.

"Quistis will head up the search and rescue," he said to reassure me, "but Seifer...you have to prepare yourself for the possibility..."

I covered my ears and howled in rage. I didn't want to hear it. If Selphie was dead, then there was nothing left for me in this world worth caring about. She'd been the only really good thing in my life and the only thing I wanted or needed. Squall was standing there telling me to let go of the one thing I cared about most, and I didn't want to hear it. And it wasn't going to happen. Whether denial or intuition, I wasn't giving up on her that easily. No way in hell was I going to believe she was gone until I saw the truth for myself.

He crouched down beside me and put his hand on my shoulder. Furious with him, I slapped his hand away.

"I understand how you feel," he said.

I had no doubt that he did, but he'd had the benefit of more than three years to share with Rinoa. He knew what it was like to lay in the arms of the woman he loved every single night. He'd had his love returned through countless days and nights. Rinoa's death would devastate him, but he would at least have the memory of the the time they'd had to comfort him. If she died, he would know that their time together had not been wasted. Me? I would never know what it was like to be with Selphie long term. I would have to live the rest of my life with unquenched longing for her. I would never know if she needed me as much as I'd needed her. I would never know what it was like to fall asleep with her arms around me every night, to wake up next to her every morning, and I wanted these things more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life. I wanted to know what it was like to truly love someone else, and to be loved in return, and now that I'd had a taste of it, I wouldn't be satisfied with just a memory. I knew I could never be the man I wanted to be without her there beside me.

I wrenched away from him and got a precarious hold on myself, getting to my feet. I had to brace myself against the window sill for a moment because the world was still trying to to convince me I was out at sea.

"I'm going with them," I said.

"No," Squall said. "I get it, but I can't let you do that. Not in the shape you're in."

"Fuck that," I said, grabbing for my rifle. "I'm going."

"Squall, maybe you should let him," Rinoa said softly. "If it were me, you'd want to do the same."

She was right. If it were Rinoa, Squall wouldn't have waited for a search and rescue. He'd go on foot if he had to and he wouldn't waste a single second if there was even a slim chance she was still alive.

I felt like I was going to psychologically implode if I didn't get out of there. I didn't care if Squall wanted me to stay or not. I didn't care about the conflict going on all around me or the fact that I was supposed to lead another ambush at midnight. I didn't give a single fuck. Esthar could burn, for all I cared. Either I was going to go with search party or I was going to go off on my own because I would not rest until she was found and brought back, dead or alive.

"Seifer..." Squall said weakly.

Whatever he was going to say got caught in his throat and he could only nod at me, understanding and with grief of his own written across his face.

II

Alana watched the Shiva and Doomtrain racing through the sky from her room. The flipping and rolling and diving was impressive, but scary and she pressed a hand to her mouth as she saw the anti-aircraft missiles exploding all around them. Then, in horror watched as one of the craft exploded in a ball of fire and began to descend rapidly, trailing smoke and breaking into pieces as it fell back to earth. She wasn't sure which one it was and that almost didn't matter. Either way, someone important to her was either injured or dead.

She loved Selphie to death. The woman was fun, supportive, crazy and had become someone Alana looked up to because she listened and she cared about people. And while she'd only really known Zell for a few days, he'd become a kind of support system and a friend. In their off time, he'd talked to her, played cards with her and made her laugh when she was feeling like crap. He'd proved to be much nicer and much smarter than people gave him credit for, and she'd felt a little bad for making fun of him. To lose either would wound her even more.

She turned away from the window and headed down to the lobby, where Tad was talking in quiet tones with a command office runner.

"What just happened?" she asked.

"Selphie w-was shot d-down," Tad said.

"No," she whispered. "I hope she's okay."

"The other pilot didn't see her eject," the runner said. "They don't think she made it."

At that moment, Seifer emerged from the elevator, his face hard and his jaw clenched, followed by a weepy looking Lt. Commander Trepe and several others. He didn't look at her as he passed, but she could tell by his posture and the set of his shoulders he was going to find her. Her heart went out to him, knowing that he had feelings for the petite brunette. She'd watched that relationship evolve over many months, and it had been so obvious he cared for her. It made her want to cry for him, but she held it in only because she'd done enough crying lately.

"Milovich, please report to command," Leonhart's voice called over the PA. "Milovich to command immediately."

Tad gave her a curious look and Alana shrugged, feeling just as curious. She hadn't been paged by name to command before and she wondered what was up.

She took the elevator to the top floor and stepped into the command office, which was a blur of activity as techs looked at satellite feeds of the wreckage in the desert and Mrs. Leonhart flitted from one terminal to another.

"Sir," Alana said, saluting Squall as she approached. "Milovich reporting."

"How ready are you to lead a team of your own?" he asked without looking up from his computer screen.

"I feel confident that I can," she said.

"Good," he said. "I'm taking Almasy off duty for tonight and would like you to fill in."

"Sir?" she asked, surprised. "You want me to go in his place?"

"Only if you think you can handle it."

"I'm ready," she agreed. "Do you have mission details for me?"

He handed her a stack of images of a building in the shopping district, probably taken from the city's surveillance system. In most of them, it looked like the building was being used to house some of the G-Army troops. The last few were of a higher ranking G-Army soldier. There was a clear shot of his face, and she saw three stars on the lapel of his uniform, indicating he was a Colonel.

"This is your target," he said, pointing to the soldier. "Clear the building and capture him. We need him alive if possible, however if it isn't, take him down and bring his dog tags."

"Yes, sir," she said. "I'll do my best."

He dismissed her and she headed for the door, but stopped and turned back around.

"Sir? Is Commander Tilmitt going to be okay?"

He said nothing, and Alana was about to walk away, feeling like she'd crossed a line she wasn't supposed to when she realized it was because he wasn't able to answer her. His hand was pressed hard into his face like he was trying not to lose it.

Finally, he said, "She probably didn't make it."

Alana felt the chill of grief wash over her and she nodded, fighting back tears. One more loss she would have to wait for later to grieve.

III

Alana was waiting for Zell at the air station when he returned. His eyes were burning with unshed tears and he felt like he was going to lose it. He wasn't even sure how he'd managed to land without crashing the Doomtrain because he was so overwhelmed with a sense of loss for his friend that he couldn't think straight. Just by looking at Alana, he knew she'd already heard the news. He let her fold him into an embrace very much like the one he'd given her after her friend died and he closed his eyes, fighting back his tears.

She didn't say anything and he was glad for that. He couldn't deal with well intentioned words of sympathy right now.

He extracted himself from her embrace and she caught his hand in hers, surprising him. He glanced over at her and decided it was because she was upset too. He was okay with that. In fact, he welcomed the gesture as an offer of support.

They'd been spending a lot of their off time together, just talking and playing cards by the pool. He thought she was cute, if not a bit young for him, but it was easy to forget she was seventeen sometimes. He liked her confidence, too. She seemed like a girl who knew exactly what she wanted and would do what was needed to get it. There was something about it that he found rather attractive, along with her pretty emerald eyes and auburn hair. Not to mention, she was deadly. She might have been small, but she fought like Seifer, but with more grace than Seifer could ever hope to have.

Seifer would kill him dead if he saw them right now. Zell knew how protective of his kids Seifer was. But Zell didn't have any ill intentions. He just wanted and needed a friend, and they had bonded over their mutual grief over lost loved ones. Not that Zell had loved Zoe, but he'd had a crush on her since he was fifteen and had finally had the courage to ask her out. Now, it felt like a lost opportunity and years wasted pining for a girl he had never really known and would never have the chance to get to know.

And now Selphie was gone, too. They had lost plenty of people during the last Sorceress war, but none that hit this close to home or this close to the heart.

"I've gotta go debrief," he muttered to her as they entered the lobby of the hotel.

"Wanna get drunk and play cards when you're done?" she asked. "It'll take your mind off it."

"Drunk, yes. Cards, no," he said.

"I'll go swipe something from the bar," she said. "Meet you here later?"

"I don't think I can handle a lot of people around, to be honest with you," he said. "My room?"

She was taken aback by that.

"Forget it. I'll meet you here," he said.

"No, it's okay. I understand," she said. "Come find me when you're done. If you want company, that is."

Zell climbed into the elevator with a heavy heart and hit the button for the top floor. He hoped Seifer wasn't there. He didn't want to be blamed, and Seifer was certain to blame him for it. Zell could understand why he might. It was no secret he was crazy about Selphie. After that hug in the board room back at Garden, everyone had seen it.

Upstairs, Squall was waiting for him. Thankfully, Seifer wasn't there, but Rinoa was. She was standing by the window, crying quietly.

"What happened?" Squall asked.

There was no accusation in his voice. He just sounded sad, which Zell thought might be worse.

"We couldn't even get close to the place," Zell said, he said bitterly. "And they were waiting for us. We didn't even see that last missile."

"You're sure you didn't see her eject?" Squall asked.

"There was a lot of smoke and debris," Zell said. "It's possible I missed it, but I didn't see her."

"Go get some rest," Squall said. "More than likely, you'll have command of the fleet from this point on."

Zell nodded, but it wasn't something he wanted. He would have rather Selphie be okay than be her replacement.

Rinoa embraced him before he left, her tears falling onto his shoulder. He let her go because he knew if he hung on too long, he was going to start crying. He preferred to do that behind closed doors.

Downstairs, Alana was waiting with a bottle of Sylkis.

An hour later, he was flopped face down on the bed, feet toward the headboard, arms crossed over a pillow at the foot of the bed. Beside him, Alana doing the same and Zell had killed half the bottle by himself because she had a mission later. They didn't say much, and he was glad for no small talk, because he had nothing to say about it at all and he was too drunk to properly articulate his thoughts anyway.

Zell hadn't been this drunk in a long time. It didn't make him feel any better. In fact, it made his need to bawl his eyes out that much greater.

He let out a choked sob when he couldn't hold it in anymore and pressed his face into the pillow to hide his tears from Alana. He didn't want her to see him cry, but she knew anyway. Her hands, so capable of wielding a blade, were gentle as they stroked the back of his head. He was grateful for her attempt at comfort, but it only made him cry harder.

She scooted closer and dragged him into a tight embrace, letting him sob into her shoulder while her hands stroked his hair and back, just like Matron used to. It was just what he needed.

IV

The location where the Shiva crashed was remote and far enough away from the enemy camps that we met with little resistance leaving the city. Quistis sat silently beside me in the back of a vehicle not saying a word. Occasionally, she wiped away a tear while I alternately clenched my fists in grief and battled waves of wild, desperate hope.

We found the Shiva in pieces.

There was almost nothing recognizable left of the craft except one of the engines and the cracked and warped plexiglass top of the cockpit. We dug through the larger piles of debris, but there was no evidence of her. In my mind, that meant she must have ejected, even though the rational part of me knew we might find her further out in the debris field. For two hours, we moved further and further out, finding nothing but pieces of twisted metal and bits of charred things that couldn't be identified. But I still had hope, and the longer we went without finding her, the more that hope grew.

When Quistis found her helmet nearly two miles from the crash site, I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. I was afraid to look at it.

"No scorch marks," Quistis said, handing it to me. "Only a small amount of blood."

I examined it, taking note of the deep scuff marks on the top and the cracked visor. I looked inside and saw a single strand of her hair, but there was nothing else. No blood, no evidence it had been burned. Save the single smear of blood on the back of the helmet, there was nothing to indicate an injury. I held onto it like a talisman while we continued looking.

We were losing daylight fast, and though we had nighttime equipment, we didn't want to alert anyone we were out there by waving around a bunch of lights. Even I had to agree that it wasn't a good idea, so we packed it in and headed back to the city as I prayed to Hyne that she was out there somewhere, laying low until we found her.

V

While waiting for an update from search and rescue, Squall received an e-mail from an unknown source, user name My Legacy. He hesitated before clicking on it. It had an attachment and no subject. Most communication that came through their network were listed by first and last name and always had some kind of subject. He clicked the message and found it contained a sort, thirty second video. He hit play and watched a shaky camera pan over the living room of the presidential palace. The picture quality was dark and grainy, but there was enough light for him to tell this was his father's personal living quarters. He could just make out a large framed photo of Squall and Rinoa's wedding on the wall. The camera lingered on this photo long enough for Squall to get the point. Deling knew.

The camera zoomed in on Ellone, who sat bound and gagged on the floor, tears streaking her cheeks. Her lip was bloody, her hair a mess. Then, it panned over to show Laguna, bound in a similar manner. He was unconscious and his face was a mess of bruises and blood. It looked like he was in really bad shape. A pair of legs entered the frame and delivered a hard kick to Laguna's side. Laguna grunted through the gag, but barely stirred.

Then, the video ended without explanation. Squall clicked back to the e-mail to double check that the was no text or additional attachments. There were no demands made, no threats, just the video.

He sat back and realized his left hand was clenched hard against his thigh. Anger started a slow burn through his veins and he took a deep breath to quell it. Laguna may have been an absentee parent most of his life, but he was still Squall's father, the only living blood relative he had. Their relationship may have been strained and uncomfortable, but that was his father.

Squall got up and paced the workspace, running his hands through his hair, wracking his brain trying to figure out what to do. This whole mess was far more complicated than anyone had anticipated. Though they were making significant gains, they'd also suffered losses. Far more than usual, and almost never a high ranking SeeD like Selphie. Of course, they'd also never dealt with a situation like this, nor a competent G-army.

He knew the video was meant to provoke him into action. Deling wanted him to go running for the palace full tilt to rescue Laguna and Elle. Every instinct in him wanted to do just that, to throw his every resource at the palace gates and go in vendetta style and get his father and Ellone to safety. Logic told him that would be the dumbest thing he could do right now, but it didn't stop him from wanting to.

He would have to plan this carefully. He would have to put aside his grief over Selphie and his desire to protect his family to finish this. He could not let emotion dictate how he handled this because in this case, it would end badly. He had to think this through.

He sat down at his laptop and called up video chat. He connected with the Galbadia Garden command office and asked to speak with Martine.

"Leonhart," Martine greeted. "I was just about to page you. President Caraway has requested a private chat with you."

"Caraway can wait," Squall said. "I wanted to request a couple sniper teams and as many infantry as you can spare. We have confirmation that Deling is holding Loire and his daughter hostage."

"I've got twenty snipers you can have, but I don't have much in the way of infantry to send," Martine said. "Securing Deling City was much harder than we anticipated."

"We're facing the same situation here," Squall said. "We lost our air fleet commander and Esthar's Lt. Commander of infantry today and suffered heavy losses securing the industrial sector."

"I'll send whatever resources I have, Leonhart," Martine said. "Do you have a plan?"

"At the moment, no. I'm waiting for Almasy and Trepe to return so we can puzzle this out."

"Early reports say Almasy has done well as your second," Martine said. "Astonishingly so."

"He's been invaluable," Squall said flatly, wondering where this was going. Martine had no love for Seifer, being that he'd evicted Martine from command of G-Garden during the war.

"There's a reporter from World News here who would like to embed in your headquarters," Martine said. "Normally, I wouldn't mention it, but he's a former SeeD and his reports could shed a positive light on our organization. I'll send him along with your requested resources."

"I don't have time for interviews," Squall said shortly. "Nor time to babysit."

"You misunderstand me," Martine said. "He'll be coming regardless, to document the situation there in Esthar. Your cooperation is appreciated, but not required."

The hell?

"How much did World News pay you?" Squall asked.

"It was a substantial contract," Martine admitted. "I assure you, he won't be in your way."

Squall was annoyed, but this was the least of his problems. If some reporter wanted to get himself killed, Squall had no interest in stopping him.

"I'll have a room prepared for him," Squall said indifferently. "He does understand that he won't be allowed to interview SeeDs, correct?"

"He's just there to observe and report. Nothing more."

"Fine," Squall said. "What does Caraway want?"

"He didn't say. If you give me a moment, I can bring him in."

Squall drummed his fingers against the desk while he waited, hearing chatter on the radio. It didn't sound like anything he needed to worry about, just standard check in from patrol. No word back from search and rescue, though. The longer they found nothing, the less he believed they would. He'd had hope, however slim, that Selphie was out there and alive, but all signs indicated she wasn't.

"Commander Leonhart," Caraway said, taking his attention away from his thoughts. "I'd like to speak to my daughter."

"Your daughter died when she was five, remember?" Squall said sharply.

He hadn't meant to be snarky about it, but he didn't have the patience for Caraway's assumption that Rinoa would be interested in speaking to him.

Caraway stared at him, his hard face bruised and his eyes full of loathing.

"I am alone, Leonhart," Caraway said. "You can drop the charade."

Squall wanted to snap back at him, but he wasn't interested in getting into an argument with his father in law over the ridiculousness of his past choices.

"She's busy," Squall said. "I'll pass along a message if you like. Thought I doubt she'll be interested in hearing it."

"It might be in her best interest if she was held here at G-Garden for the time being," Caraway said. "She is the primary target, after all."

That confirmed Squall had suspected. He debated whether this was a good idea or not. On one hand, knowing she was safe and far away from the chaos would give him peace of mind. However, having her with him would give him more. And she would flat out refuse to go, especially if she knew her father had suggested it.

"Deling is interested only in acquiring her," Caraway said. "By any means necessary."

"I know that," Squall snapped. "But she stays here. With me."

"That is a dangerous choice, young man. Once again, you show your inexperience by choosing your personal feelings over logic."

Caraway might have been right about that, but it didn't change anything.

"That's her choice, Caraway. She knows the risk and has chosen to stay and fight," Squall said. "You of all people should know when Rinoa believes in something, she sticks with it. I can't change her mind any more than you can. And unlike you, I respect her for it, even if I don't always agree. Was there something else?"

Caraway actually looked humbled.

"I respect my daughter, Leonhart."

"So much that you disowned her," Squall said. "Is there anything else?"

"No."

"Fine. I'll send any necessary communication through Martine. Have a good night."

"Leonhart-" Caraway said as Squall reached for the button to end the call.

Squall paused.

"I love my daughter, and I care very much about her, even if it doesn't seem like it," he said. "I didn't disown her to protect myself, I did it to protect her. For the very reason you're fighting a war right now."

Squall was stunned and surprised by this statement. It hadn't occurred to him that the harsh distance Caraway had enforced on Rinoa might be to shield her from becoming a target. And that forced him to rethink his opinion of Caraway.

"You should have told her that in the beginning," Squall said. "If what you say is true."

"Good night, Commander."

VI

Alana crept slowly through the ground floor building, avoiding the debris and rubble and broken glass on the floor. Behind her, Jerry and Tad followed, each moving as silently through the darkness as she was. From somewhere upstairs, she could hear voices, talking softly to one another. Her heart was in her throat as she pressed her back against the wall by the stairs, mentally going over all the things she'd been taught about this. A straight assassination would have been an easier task for her first solo foray into leadership, but it wasn't like she got to choose her missions.

She had something to prove. To everyone who had ever laughed at her, and to everyone that had ever doubted she could be good at this. She had give a good showing, to make Almasy proud, and she had to prove to Leonhart that she could do this on her own.

She signaled to Jerry and Tad to wait and she pressed her back against the banister of the stairwell and a step at a time ascended the stairs, gunblade at the ready. At the top, she dropped into a crouch and eased around the corner, peering up the next flight. At the top, one guard leaned against the wall, loosely clutching an Galbadian M4 rifle, chatting quietly with a second guard posted up in what looked like a dining chair. Alana bit her lip and considered her options.

Go in guns blazing and alert the rest? Distract them somehow?

She picked up a chunk of broken brick and hurled it against the wall in front of her and then leaned back against the railing, waiting for one or both to come investigate. She heard footsteps, closed her eyes for a second and the instant the guard came into view, she took him out, quick and silent, snapping his neck under her hands. His grunt had alerted the second guard, and she dispatched him in the same manner, quick and efficient as she'd been trained. She signaled to the shadows at the bottom of the stairs and Jerry and Tad joined her.

"Geez, Milovich," Jerry breathed. "That was brutal."

"Quiet," she said. "Come on."

They ascended the stairs and at the top, cautiously opened the door. All was quiet on the floor, and there didn't look to be anyone out and about. More than likely, most of them were asleep, which would make this easier, so long as they stayed quiet enough not to alert anyone. Most of the doors were closed and appeared to be dark, but one at the end of the hallway was open, light spilling out into the hall and she saw shadows crossing it from time to time. The sound of a intense conversation reached her ears, though she couldn't make out the words being spoken. On silent feet, she crept down the hall, taking care to stay close to the wall.

A glance inside the room revealed that she had found her target. He was sitting at a long table, a bottle of whiskey in front of him and he was lamenting SeeD for thwarting them every step of the way to two lower ranking soldiers. That made her smile. He was about to get another taste of it.

Again was the question of how to go about this. She decided to take a risk and pulled a stun grenade from her pocket. It wouldn't kill anyone, and it would make a lot of noise, but it would sufficiently incapacitate them long enough for her to get a hold of him. She signaled to her team to take cover and they both crouched on the floor behind her, covering their faces.

She pulled the pin and tossed it, then dropped to the floor, shielding her eyes and face as a blast of plastic pellets sprayed out into the hall. There were screams from inside, where the three men had taken the worst of the damage.

"Cover the hall," she told Tad and Jerry. "I'll be as quick as I can."

She ducked into the room and quickly dispatched the two lower officers and slammed the door behind her and locked it. Before the Colonel could recover, she was on him, latching a pair of handcuffs around his wrists behind his back and she hit him with a tranquilizer so he would stop screaming.

"You should put that big sword down, little girl," he murmured. "Before you get hurt."

"This little girl just took your ass down, so you should probably shut your mouth, old man," she said, "unless you'd like to find out all the neat things I can do with this big sword of mine."

"Fucking SeeDs," he muttered, his eyelids fluttering against the drug.

Out in the hall, she heard the sounds of Tad and Jerry engaged in battle. She used a second set of handcuffs taken from one of the soldiers on the floor and locked him to the metal radiator on the wall. She joined them and battled through a dozen sleepy, confused G-army soldiers with guns. She felt a bullet tear through her left calf as she fought. The pain was blinding and brought tears to her eyes, but she kept fighting until every last one of them was eliminated.

"Clear the floor," she told the boys. "I'll call headquarters."

Back in the room with the Colonel, she radioed command.

"Command this is Milovich. Come back," she said into her radio.

"Command. This is Leonhart. What's your status?"

"Requesting transport and a medic. Target has been detained. Mission successful."

In spite of the shrieking pain in her calf, it felt damned good to say that.

"Copy. Transport and medic en route. Good job, Milovich."

"Suck on that, haters," she thought. "Mikael, this one's for you."

VII

Numb and tired, I returned to the command center, clutching Selphie's helmet. Squall stared at it quietly and sat down heavily in his chair as though seeing it knocked him off his feet. I could relate. Finding it had given me hope, but that hope was quickly starting to wane. We hadn't found anything else, but I hoped that we'd find something tomorrow. Preferably, Selphie alive.

He briefed me on what I'd missed, but I was too emotionally and physically exhausted to throw out ideas as I knew he'd been hoping I would. My mind was not on the war but on the irritating and annoyingly cute girl who owned my heart. Eventually, I went to bed and lay awake half the night, unable to sleep because she wasn't there.

I woke up late and reported to the command center with the intention of going back out to look for her. Search and rescue had already left by the time I got there. I had half a mind to find a vehicle and take off after them, but Squall had other plans for me. I almost told him to fuck off, but decided maybe the best thing for me right now was to go out and fight.

I don't really remember going to the shopping district, nor do I remember how many kills I made that day. It didn't really matter. The only thing I really remember was the intense rage that was fueled by grief over having to face losing Selphie. At some point, I'd cast off my rifle and had gone vigilante with my gunblade, cutting through enemy after enemy like a man possessed. Honestly, maybe what I was looking for was not victory or even an outlet for my pain, but my own death. Some part of me was hoping that someone would kill me so that I wouldn't have to face reality.

Obviously, I didn't find what I was looking for. When I returned to the base at the hotel, I was covered in enemy blood and both physically and emotionally drained. While fighting like a savage had quelled the rage in me, it hadn't erased the horrible, crushing fear, worry and grief inside me.

Rinoa spied me as I mounted the stairs to go up to my room and she stopped me.

"Hyne, Seifer, are you hurt?" she asked.

"Nope," I said, though I wished to Hyne I was. Physical pain I could make sense of, but not this other intangible and internal pain.

"You look like you just survived a slasher flick."

"I did," I said. "I played the slasher."

She stared at me and sat down on the step.

"Any word?" I asked. "Did rescue find anything?"

She shook her head and she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

"Nothing," she said. "No chute, no body. Quistis thinks maybe..."

My mind recoiled against what she didn't say out loud. It implied my worst fear, that there was nothing left to find.

I wanted hit something, but I didn't have the energy. Instead, I slid down the wall and sat on the step next her. I buried my face in my hands, biting back angry tears. Selphie couldn't be dead. I didn't feel her absence from the world, which meant she couldn't be gone. Call it denial, but I wasn't ready to give up hope, no matter how grim the situation. Until I had proof, I refused to believe it.

"Tell me they're still looking."

"Seifer," she said, making no attempt to hide the tears in her own voice. "I'm sorry..."

"Sorry. What does that mean," I asked, looking up at her.

"Squall had to call off the search this afternoon," Rinoa said. "There was a surprise attack on the air station, and he needed the manpower."

"What?"

"It couldn't be helped," she said, and tears coursed down her face again. "He didn't want to give up on her, believe me, but he didn't have a choice. And we both know we can't stop in the middle of a war to find one person, no matter how much they mean to us."

"You gave up on her too, didn't you!" I growled, getting to my feet. "You're her best friend, Rinoa."

"No, I haven't," Rinoa insisted. "How dare you say that to me! I'm upset and worried and scared, and I hope to Hyne that she's all right, but I can't let myself go to pieces right now because if I do, I fail all the other people who need me too. Same goes for you, Seifer. There are a lot of people counting on you, including Squall, and you just have to hope for the best and do your job, and whatever happens, we'll deal with it once this whole mess is over."

I thought about Selphie hiding out somewhere in the desert, maybe injured and praying to Hyne that someone would come find her. But no one would, because no one was looking. She was on her own. My greatest fear was that she'd been taken as a POW, for I knew all too well the methods Galbadia used to pry information out of their hostages, and believe me when I say, they weren't known for being humane. Death was a much kinder option.

I knew better than to take off and go look myself. Squall would have me detained, or, if I managed to escape the hotel undetected, I'd probably end up either captured or dead. I couldn't take that chance, especially if she was still alive.

"If it were you, Squall would never stop looking. No matter what."

Rinoa burst into tears and reached out to hug me, but I pulled away. I couldn't handle her grief too. Selphie was her best friend, and more than once she'd professed to love her like the sister she'd never had. I knew Rinoa had lost her too, and she deserved to be comforted, but I couldn't be the one to give her that. Not when the news had wrecked me.

I got to my feet, made a bee-line for the hotel bar and swiped a bottle of whiskey from behind the counter. People were staring at me, but I didn't care. I uncapped the bottle and took a long swallow, relishing the way it burned on the way down. Then, I went up to the room I'd claimed for my own and got in the shower and let the hot water scald my skin. I didn't feel any of it.

For a long time, I sat in the dark, drinking and trying not to think about Selphie. Her helmet sat on the dresser, the stupid glittery stickers on the side shimmering in the weak light coming through the curtains. I could still feel her out there somewhere. I was sure of it. But if she was dead, I wondered if she'd thought of me in those final moments. I prayed she had because I wanted her to know she was loved. I wondered if she'd had any regrets and I hoped she didn't.

VIII

I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover I'd ever had in my life and a stiff neck from sleeping in the chair. I didn't want to get up and face the day, but I didn't know what else to do. I knew I couldn't handle sitting in my room all day where I'd think myself into a stupor and probably end up drunk again. To be honest, getting trashed again was tempting. While it had made me more depressed than I already was, it had taken the edge off the pain.

In the bathroom, I splashed my face with cold water and put on a clean uniform. Then, I went downstairs where I found Squall bent over a map of the city, Rinoa at his side. They both looked up when I entered the room and eyed me with grim faced concern. I could tell from the way they looked at me that nothing had changed. It made me want to run screaming from the room.

"You're relieved of your duties today," Squall said.

"No," I said. "We're not having this conversation."

"Do you know how many enemy soldiers you killed yesterday?" he asked, not looking up from the map.

"I don't care."

"Forty six," he said, ignoring me.

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.

"Not usually, but I heard you were...not yourself," Squall said carefully. He still wasn't looking at me, which pissed me off. "Maybe you should take it easy for today and come back when your head's clearer."

I cleared the table with one sweep of my arm, which got his attention. He gave me a calm, level stare and I glared back at him.

"Right now, work is the only thing keeping me from jumping off the fucking roof," I growled. "My head isn't going to be any clearer if I take the damned day off, so you find something for me to do that involves action or I'll find it on my own."

Rinoa stood there chewing on her lip and giving me a respectful, but frightened look.

Squall sighed and then nodded.

"Got a recon team heading for the city center in about an hour. You can tag along if you promise me you can keep it together."

"Can't promise that," I said.

"Come on, Seifer," he said. "You know I can't let you go out on a killing spree when we're doing recon. That's not how it works."

"Then fuck recon. I want action."

"No. There's nothing going on today besides recon," Squall said firmly. "Take it or leave it."

I let out a frustrated, anguished growl.

"Seifer, I made you my assistant commander because I thought you could handle it," Squall said. "And I understand how you feel right now, but you're still second in charge here and I need you to pull it together long enough for us to finish this. I know you're worried, but now's not the time to fall apart. Selphie's a fighter. If she's still alive, then she's probably hiding out until she can safely make it back. Until we know for sure, fight now and grieve later."

I stomped to the window and looked out at ruined city. I wondered what the point of all this was if Selphie wasn't going to be there in the end. If she was dead, then there was no more reason for me to care.

The rational side of me knew that Squall was right. Fight now, grieve later. How many times had I told my students that war took nothing personal, and neither should they. I'd told Tad and Jerry the same thing after Mikael died. Death was an inevitable part of war. Expect it and move on. War doesn't know that the guy on your left is your best friend, and it doesn't care. I'd preached these things in my classes and expected my students to take it to heart, but when it came down to it, I didn't have it in me to practice what I preached.

"And if I can't trust you to put it aside for now, then I'm going to have to ask you to step down," Squall said. "I don't want to do that, so don't make me."

I clenched my fists and hung my head, unsure of what I was supposed to do. It was easy to say, fight now, grieve later, but much harder to put into practice. Not when I craved her company and her smile so badly I felt like half of me had been taken away.

"Take today off," Squall said. "Get it out of your system, then come find me tomorrow."

"I don't know if I'll be any better off tomorrow," I said.

"Then we'll deal with it," Squall said. "Just chill and don't get into any trouble. Got it?"

"No promises man," I said.

"I'm serious," Squall said. "Don't fuck this up for yourself. If we make it through this, the world is going to see that Seifer Almasy isn't such a bastard after all, but only if you can keep yourself from screwing this up. So go do whatever it is you need to do. Get drunk, cry, sleep, whatever, I don't care. I need you sane, so get your shit together and come back tomorrow."

He was right. I had a shot at changing my fate here. But then, if it had been Rinoa and not Selphie, would he be singing the same tune. I somehow doubted it. He would fall apart. I'd seen the look on his face back in the Salt Lake when she'd been nicked by the bullet. I knew he'd be just as wrecked as I was.

And there was still the possibility that Selphie was alive somewhere, maybe injured, but alive and hiding out until she could safely return home. It was a slim possibility, but until they found her dead, I wasn't ready to give up on her.

Beisdes all this, my gut was telling me that she wasn't dead. Maybe it was denial. Maybe instinct. Maybe something more complex. All I knew was that I could still feel her presence in the world. If she'd died, I know I would have felt it deep down inside. I didn't know how I knew, I just did.

"Fine," I muttered. "I'll take the fucking day off."

IX

I went up to the roof with another pilfered bottle of alcohol and drank myself into a stupor. The more I drank, the more convinced I became that she had to be alive. Then, after a while, I became convinced that she was gone forever, and I sat there thinking about the bleak future that lay ahead of me. I couldn't stand the idea that I'd never make her laugh again, or that I'd never see her smile, never get to hold her again. She would never call me a stupid butthead again, or hit me or look at me with that twinkle of mischief in her eyes. I would have given anything to have her yell at me again, or call me an idiot or even slap me. I didn't care, so long as she was still breathing.

As the sun set over Esthar, I got up and went to the edge of the roof, climbed up on the narrow ledge and stood there, looking down at the barricaded street below. A team was coming in and they moved as if they hadn't slept in weeks. In the distance, I could hear the pop of gunfire.

All around me, people were dying. That was the ugly truth about war. Glory didn't happen on the battle field. There wasn't anything glorious about killing, or dying or being wounded. There was nothing glorious about crawling through the rubble of what was once a prosperous city. That was the mistake I made back when I first aligned with Ultimecia. I had this romantic notion about war, and honor and glory. I soon learned that there's nothing honorable, or glorious, or romantic about it. It's ugly, and hard and brutal. It's dirty, exhausting and every day brings another tragedy.

As I stood there looking down, I felt like jumping. I'd never hurt so badly in my life. No physical pain I'd endured during my lifetime even came close.

I held my arms out, bottle still in hand and willed for the courage to let myself fall. It would be a quick way to go. Five seconds of free fall and then bam, done.

But it was a cowardly way to go out. I couldn't make myself do it. There was still a possibility that she was alive. Slim, but it was a possibility.

I was still standing on the ledge when Raijin and Fujin appeared.

"Yo, what are you doing man?" Raijin asked, sounding scared.

"Taking in the view," I slurred.

I looked over my shoulder at them, grinning, and lost my balance. Next thing I knew, I was laying on my stomach, doing a face plant in the gravel and tar of the rooftop. Hands pulled me up and guided me over to the wall of the utility room and I slid down it, still clutching my bottle. I started laughing or crying or both, and leaned my head into my knees.

"We miss her too," Fujin said with more tenderness than I ever thought she was capable of. Her arms went around me and I felt her lean her head against my shoulder. Had I not been so screwed up it might have freaked me out.

I must have bawled like a baby for about ten minutes. Raijin bawled right along with me, loud and howling like he'd lost his best friend. When I came out of it, my head felt clear, despite the amount of alcohol I'd ingested in the last few hours. The way I saw it, I had two choices. I could either wallow like a pathetic loser and jump off the roof, or I could get up and get on with it. There was no telling what the next few days would bring, and with any luck, they'd bring an end to all this, Selphie would come back, and things would be fine. I might also die out there in battle, which if that was the case, so be it.

"CRYBABY," Fujin said as she let me go.

Somewhere far out to the west, there was a bright flash of light followed by a massive ball of fire. It was far away, but I heard the blast a second later, like thunder following a lightning strike. I got to my feet and walked to the edge of the roof, Raijin and Fujin following behind, watching as the flames expanded and mushroomed like a nuclear blast. Whatever it was, the explosion was huge. The first blast was quickly followed by multiple smaller ones as things inside the fire ignited and exploded. Streaks of flame shot out of the center, exploding in the sky like fireworks and I could her the air around me rumbling with each flash of fire.

"Yo, is that the munitions depot?" Rajin asked.

It had to be. None of the smaller camps throughout the desert would have gone off like a giant bomb as far as I could remember. I was also sure that the second attempt assault on the depot wasn't scheduled until tomorrow afternoon, so I wasn't sure what I was seeing or why.

Irrational though it was, my heart started pounding and I raced down the steps and into the command office, where Squall was at the window watching the blaze through a pair of binoculars.

"Is that the munitions depot?" I asked.

"Looks like it," he said.

"Was there a strike I didn't know about?"

"No."

Even in the darkness, through the binoculars I could see the damage would be absolute. By the time it burned itself out, there would be nothing left of it.

I thought of Selphie and her love of explosions and wondered if she was behind it. It was irrational and unlikely, but at the same time, I knew if she got the chance to blow the place apart, she would do it, cackling maniacally as she lit the match. I didn't want to get my hopes up too much, but at the same time there was a part of me that believed. I believed this was her way of letting us know she was still alive and still fighting.

"Booyaka," I heard myself mutter.

"What?" Squall asked, startled.

"You heard me."

"Seifer, we don't know it was her," he said. "Could be that some idiot dropped a cigarette butt too close to a crate of ammo and the whole thing went up."

"Could be," I agreed. "But it isn't. This has Selphie written all over it."

I was sure of it.

"I really want to believe that," Squall said quietly. "But a blast that big..."

I got what he was saying. Even if she had managed to blow it up, there was a really good chance she'd taken herself out in the process. I didn't want to think about that.

I walked away from the window and walked over to a terminal where a tech was monitoring street level surveillance near the palace.

"Pull up the satellite feed of the munitions depot," I said.

He pulled it up, but there wasn't much to see. The the darkness and smoke from the fire made it hard to make anything out. I had him switch over to the thermal images, which showed an impossibly hot core and heat radiating out from it for a quarter mile.

"Zoom out," I said.

I scanned the image, looking for bright spots around the perimeter, hoping to see a human heat signature.

"What are you doing?" Squall asked.

I didn't answer him and leaned in close to the screen, staring at a tiny speck of reddish orange to the east of the camp. I wasn't sure what it was, but it gave me more hope than was reasonable.

"Zoom in right there," I said pointing to the speck.

On screen, the image came clearer, but I still wasn't sure what I was looking at. It looked like an oval, but it had something close to a human heat signature. When it began to move, I made out an arm and a head then it was a bright oval again. I watched with clenched fists, hoping for some sign that it was Selphie and not a random survivor, but identification was impossible.

Behind me, Squall was silent but he put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a hard squeeze.

"I know how much you want this to be her," Squall said. "But there's a good chance it's not."

"It's her," I said softly, watching the figure start to move to the west, apparently on foot.

"You can't know that."

"Everything in me tells me she's not gone yet," I said, "so don't tell me to give up hope."

"I really hope you're right," he said. "I really do."

X

Selphie's mouth was dry. She had finished off the last of her water an hour ago, and she desperately wanted and needed more.

She'd been hiding out since the Shiva crashed, resting in the shade of rock formations and narrow crevasses in the cliffs during the day, and moving only at night, when it was cooler. Trouble was, she'd cast off everything but her weapons and survival supplies, leaving her only wearing her tank top and BDU pants, which she'd chopped off above the knees with her survival knife because of the heat, and now she realized her mistake. She had no compass to follow because she'd left it in her jacket, and had no clue how to get back to Esthar. Her only guide was the setting sun, but once it was gone, it was easy to get turned around. Everything looked the same, and it was hard to tell if she'd already passed the same cactus twice or if it was just her imagination.

Besides having no guide back to the city, she was pretty sure they thought she was dead, which meant no one was looking for her. Along with her jacket, she'd cast off the personnel monitor, which fed her vitals back to headquarters. She'd discarded it without thinking about it because it was uncomfortable and irritating in the heat of the desert. Now, she wished she hadn't. No one would believe she'd survived the crash.

Actually, she couldn't believe it either.

She hadn't seen the ground to air missile coming her way until it was too late. She felt it hit the underbelly of the craft and she'd immediately hit the eject button, but it had failed. As smoke filled the cockpit, she had hit the emergency release button on the dome and unbelted herself. The craft was spiraling downwards too fast, making her so dizzy, she almost couldn't get her bearings. Death was not an option for her, however and she quickly cast shell and then float on herself and jumped. Even with those magics in place, she'd hit the ground hard enough to knock her out. She'd busted her lip on a rock and had probably broken a few ribs and dozens of scrapes, but she was alive. Half a mile away, what remained of the Shiva burned.

As the sun disappeared below the horizon, Selphie got to her feet and wiped her hand across her sandblasted face, wishing there was some way to get a message to them. She hadn't seen any sign of life for most of the day, which was a bad thing. It meant she was further away than she thought.

Were they mourning her back at Headquarters, or had they put it into the back of their minds as they'd been trained to do? And Seifer. What about him? Was he missing her as much as she missed him? He was probably going crazy.

She hoped he was hanging in there. She prayed he hadn't given up on her. She hoped he wasn't freaking out, though if she knew him, he was either a total basket case, or working too hard to keep from worrying. Either was bad. If he was mourning her, he might do something stupid and get himself killed. If he was working too hard, then he would probably wear himself out and end up getting killed because he was too tired to think straight. Selphie hoped Squall and the others were able to keep him in check long enough for her to get back.

She headed east, away from the dying daylight and hoped that she was going the right way. As long as she kept heading in the same direction, she could find her way, even if she didn't find the city itself. All she had to do was keep going east until she reached the coast. From there, she'd be able to figure out if she needed to turn north or south, depending on the landscape. Then she'd walk till she made the salt flats and find her way from there. Problem was, she didn't know if she had a day's worth of travel ahead of her, or three days.

For more than an hour, she trudged through the open desert, trying not to think about the terrible thirst or her dry mouth. The longer she walked, the thirstier she got. She knew if she didn't find a water source soon, she might not live another day. She would have to find something, and soon.

An hour later, she spied lights ahead. She used the terrain as cover, edging from rock to rock as she came closer to the source of the dim glow. She drew closer and closer, focused and determined to stay out of sight.

It was the munitions depot.

She licked her lips and wondered if it was possible to sneak in and steal some water. Surely they had some. Should she take the risk of getting caught? Should she risk being killed?

Yes. Then answer to that was yes. Her thirst was so great, she didn't have another option. She would die without it anyway, so it was absolutely worth whatever risk she was taking.

Cautiously, she crept toward the camp, taking great care not to make a sound as she came closer. There were trucks parked in front of her, end to end and she could see light spilling out beneath them. She crab walked on silent feet toward the nearest truck and pressed herself back against it's massive tire. She secured her rifle, slinging it over her back and she tucked the stock into the back of her pants to prevent it from clicking against her shoulder.

She peered around the tire to see what she was working with. By the gate was a lone soldier, looking bored as he paced slowly back and forth in front of it, his eyes on the desert beyond. There was another in a camp chair but he appeared to be asleep. In the distance, she saw a small group of them gathered around a card table lit by a small lantern. It appeared they were playing Triad and sharing a bottle of something that was probably alcohol.

She quietly moved on to the next truck, repeating the same process of observation. There was a tent next to this one, with the flap open wide and inside she saw stacks of crates and supplies.

And, stacks of cases of bottled water.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes!

Her body screamed for water, and she had to resist the urge to sprint towards it and stuff her pockets with it. Slowly, and very quietly, she crept around the back of the truck and peered around the bumper. There was nobody there. She moved towards the tent and took note of an open box marked "Grenades."

She put four in her pocket, just in case and then moved on, slipping inside the tent unnoticed. On a table, she found a backpack containing some beat up and dog eared issues of "The Girl Next Door" and she dumped them on the ground. She used her knife to cut open the cases of water and started filling the backpack with bottles, resisting the temptation to open one now and drink all of it. There were also packaged snacks and a crate of apples. She grabbed handfuls of these, wincing as the plastic wrappers on the food crinkled. To her ears, it was as loud as a gun shot, but probably didn't carry more than a few feet.

Breathing hard and desperate for a drink, she decided to cut and run before she was discovered.

A movement to her right alerted her to the fact that she wasn't alone. Quickly, she whipped out her rifle and took aim on a young soldier with wide eyes, staring down at her grubby, battered appearance.

"Not a word," she said softly. "Or I'll blow your kneecaps off."

His hand reached for the pistol at his side, and Selphie sprang up from her crouch and slammed the butt of her rifle against his jaw. He dropped like a stone, but the sound of his cry of pain alerted the others.

Shit.

Selphie decided caution was no longer an option, as her cover was blown and she sprinted back toward the trucks and ducked between two of them as an alarm began to sound. She considered jumping in a vehicle and hauling ass out of there, but she was outnumbered and there more trucks and they could easily follow. They could also hunt her down on foot in those trucks, surround her and kill her.

There was only one option. She darted back toward the desert, pulling a grenade from her pocket. She pulled the pin, lobbed it over the top of the truck.

"Booyaka!" she bellowed.

Then she ran like hell towards the nearest set of boulders, praying she had time before the place blew all to hell.