

~**~

Few Words

A Bookworms and Booya Book

© 2003 By Nona Mae King

Published by Mintfield Books

Inspired by the characters Fujin and Seifer Almasy,

and other characters from

Final Fantasy VIII © SquareEnix

Cover design by Nona Mae King

Discover other titles by Nona Mae King:

Fantasy:

To Save a Soul

Romance:

My Fair Princess

Searching for Sara

Fan-Fiction:

Bookworms and Booya (series)

Few Words

The Reluctant Knight

In Theory

A Rose by Any Other Name

Terra (series)

Ace of Diamonds

Digital Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the site and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

~**~
**Glossary of** Characters **:**

 Fujin 'Ahndra' Kelley\-- a young woman with pale skin, short silver hair and an eye patch. She was a member of Seifer's Disciplinary Committee and is now part of Garden's Security Network. Fujin prefers to speak in terse sentences, often with only a single word.

 Seifer Almasy\--Head of Network Security and long-time rival of Squall. He is hard on his team and demands nothing but the best. The head of the Disciplinary Committee before the second Sorceress War. He is often seen as a bully rather than a true law enforcer.

Marshal Beita\--(property of Nona Mae King) a calm individual who thinks before acting, generally only behaving irrationally when protecting those he cares about. He has a tendency of using sarcastic humor to alleviate tension. He witnessed his younger sister's rape and murder.

 Zell Dincht\--an impulsive martial artist who is loyal to his friends. He also has a passion for hot dogs, a recurring gag of the game being they are always sold out by the time he reaches the cafeteria. He grew up at the same orphanage as Selphie, Irvine, Quistis, Squall and Seifer, who gave him the nickname "chicken-wuss". Zell was adopted by "Ma Dincht" from the city of Balamb.

 Sally Regal (the Library Girl)\-- a timid individual who has a knack for solving puzzles and a fierce loyalty to Zell Dincht. She was originally enrolled at Garden by her parents to help her with her extreme shyness and lack of social aptitude.

 Quistis Trepe\--Head of Instruction at Balamb Garden. She grew up at the same orphanage as Zell, Squall, Seifer, Selphie and Irvine. She was adopted at a young age, though never grew close to her adoptive family.

 Selphie Tilmitt\--an instructor at Balamb Garden who originally transferred from the now destroyed Trabia Garden. She is active and energetic, although slightly clumsy. She participates in many extracurricular activities, such as planning the Garden Festival and running the school's website.

 Squall Leonhart\--Commander of the Garden Network. He rarely speaks and is known as a lone wolf who always focuses on duty. He grew up at the same orphanage as Quistis, Zell, Seifer, Selphie, and Irvine, though he was never adopted.

 Rinoa Heartilly\--the daughter of General Caraway and singer/pianist Julia Heartilly. She is a member of the Forest Owls, a resistance faction seeking to liberate the small nation of Timber from Galbadian occupation. Squall and Rinoa are romantically involved.

 Irvine Kinneas\-- one of the Garden's elite sharpshooters. He acts like a carefree, but misunderstood loner; however, this is merely a façade to charm women and hide his lack of confidence. He grew up at the same orphanage as Quistis, Zell, Seifer, Selphie, and Squall.

Jaxon Crest\--(property of J. Seay) Entered Trabia Garden at the age of fifteen and quickly progressed through the ranks. Studied battle theory and practiced swordsmanship since the age of ten. He is easy to work with and is often requested for missions outside of the Garden Network. He still feels guilt about the death of his fiancée.

_Author's Note:_ _The following is a work of Fan-Fiction based on the world and characters from the video game_ Final Fantasy VIII _by Square-Enix. Additional information about the game and characters can be found at_ Mintfield.net _and_ Wikipedia _._

What is "Balamb Garden"?--Garden is a prestigious network of military academies for elite mercenaries known as "SeeDs". There are four Gardens as of this series: Balamb, Galbadia, Trabia, and Deling.

What is a "GF"?--GF stands for Guardian Force and is a magical creature able to be summoned in battle. There are a wide variety of GFs in the Final Fantasy universe. A side-effect of consistent use is loss of long-term memory.

_If you have not read_ Bookworms and . . . Booya! _, I would recommend doing so before reading_ Few Words _. The following book is a side-story which takes place during books 3 and 4 of the_ Bookworms and Booya _series._

Few Words
Chapter One

A Word

"Fujin."

I looked up from the computer terminal located in the remodeled basement of Balamb Garden and straightened. Seifer stood at the entrance to his office of the Garden Network Security Division dressed in his new usual black slacks, black silk shirt, and black dress shoes. He held his favorite coffee mug, which gave me a jolt of satisfaction. I had given him the dark blue mug upon his reinstatement to Garden as Head of Security.

"SIR?"

Seifer stepped back and motioned into his office. "A word."

I curtly nodded and strode forward, stepping past him to stand at attention across from his desk. Previously, I wouldn't have. Standing at attention and saluting had been traditions with no basis in respect or deserving. My entire career on the Disciplinary Committee I hadn't saluted but maybe once. Now, with Seifer as Head of Security for the _entire_ Garden Network, and myself reinstated as his second in command, the tradition felt right. It felt deserved.

Seifer closed the door and made his way to the other side of his desk. He set his mug down before meeting my gaze.

"Report."

I pulled a sheaf of papers from the inside pocket of my SeeD uniform jacket and presented it to him.

"Trabia?" he asked.

"YES."

"Are they with us?"

"YES."

Seifer responded with a curt nod and set the papers on his desk. "Good. Trepe and Regal have agreed. They've set the plans in motion."

I motioned to the basement Security office's main floor seen through the window behind me. "SISTER."

Seifer lowered himself into his black leather chair. "The younger Regal believes her brother is actually wanting to date Trepe." He smirked. "She has no idea of the mission or the conspiracy. I want to keep it that way."

I briskly nodded. "ORDERS?"

Seifer kicked his feet up onto the desk after taking up his coffee mug. "Go to Galbadia Garden and touch base with Marshal. He'll need a secure line in order to contact me."

I saluted and turned.

"Fujin."

I turned back to Seifer and silently waited.

Seifer regarded me with that same intense look I'd come to trust. The expression I knew could see through any weakness or falsity. To my surprise, the intensity changed as he stared at me. "Ahndra, it's been five years."

I blinked at the use of my real name. "SIR?"

"Five years," he repeated meaningfully. "Time to let it go. Move on, damn it."

I briefly clenched my jaw, my hands clasped behind my back as memories began to push at me. "EXPLAIN."

Seifer pulled his legs from his desk and stood to move across from me. His gaze held mine. "Ahndra, it's been five damn years. When are you going to quit being his toy soldier?"

I went rigid, arms at my sides as my good eye sparked. "BEWARE."

Seifer leaned against his desk and scoffed. "Bullshit, Ahndra. I'm not the asshole here. He was. He's gone. Five years gone." He focused on his coffee mug as he purposefully set it beside him. "We used to really talk about shit, Ahndra." He looked up and met my gaze. "It's been five damn years."

I held his gaze, knowing he wouldn't look away. I clenched my jaw.

Seifer crossed his arms, and the intensity returned as bright as ever. "Dismissed."

I saluted and strode from the office, fists clenched as I left the Security Division and boarded the elevator to the main floor. I frowned and tightly crossed my arms, my head lowering a fraction as my hard glare focused on the seam of the elevator door.

Whispers.

Shouts.

Pain--

I sharply lifted my head, my arms going to my sides as the lift doors opened. I strode out and down the stairs, turning left and heading for the dorms to gather my gear.

*

I stowed my pack and weapon on the couch of the train and sat beside them, leaning back into the couch with crossed arms as I stared at the far wall. _'What were you thinking, you little slut! Get outta h--'_ I flinched, hiding it with an adjustment of my arms as I looked away from the wall. _'Damn it, Ahndra! Didn't I tell you not to--'_ I flinched again and crossed my legs, moving my gaze to the knee of the dark slacks of my uniform.

I glared.

There was a twinge of pain in my left eye, so I reached up to remove the patch. I closed my eyes and gently massaged away the throb with my fingertips. _'Next time'_ \--slap-- _I tell you'--_ smack-- _'to be quiet'_ \--slap--' _shut the hell up!'_

I fisted the eye patch and sharply stood. "STOP!"

The voices and images quieted, lurking in the back part of my mind along with the name 'Ahndra'. I slipped the eye patch back on, adjusted it slightly, and then sat back into the couch with crossed arms and a glare aimed at my knee.

*

I headed past the main gate of Galbadia Garden and entered the main section of the facility, passing through the main corridor and taking the left hallway to the security section. A man of average height and better-than-average build with black hair and silver eyes exited the room. He stopped when his eyes focused on me.

He smiled and stepped forward, presenting a hand. "Hey Fujin. How's it going?"

I halted in front of him; two paces from his outstretched hand. "MARSHAL," I greeted with a curt nod. "PRIVATE."

Marshal cleared his throat, retracted his hand to rub at the back of his neck, and then motioned for me to follow him back into the security section. "Sure. Let's head on in and go to my office."

I strode past and into the section. It was easily one-third the size of the security division within Balamb Garden, which was the head of operations for all security matters within the entire Network.

I made my way into the back right portion of the section and waited at the door of Marshal's high-security office. He tapped in his security code, pressed his thumb against a panel to the right of the key pad, and entered when the door opened.

He closed the door behind him. "So, what's the word from Seifer? On or off?" he asked as he moved to his desk.

"ON."

Marshal smiled. "Hot damn. A real sting." He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Haven't had this much fun since my field exam. Not even when Sally Regal--"

"MESSAGE?"

Marshal blinked. Then he smirked and leaned forward, gesturing to the seat across from him. I shook my head but stood at ease with my hands behind my back.

"Message. Right." He rubbed the back of his neck again. "Just ask Seifer to keep me up on whatever's going on. If he needs me to do something, just send the word. I'll get right on it."

"AFFIRMATIVE."

"Tell him we're good to go with those names. And, hey, thanks for the heads up."

I pulled a phone off a holster on my hip and handed it forward. "SECURE."

Marshal stood and took the phone. He examined it with a raised eyebrow. "Hot damn. This is awesome. Internet, network, and secure phone line in one." He opened it and began typing through the different menus and options. "Scrambler. Satellite connection. Hell. This is better than **my** handheld." He looked up. "Thanks."

I curtly nodded and turned to go. Marshal stood and hurried forward to open the door for me. I sent him a raised eyebrow and a cold stare.

He smiled and motioned past. "Ladies first."

_'Damn slut! Aren't good for anything bu--'_ I clenched my jaw and looked away, striding forward to exit the office. Marshal walked along beside, and then he reached out for the exit door, a hand going to the knob at the same time he touched the small of my back--I spun and grabbed him by the throat, propelling him around and slamming him against the wall beside the door. The security section went deathly silent. Marshal stared down at me with wide eyes.

"NEVER."

Marshal's face began to redden, his lips growing blue as he slightly nodded.

A moment more and then I released my grip. He gasped and fell to his knees, hands rubbing his throat as he choked and coughed. I yanked open the door and strode outside. _'How do you like it, whore?!_ ' screams _'Huh?! Damn, cock-suckin' bitch--'_ smack smack ' _Stay out all night--this what you want?_ ' choked screams and pleadings. _'Is it?!'_

I halted and spun, slamming a fist into the wall to my right. "BASTARD!" My voice cracked. I pressed my palms and forehead against the wall. "DAMN IT!" Punch. "Damn it." thump thump "Damn it. . . ."
Chapter Two

Hidden

I tossed my gear onto the farthest couch and slumped down onto the other, bending over my knees to stare at the floor of the SeeD's cabin on the train back to Balamb. My hands hung limp as my wrists rested against my knees. I flinched, cringing as I pressed a hand to my forehead. Throbbing. Burning. I laid back and covered my face with my hands, drowning under the flames of memories--

...a child's laughter... "ring around the rosie; a pocket full of posies"... drawings and tea parties, doll houses and dress up...

...a small apartment in a bustling city... Deling City... Traffic sounds invade the small living room as a child with curls of brunette hair laughs and plays with a doll house made of shoe boxes, tissue paper, and marker drawn windows with curtains and blue skies. Her eyes are bright with innocence and laughter; her face is beautiful with the grace of youth.

There is a fumbling at the door. The child's laughter and smile fades as she looks over her shoulder to the door. Her beauty pales with fear. She turns away and scrambles with picking up her imaginary doll house and paper dolls. There is the sound of keys inserted clumsily into the lock. The child whimpers, tears glimmering in the wide eyes as she rushes to a back room and quickly deposits the imaginary world into her closet. She scurries out for the rest of her things--

The door is pushed roughly open, revealing a large man with a wrinkled uniform and a haggard expression of exhaustion and anger. The child freezes in horror; her small form begins to tremble. The man tosses down his things, muttering under his breath in oblivion of the terror on the child's face. In oblivion even of the child.

_He looks up and stops. Anger flares to rage and he stalks forward, grabbing the child by the arm and ignoring her whimpered cry. "What the hell is this, you good for nothin'--" He pushes her roughly to the ground. "What have I told you about leaving your toys in the middle of the floor! Damn it, you little--" He grabs her up and gives her a rough succession of shakes. "If I_ **ever** _catch you leaving your shit everywhere again, Ahndra, I'll break your face!" Throws her down. "Now pick it up!"..._

*

...a young girl's laughter... "and I heard that Bobby likes Tina, but she won't even look at him because he's in 7th grade like her and she's going out with a freshman"... costume jewelry and hidden stashes of make-up, dream slumber parties and long notes...

...a small apartment in a bustling city... Deling City... Traffic sounds invade the small bedroom as a young girl with curls of brunette hair and surprising streaks of silver laughs and talks on the phone; speaking of life and school and future dreams. Her eyes are bright with laughter; her face is beautiful with the grace of youth muted by a bruise on the left cheek and a scar on her forehead near her left temple. One of her fingers is wrapped in a splint made of popsicle sticks.

_There is a slam from the living room. The young girl sits up, her eyes darkening with a look of fear. "I-I've got to go, Seifer. Dad's home. ... No. I'll be fine. ... I know. ... Seifer,_ **I've got to go** _\--"_

The bedroom door slams open, revealing a large man with a wrinkled uniform and a haggard expression of exhaustion and anger. The young girl's eyes open wide and she drops the phone; her thin form begins to tremble. The man strides forward and grabs the phone from her hand, ripping the line from the wall and throwing the phone across the room. He slaps her hard across the face.

The blow sends her over the side of the bed and onto the floor.

_"Damn useless bitch. Get out there and make dinner! Don't_ **ever** _let me catch you slackin' off again." He tromps around the bed and grabs her by the arm, throwing her ahead of him to the door as she whimpers and cries. "Shut up! Or I'll_ **give** _you something to cry about!"..._

*

...a young woman's awkward silence... "It's not a big deal. I tripped..." ... "It's nothing. Really. I shut my hand in the car door." ... "Oh. I'm fine. I bumped a can of soup out of the cupboard. It hit me in the eye." ... silent hours in her room, silent walks home; alone, staring off in space out the window, starting at the slightest sound...

...a small street in a bustling city... Deling City... Traffic sounds invade the silence as a young woman and young man walk side by side toward a three-story apartment complex. The young woman has short straight brunette hair with a mass of silver streaks throughout. Her face is solemn and shadowed with a slowly vanishing bruise on her right cheek. Scars and scratches have faded with the years, hidden now by always used make-up. The young man has short-cut blond hair and a brooding expression of withheld anger. He wears combat boots of black and military issue slacks and a shirt of dark blue. A gunblade is holstered at his side.

The pair halts outside the entrance of the apartment building. The young man faces the young woman, who continues to stare at the road at her feet.

"Let me go up with you."

She shakes her head. "It's okay."

The young man motions to the third story. "It's late. He's gonna beat you around."

She raises sorrowful and dead eyes to the entrance of the building. "I'll be fine."

The young man rubs at the back of his neck and releases a quick breath. "Damn it, Ahndra, finish your studies at Garden. It'll be a helluvalot safer than staying here." Ahndra remains quiet and lowers her gaze to the ground again. The young man clenches his jaw. "I swear, if that damn drunk hits you one more time, I'm gonna rip his arm off and shove it up his ass."

Ahndra looks up. "Don't. Please."

_The young man motions behind him. "Then come with me to Balamb Garden. Headmaster Cid'll enroll you first thing! You won't need to come back here; ever!" He stretches his arms and hands toward her, ignoring her flinch. "I'll loan you some money, so you can get some clothes and shit. Hell, Headmaster Cid'll probably_ **give** _you some things. But you have to come now. If you don't..." The young man straightens and releases a deep breath. "Ahndra, If you don't, he's gonna kill you. I know it."_

Ahndra focuses on the door again. "No. He won't." She steps toward it. "Bye, Seifer."

Young Seifer Almasy watches her enter the building with an expression of helplessness.

Ahndra walks softly and stealthily up the stairs to the third story, missing the creaky boards she knows so well. She treads down the long hallway with the torn carpet and peeling wallpaper with growing dread, her mouth going dry as nausea works its way into the deepest pit of her stomach and soul. She swallows hard, eyes focused on the furthest door.

She halts in front of it, pulling a single key from her pocket and biting her lower lip as she slips it into the lock--

The door is yanked open, light from beyond is shadowed by the massive frame. She cowers back as her wide-eyed gaze focuses on the heavy-lidded eyes of her father. His breath smells of stale beer and cigarettes. A pornographic movie is heard in the background, the moans and groans heightening Ahndra's dread.

"You little whore!" He grabs her arm and drags her forward. "What're you doin' out this late? Workin' the street for drugs? Blowin' each money-lovin' dickhead that puts his hand up your legs!"

He throws her forward ahead of him, keeping a vise-like hold on her hand as he slaps her hard across her face. She doesn't make a sound as blood drops from her broken lip. He slaps her again, so hard she drops to her knees.

"Yeah, that's right, you sex-hungry bitch. Get in the position." He begins to unfasten his belt. "I'll give you what you want!"

Ahndra stares up at him with sorrowful eyes. "Daddy, please..."

He cuffs her hard. "Don't 'daddy' me!"

She chokes back a sob, and he grabs her up and throws her across the room toward her bedroom. "Get in there!" He follows after her, pushing and shoving at her trembling form. "You want it so bad, I'll sex you up."

She bites back a whimper as he shoves her forward onto the bed...

*

...a young woman's dead silence...

...a small apartment in a bustling city... Deling City... Traffic sounds invade the silence of a dead room as a young woman with short silver hair and a cast on her left arm deftly packs a small bag. Her beauty is marred with experience and an unnatural coldness. She looks to a clock with emotionless eyes and then finishes her packing. A slam of the apartment's front door is heard as she closes the lid and zippers it closed.

clomp clomp clomp clomp--bedroom door crashes open.

She looks up with an unmoved gaze.

"What the hell? Where do you think you're going, you little slut!"

She picks up the bag and steps toward the exit blocked by the huge frame. "AWAY."

_"Like hell you are!" He grabs hold of her arm and shakes her. She stares up at him with dead eyes. "You don't go nowhere until_ **I** _give the word, you ungrateful bitch!"_

"NO."

He cuffs her hard across the face, sending her backwards. She trips over the tattered carpet and turns, falling into the old desk to the left of her bed. "Don't you say no to me, girl! I'll whip you within an inch of your life!"

He strides forward as she struggles to her feet, grabbing her by the arm to lift her the remaining way. Blood gushes from her left eye. He cringes in disgust and pushes her away. She falls back, smacking her head into the desk and tumbling to the floor.

"Get away from her!"

The man turns sharply to see a towering form filling the doorway. A blond haired young man dressed in a military-type uniform of dark blue strides forward and grabs him by the shirtfront, lifting him several inches from the ground. Rage and revenge flash in the young man's dark eyes.

"You bastard," the young man hisses. "I'm gonna kill you, you sack of shit."

The young man punches the father in the face to the sound of cracking bones. Blood splatters the young man's clothes and the floor at his feet. The father groans in pain and goes limp. The young man tosses him hard to the left, sending him into the far wall with a loud crash and crunch. The father slumps to the ground.

"Ahndra!" The young man strides forward, gently holding the young woman by the upper arms and pulling her up from the floor. Blood continues to ooze from her left eye and her head falls limply back. "Ahndra." The young man lifts her up into his arms and strides from the bedroom.

*

I gave a choked cry and sat up. The throbbing had worsened, so I carefully removed my patch to gently massage the scarred area just beneath it. _'It's been five damn years.'_ I released a deep breath and closed my eye, not noticing the tear that wet the trousers of my SeeD uniform.
Chapter Three

Hell

"Yo, Fujin!"

Raijin jogged forward with his usual easy lope as I entered Balamb Garden. I came to a stop just inside. He halted in front of me to put his hands on his hips, breathing deeply.

I watched him with a raised eyebrow. "WIMP."

"Gimme a break, Fujin." huff puff "It's not like we need to train every day anymore, ya know?" puff puff "We're at peace, ya know?"

"SEE-D."

"Yeah. Yeah. Ready for anything." Raijin straightened and gestured back toward Garden. "Seifer wants a report, like, yesterday, ya know?"

I strode past.

Raijin picked up the pace to walk beside me. "So what're ya all gung-ho about anyway?"

I clenched my jaw and sent him a sidelong glare.

He raised his hands, eyes wide. "Okay, okay. I won't ask. I just thought I should know. We're a posse, ya know? We don't keep no secrets from each other, ya know?"

I looked away again. "DUTY."

"Ya, well, I'm on security too, ya know? I should know."

I halted and faced him, grabbing his shirt front. "STOP."

Raijin struggled with my hold on his shirt. "Okay, okay, Fujin. I'll stop bitchin'."

I pushed him away and strode forward again.

"Why're you in such a bitchy mood?"

My sidelong glare flashed.

He backed off, hands raised. "Sorry."

I looked away again. "GO."

"Okay, Fujin. I'll tell Seifer you're on your way." He jogged ahead.

I scoffed and continued forward. At times like these I wondered why I put up with his lax attitude and minimal amount of discipline. But then I remembered his undying loyalty. We had been through a lot together, strictly because we were a 'posse'. _'Damn selfish bitch! Don't care 'bout no one but--_ ' I pushed it roughly away, fists clenched.

"Hi, Fujin."

I halted near the information booth in the main corridor and looked up toward the elevator. Sally Regal descended, previously 'employed' in the library, current standing: Zell Dincht's girlfriend and Investigation Squad 'Cracker'.

"REGAL." She halted in front of me, blue eyes mirroring her fear. That fear annoyed me. Sally Regal was scared of everything. One of the reasons I couldn't understand why Seifer had placed her within the Security Team. "WHAT?"

She flinched. "Um, I'm going to the cafeteria to get some sodas. You want anything?"

I blinked and an eyebrow arched of its own volition. "NO."

"Okay." Her lips trembled in a forced smile, which faded. "Um, Bye." She walked past.

I stared after her and then focused ahead once more and ascended the stairs to enter the elevator. I pushed the button for the basement level. Jaw clenched, I kept all thoughts strictly distant as the elevator sped below. A spark coiled my insides, but I pushed it aside and stepped from the lift.

Seifer straightened from where he stood over a SeeD he trained for Network patrol and caught my gaze. He looked to his office and then bent back over the young man's shoulder to instruct. I didn't acknowledge the signal. I simply headed for his office.

'Damn it, Ahndra, finish your studies at Garden. It'll be a helluvalot safer than staying--'

I ground my teeth and entered Seifer's office, standing at attention in front of his desk as my gaze focused on the Balamb Garden insignia worked into the carpet. I clasped my hands behind my back, feet spread shoulders width apart as I waited.

' _...if that damn drunk hits you one more time..._ '

' _...that's right, you sex-hungry bitch--'_

I cringed and clasped my hands tighter. _Bastard._

'I'm gonna kill you, you sack of shit.'

I relaxed my grip and released a deep breath. The throbbing of my left eye had started again. It always did when I thought of my father and the hell I'd lived for 16 years before finally going to Balamb Garden. The beatings. The rapes. The drunken rages.

The door closed. Footsteps approached and stepped around to the desk in front of me. I didn't look up. I stared at the insignia on the carpeted floor beneath his desk, and then the black loafers as Seifer leaned against it. I felt the intense scrutiny and slowly looked up, expression guarded. I was getting tired of looking up.

"Report," Seifer said slowly.

"READY."

Seifer curtly nodded. "Good." He regarded me as he sipped his coffee.

I held his gaze. ' _Let me go up with you.'_ "DISMISSED?"

He studied my expression before setting his mug to the side. "No. Not yet." He crossed his arms.

I waited. ' _I'll loan you some money.'_

"Marshal said something about a hole in a wall outside the security section."

I didn't react. I didn't say anything. ' _Ahndra, he's gonna kill you. I know it. . . come with me to Balamb Garden.'_ Seifer adjusted his crossed arms and even crossed his ankles as he continued to lean against the desk.

Calmness itself.

A rock.

"Why the hole, Fujin?"

I momentarily clenched my jaw, memories sparking in my eye and throbbing within my scar. "RAGE."

"With Marshal?" Seifer pressed. "Something I need to nip in the bud?"

My lips formed a thin line. "NO."

Annoyance rippled within the calm. "Why the hole, Fujin?" he asked again.

The throbbing became a sharp pain within my brain. "BEWARE."

Seifer leaned forward, getting in my face as no one but him dared. "Tell me why there's a damn hole, Ahndra!"

My eye narrowed and my jaw began to ache. "FUJIN."

"Why's there a hole, **Ahndra**?"

White rage flared. I punched him in the face. He took it, rotating his jaw slightly before looking back to me. His gaze didn't lessen its intensity.

"DEAD!" I retorted.

"Like hell she's dead." He pointed at me. "She's right here, only she's too damn afraid of the past to--" I struck out. He caught the fist--"look it in the face and spit in its eye," he finished.

I jerked my fist from his grasp and turned on my heel.

"I didn't dismiss you," he barked.

I halted, fists clenched.

Footsteps approached and then Seifer stood in front of me. He clenched his jaw, arms crossed as he held my gaze. "Who did you really want to hit? Me? Or your old man?"

I narrowed my eye. "STOP."

Seifer took firm hold of my arms. " **Damn it** , Ahndra--"

I shoved myself away from him, eyes flashing. "NEVER!"

His jaw muscle twitched as he stood across from me, hands balled into fists as the glare on his face hardened his expression. Finally, he lifted a hand to point roughly at himself, jabbing his chest. "I'm **not** your old man! I'm not gonna beat you around! I'm not gonna--" Seifer's hand lowered, and for the first time in my life I saw guilt in his green eyes. "Damn it, Ahndra! I just want you to **talk** to me!"

I could only stare at him. Words and their uses had been lost a long time before.

Seifer released a quick breath. "Hell," he muttered as he turned away. Seifer jerked open the door and strode out into the main security division. "Dismissed," he called over his shoulder.

I balled my hands into fists and stared after him. My eye throbbed.
Chapter Four

Later

tap-tap-tap

I looked up from burning the toes of my black boots with my glare and focused instead on melting Sally Regal as she stood--very uncomfortable--in the doorway of my office. "WHAT."

She flinched, and the action skewered a specific point behind my scarred eye to my brain. _'_ _What do you want_ _, Ahndra?! Can't you see I'm busy?'_ smack--I lowered my gaze.

"Sorry to bother you, Fujin, ma'am." She stepped a little forward, bending and folding and re-straightening a sheaf of papers in her hands. "Seifer told me to give this report to you right away. Did you want me to just put it in your inbox out there?" she asked as she gestured toward the door.

I continued to stare at the toes of my boots as I stretched out a hand. "GIVE."

"Oh. All right." Sally stepped forward and placed the sheaf of papers within my hands.

I snapped it out of her hands and tossed it onto my desk. She flinched yet again. Throbbing. "OUT."

"Y-Yes, ma'am." Sally saluted and turned to leave, closing the door softly behind her.

I lifted my gaze to stare at that door.

...the wooden paneled door opens to reveal a young man in military-style uniform. A weapon is absent from the holster at his hip. The young woman in the hospital bed carefully pushes herself up. A bandage covers nearly her entire head. There's no smile of welcome. No expression of relief. Just chilling coldness. Deadness. Emptiness.

The young man steps forward, pulling a chair closer to her side of the bed. He turns and straddles it, resting his arms along the back of the chair. "How you feelin'?"

"FINE."

The young man lowers his gaze to the peeling upholstery of the pad on the back of the chair and picks at it. "The doctors tell you anything?"

The young woman with the silver hair looks to the window on the right side of her hospital room. "BLIND."

The young man clenches his jaw, pressing his lips into a thin line as he balls a hand into a fist. "Damn it," he mutters. He looks over at her. "I'm sorry, Ahndra. I could've stopped the bastard if I'd come straight from the station."

Ahndra looks over at him, but her expression doesn't change. "SEIFER." She slightly shakes her head.

Seifer looks away. "They tell you when you get your walkin' papers?"

"FOURTEEN."

He moves his focus back to Ahndra's bruised face. "Days?"

"YES."

"What're you gonna do?"

Ahndra shifts her gaze to the window and the outside grounds of the hospital in Deling City. "ENROLL."

He seems to wait for something more. When it doesn't come, he adjusts his position in the chair. "What about your old man?" Ahndra doesn't move her gaze from the window. "The bastard belongs in jail, Ahn--"

"FUJIN."

"What?"

Ahndra meets his surprised gaze. "FUJIN."

"'Fujin' what?"

She looks away again. "NAME."

Seifer frowns. "What the hell for?"

"NAME."

"I heard that, Ahndra. I'm not deaf, damn it. I just want you to tell me what the hell you're changing your name for." He stands. "And what the hell's with the one word sentences?"

Ahndra/Fujin finally looks over at him. There is a hint of pleading in her expression. "Please," she whispers.

He clenches his jaw, balling his hands into fists as he holds her gaze. He gives a curt nod. "Fine. So what're you gonna do about your old man... Fujin."

Fujin looks away. "NOTHING."

"Nothing! Are you crazy? He woulda killed you, Ahn--" He presses his lips together. "You can't let him get away with this."

"LATER."

"Later my ass," Seifer mumbles. He sits roughly back in the chair, watching her expressionless face as she stares out the window. ...

...I blinked and moved my gaze back to my shoes. _'It's been five damn years.'_ I glared. Five years was enough of a 'later'.

*

I stood outside the small apartment in the bustling city, Deling City, and stared at the door. It had been repainted a dark burgundy since I was there last. The carpet had been replaced and the peeling wallpaper from my memory had been removed, the walls painted with a simple pale yellow instead. I pulled a key from my pocket and stared down at it. My brain was so quiet that it actually scared me.

I slipped the key into the lock and opened the door.

The apartment was just as I remembered, but it seemed even smaller. Stifling with memories of terror, rage, and violence. I closed the front door, setting my pack on the floor by it while my mind registered and relived each and every beating and violation.

I bent to pick up a beer bottle from the coffee table, feeling again the blunt force of the thing against my back. My fingers tightened around it briefly before setting it back down. A blood speckle on the carpet from a broken nose. A tear in the wallpaper from a thrown beer bottle that barely missed my head.

I made my way down the short hallway, pausing outside my room. Mostly everything was the same. There were extra boxes, but that was all. I stepped forward, passing the boxes as screams and cries assaulted my ears and numbed brain. I halted in front of the desk, a hand reaching out to touch the stained corner and then my patch-covered eye.

I balled my fist and turned, seeing again the shadow of Seifer's frame filling the doorway. Hearing the crash of my father being thrown across the room. Feeling the relief--I pushed it aside as I looked around the room, gauging the things and the memories and the nightmares that I had actually lived. Lived and survived.

Survived.

My lips twisted in a sneer and my foot kicked something when I stepped forward. I looked down. Then I stooped to retrieve... a paper doll--

...a child's laughter... "ring around the rosie; a pocket full of posies"... drawings and tea parties, doll houses and dress up... ...a small apartment in a bustling city... Deling City... Traffic sounds invade the small living room as a child with curls of brunette hair laughs and plays with a doll house made of shoe boxes, tissue paper, and marker drawn windows with curtains and blue skies. Her eyes are bright with innocence and laughter; her face is beautiful with the grace of youth--

I balled the paper doll into my fist and looked up, releasing it back to the floor as I stepped forward to exit the bedroom. My father had done much the same to my childhood. Mashing it between his fingers when he should have done something much different. _I shouldn't have had to survive my childhood. I should have--_

I pressed my lips together and moved to stand in the middle of the room as I stared at the front door. I looked at my watch. I moved to sit on the couch, arms crossed as I glared at the coffee table.

There was a fumbling of keys at the lock. I looked up and over as I adjusted my crossed arms. A familiar drowning wave of terror bubbled up, but I fought it back with my rage and hatred. The door was shoved open and my father entered, balancing keys along with two bags of groceries. He looked different than I remembered. Older. More haggard. Anger still burned in his face and eyes, but there was something--

He dropped his keys onto the catch-all dresser to the right of the door and faced forward, taking one step toward the kitchenette before halting. He paled and lost hold of one of the bags. It dropped to the floor, contents miraculously staying within.

I slowly stood. His gaze followed the motion, and his pallor became green. "A-Ahndra?"

The expression in my eye couldn't have been colder or harder than granite. "DADDY." And I used the word as insult in both voice and meaning.

He looked suddenly very sick.

I stepped forward. He took a step back and to the side when I continued toward my pack. I knelt and unzipped it, rifling within the contents to find what I searched for. I pulled it out, staring at it a moment before straightening and facing him again. I glared. "BASTARD."

But that wasn't enough. Sixteen years of hell on earth wouldn't let that word be enough.

I clenched my jaw, ignoring the throbbing within my eye. I reached up to pull the patch from my head. He cringed. I pointed at the scarred silver and then at him. "YOU. BASTARD." I fisted the eye-patch and reached over to jerk up my left sleeve. I pointed at the scars. "THIS." I bent to pull up my right pantleg. More scars. "THESE."

I straightened and stepped forward. He backed off yet again. I stretched out my hand that held the previously retrieved item. It was a broken angel figurine. My throat tightened. "YOU BROKE." I brought it up to my chest. To my heart. My soul. Who I was. Who I would have been. "THIS." I pounded my chest. "THIS! BASTARD!" My voice choked, and I flung the pieces at him.

He flinched away, deflecting them from his face with raised hands.

I stood silent and still until he faced me again. I gathered all the words I had ever wished to say. ". . .you, nothing," I hissed as I made a sharp gesture with my arm.

And then I strode up to him and spat in his face, daring him to retaliate. Daring him to strike out at me so I would have an excuse to kill him. He didn't move. He didn't even wipe the spittle from his face. He just stood there; one arm limp at his side while the other clutched his groceries.

I sneered and grabbed up the pieces of the angel before I turned, snatching up my pack as I left the apartment and strode down the hallway, leaving the past behind. Leaving the terror. The fear. The hell. Little by little it flowed from me like blood, oozing from the wounds and leaving me weaker. And what would I be without hatred to drive me? I reached the bottom of the stairs and slumped against the wall, my left hand releasing its vise-like grip on my pack. It thudded to the ground. Then I heard the footsteps. The same steady beat I'd heard . . . .

"Oh my god--Ahndra!" Steps approach a withered form at the bottom of the stairs.

The young woman barely has the strength to groan in pain as the young man moves her bruised and battered body, clothes ripped and tattered still clutched in place by gnarled fingers. The young man gathers her into his arms, ignoring her whispers of protest and her vain and weak attempts to push away. Terror and self-preservation drive her actions.

The young man turns and exits the three-story apartment to hurry toward the nearest hospital. "Hold on, Ahndra." He presses his lips together. "Damn it. Hold on."

I looked up. Honest intensity stared back at me. Calmness itself. A rock. As usual, I pushed myself up from the wall and grabbed my pack. I strode forward, Seifer falling into step beside me. Not taking anything. Not saying anything. Just being there. Seifer had **always** been there. Through the better times and the worse times. Through the beatings, the rapes, the broken bones, and the trips to the hospital. Seifer had seen it all. He was the only one who **knew** me.

The only person I trusted, if I even knew how to trust anyone.

My mind choked and stalled, so I simply headed forward. Past buildings, alleys, businesses, bus stops, and other blurred buildings. Terror still lurked; an unexplainable horror at a future I couldn't see to control. It was as if my father still controlled what I thought and felt. Though I had walked away from him twice, his angry eyes still made me do what I hated: give in--I halted, slamming my fist into the wall of the nearby building. Pain and blood erupted, spattering my face and clothes as it sprayed the wall and sidewalk. I struck out again, but a firm hold on my arm kept my fist back. I pulled against it, a terrifying coldness throttling any word I might have voiced.

"Fujin."

I pulled against the restraining hold again, blinking away a slight mist. My eye began to throb; the piercing pain was all I felt.

"Ahndra. Stop."

My fight with the hold ceased, and my arm went limp as I stared at the bloodied spot on the wall. Mind silent. Insides cold. I should have felt something. Anger. Rage. Fury. Relief. **Anything**. But as I stared at the bloody wall with the memory of my father's shocked face burning in my mind. . .nothing.

I pulled my arm from the hold's firmness; it released. I lowered my gaze to the speckled white of my shirt and raised a hand to touch the spots of blood. Then the broken and bloodied knuckles on my hand caught my focus. Blood. Violence. Fury. That was all I ever remembered. All I ever saw. My only reaction to anything.

A hand reached within my field of vision to take hold of my bloodied one, but I jerked back and looked up and to my right.

Seifer presented a piece of cloth. "Here," he said simply.

I focused on the cloth for a moment before turning my head away and offering forward my hand. My skin crawled, muscles continuing to twitch as Seifer applied the makeshift bandage. I clenched my jaw, fighting back the nearly burning need to pull from the slight touch.

"You got your meds?"

I slightly nodded, teeth still clenched. "Pack."

The makeshift bandage was tied around my bloodied knuckles, and then Seifer crouched to rifle through my pack in search of the pills.

I grabbed the pack from him. "STOP."

Seifer straightened. "Damn it, Ahndra--" He broke off, clenching his jaw as he balled his hands into fists. Then Seifer grabbed my pack from my hands.

"STOP!"

"Stop what? What the **hell** am I doing?" He shook the bag at me. "Getting your damn pills! And what the hell is wrong with that? Nothing, god damn it! Now back off!"

_'God damn it, Ahndra, I know what I'm doing! Get your hands out of the way!'_ I flinched and backed off before I could stop myself.

Seifer actually went green. He released a deep breath. "Ahndra," he said, calmer, "damn it, I'm not sayin' you can't do it yourself." He handed me the bag again. "I'm trying to help."

I reached out with a slow action, not meeting his gaze as I took the bag from him and searched within. "DON'T."

"Don't help?" Seifer asked after a pause. "Don't give a damn?"

His voice became softer with each question, an overwhelming intensity hiding beneath. I fisted my hands around the found bottle of pills as well as the strap of the pack as I stared down at the bottle label.

"Don't blame myself? Don't hate the bastard who did this? Don't want to blast his brains out? Don't **what** , Ahndra?"

My head snapped up. "DON'T!"

"That's not good enough," he said. His voice was still calmly controlled, even though I could hear the nearly explosive intensity in it. "You finally stood up to the asshole, and I'm damned proud of you. But you're not done. You can't be half-assed about this." He pointed sharply at me. "And you damn well know it."

I moved my glare back to the bottle of pills. I shook my head. "STOP."

Seifer crossed his arms. "Hell no I'm not going to stop, Ahndra. You've let the bastard control your life long enough. You're my friend, damn it, and I've finally pulled my head out of my ass far enough to see what I've got to do."

One side of my lips twitched upward in a surprising smile as I lifted my gaze to meet his. "SHOCK."

Seifer smirked. "Very funny." Then his serious expression returned. "But don't think I'm gonna let off, Ahndra. I'm gonna push, and I'm gonna push hard."

I turned away. "FINE." I'd been pushed around before.
Chapter Five

Buttons

tap-tap-tap

I looked up from a report and gave a slight twitch of my eyebrow. Marshal entered accompanied by a clearing of the throat and a rub of the back of his neck. He had come to Balamb Garden to attend a Security Team meeting regarding a proposed Garden in Winhill as well as an update of the current top-secret operation regarding Deling Garden. I had expected him to leave directly following.

I set down the report as he closed the door to my office and came to stand across from my desk, his silver eyes only occasionally meeting mine. "MARSHAL," I greeted simply.

"You gotta sec?"

I leaned slightly back in my chair as I motioned to one across from my desk.

"Thanks." He sat on the edge of the chair, rubbing his hands together as he cleared his throat again.

"MARSHAL."

He looked up. "Yeah?"

Something about the whole scene struck my twisted nature as funny, so I surrendered to a slight smirk. "WHAT."

Marshal grimaced. "Fujin, did I piss you off?"

My eyebrow arched this time. "EXPLAIN."

"Last week."

My smirk vanished, as did the thought that any of this was funny. I looked away and crossed my arms.

"Whatever I did, Fujin--I'm an ass most of the time, Dincht would say all the time, but I'm still sorry. Swear."

_Sorry._ That was only the second time I'd ever heard the word aimed at me. _'I'm sorry, daddy--' ... 'please, stop! I'm sorry!' ... 'don't hit me, daddy. I'm sorry. I'm sorry--'_

"Fujin?"

I twitched and met his gaze. He was sorry. I could read it in his eyes. I clenched my jaw and looked away again. "FINE."

But Marshal didn't leave.

I balled my hands into fists. "WHAT?"

"What'd I do? Was it the door thing? Was it something I said in the office? What?"

Irritation sparked, fed by something I recognized all too well. _'Quit cowering like a damn dog, god damn it! Look me in the eye when I'm talkin' to you--!'_

I met Marshal's gaze, and he leaned back a bit with an expression of surprise. "NOTHING."

He watched my face, still holding my gaze. "You've got to be kidding," he said. "You nearly take my head off, you put a hole in my wall, and you say I didn't do anything?" Then, to **my** surprise, Marshal leaned forward again. "Fujin, if Seifer told you to back off, screw him," he said intensely, and then he gestured to himself. "I want to know what I did."

My glare didn't move him back in his seat. "WHY?"

"Why? Because I pissed you off! Why d'ya think?"

Frustration red-lined. I sharply stood and stalked to the door, Marshal turning in his seat to watch. I jerked open the door and then focused a hard stare on him. "DISMISSED."

He pressed his lips together before he stood. Then he strode forward, smiled tight-lipped out at the security personnel that had paused outside, and then jerked the door from my hand and closed it. He looked back over at me with an intense expression that actually surprised me.

It reminded me of Seifer.

"You don't rank me, Fujin." Marshal pointed roughly toward the outer office. "And I'm not leavin' 'til this is dealt with. We've got a job to do, and I can't do that if I'm freakin' about something I might've said or done to piss--"

"FINISHED." I turned and strode back to my desk, sitting heavily and picking up the report I'd looked over before. Rage and frustration and a lot of other all-too-familiar emotions wreaked havoc within, and my eye throbbed miserably.

Marshal released a quick breath and then strode back over to my desk. "How in the hell can it be finished when I don't even know what I did?"

"OVER." It wasn't a big deal. He'd touched me. A lot of people did. I'd just make sure I didn't stand so close next time. It wasn't a--

"Fujin, damn it, will you just--"

My hard glare shut him up, and he actually took a step back. ". . .over," I hissed.

A heavy click and clunk sounded as the door opened and closed. "What the hell is going on in here?" Seifer asked, calmly.

Marshal didn't speak; he didn't even look away from my gaze. I remained just as quiet, and I didn't lower my eyes either. I couldn't. Looking away would've meant I backed down. I couldn't do that. Ever.

"Marshal?" Seifer asked as he stepped up to Marshal's left side. Silence. Seifer looked to me. "Fujin?" he pressed.

The silence in my office reminded me of a calm before the storm of my father. My eye throbbed. Memories pounded. But I wasn't going to look away.

Marshal clenched his jaw. "I just want to know what I did, Seifer." He finally looked over at him. "What the hell nearly got my head handed to me?"

"I thought I told--"

"Screw what you told me, Almasy," Marshal barked. "Our Gardens can't work together if we can't even communicate person-to-person! Either one of you tells me what's causing the damn problem, or I walk."

Seifer examined Marshal's angry expression before looking to me. _Damn it._ Push number one. "Fujin, tell the man the issue so he can correct himself."

I clenched my jaw and balled my hands into fists, fighting tooth and nail against the push as I glared hard at Marshal and hated Seifer for what he made me do. "TOUCH." An admittance of weakness. _Shit._

Marshal's frown didn't lessen as he glared at me glaring at him hating Seifer and swearing at him within. "What the hell are you--" Seifer shot a warning glance. Marshal sucked in a quick breath and clenched his jaw several times. "Could you please give me a few more details?"

Seifer focused again on me. "Fujin, details are a little lacking. Embellish."

"Damn it, Almasy, will you let her alone. I can handle it."

Seifer raised an eyebrow, his smirk laughing in his eyes as he crossed his arms.

I continued to glare at Marshal and secretly plotted revenge.

Marshal focused again on me. "Nothing major, Fujin. Hell, just a simpl--"

". . .don't," I said in a barely heard whisper as cold as death, ". . .touch."

Marshal blinked and straightened. "What?"

"I'd say that was pretty clear, Beita," Seifer told him coldly.

Marshal's ears tinged pink as he glared at Seifer. "Screw off." He cleared his throat when he looked back to me. "I'm sorry, Fujin. I didn't know. No one tells me anything. I just run security... Heh... heh heh.. ahem." Marshal rubbed the back of his neck and started backing toward the door. "I'll... uh... I'm sorry."

He turned and exited my office with a softly spoken "Damn it, Marshal. . . ." before closing the door behind him.

I glared sharply at Seifer, who smirked at the closed door. "ASS."

"I told you I was gonna push, Ahndra, so don't give me that. Suck it up." He walked nonchalant to the door and opened it.

"ASS," I said again, loud enough I knew the entire office heard.

Seifer chuckled and closed the door behind him.

I glared at that door even after Seifer closed it. Then I scoffed loudly and picked up the report again. _'I'm sorry, Fujin--'_ I pushed it away and turned the page. _'Damn it, Almasy. Will you let her alo--'_ I tossed the pages aside with another loud scoff and crossed my arms to glare at the door. **He'd** been sorry. I slammed him against a wall. I nearly bashed in his windpipe. **He** was sorry.

Sorry.

'I'm sorry, Fujin.'

'"Please, daddy! I'm sorry!" "I don't give a damn if you're sorry--"'

I stood sharply and strode toward my office door, slamming it open and ignoring the stares as I stalked from my office and toward the elevator. It had just returned. I entered and pushed the button for the main floor. It shot upwards, and I clenched my jaw and balled my hands into fists.

'"Sorry don't clean the mess, you little bitch, now get in there!"'

I twitched with the memory and shoved it away as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. I strode forward and down the stairs to the main exit corridor, rapidly closing the distance to the solitary figure.

"MARSHAL."

Marshal stopped and turned, his silver eyes registering surprise as his hand lowered from the back of his neck. I slowed and stood across from him a safe distance, holding his gaze as I took a sledgehammer to the memories--"ACCEPTED."

He blinked. "Accepted? What's accep--Oh. Apology. Right." He cleared his throat and sent me a lop-sided smile. "Thanks, Fujin. I swear I won't tell anyone."

I arched my eyebrow but only crossed my arms, not thinking anything as the memories drifted and faded. Unspoken apologies. Pleadings for forgiveness. Acceptance never given.

Marshal's smile faded slightly as he extended a hand. I looked down at it, my fingers lightly tapping my arms in an absent descending rhythm. "From one Garden hot-head to another," he said, "count me in."

I gauged him and his hand--and then took it in a firm clasp. "GOOD."

Marshal smiled. "We'll kick some traitor ass."

I pulled my hand free and turned away, fisting the hand to keep from rubbing the touch away. My father's sneering and furious face flashed like lightning in my mind. All the touches and gropes-- _Go to hell,_ _daddy_ _._

*

"Fujin. Office. Now."

I set aside the report and stood. I kept my gaze focused ahead as I passed him and turned to make my way to his office. As I approached, I noticed Sally Regal inside. She must have just returned from her investigation of certain suspicious characters in Winhill. She and Zell had been gone for nearly five days. The investigation shouldn't have taken that long--I could have had it completed in two--but I hadn't yet read an incomplete or half-assed report from her. Reluctantly, I had to admit she was damn good at what she did.

Sally looked over her shoulder at the sound of my approach and stood. She faced me and saluted. "Fujin. Ma'am."

"REGAL." I moved to stand beside her, facing Seifer's desk and continuing to stand at attention. Sally did the same.

Seifer entered and closed the door behind him, moving to his desk after he'd lowered and closed the blinds. "At ease."

He motioned to the chairs. Sally sat. I didn't. I continued to stare above Seifer's head, hands clasped tightly behind my back. I was still pissed at push number one and had a feeling push number two was coming.

Seifer looked up at me and smirked. "Fujin, you might want to sit your ass in the chair for this."

I arched an eyebrow but declined.

He presented me a typed and bound report. I took it and read the heading and byline. **Investigative Findings of Winhill** ; Priscilla Regal, SSO-10. I flipped through the pages, skimming the information and filing it away. Then I looked up and met Seifer's gaze.

"Guess where you're being sent?" he asked, still smirking.

I pressed my lips together. I hated Winhill. Too laid back. The supposedly calm atmosphere made me suspicious and always put my back up.

"Marshal will be meeting you at the dock in Balamb. From there, you will take a small transport to Winhill and pick up where Regal left off."

"WHY?"

"'Why' what?"

"MARSHAL."

Seifer leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the desk as he crossed his arms. My insides tensed. Push number two.

"Regal, tell Fujin why."

"Y-Yes, sir." Sally cleared her throat and faced me. I continued to glare at Seifer. He continued to smirk. "Anytime someone from one of the Gardens visits, suspicions rise and cooperation plummets. When Zell and I were in plain clothes and walking around the town as if we were visitors, people were more relaxed. They actually came outdoors and talked to us about things. Nothing worthy of report or suspicion, but they still talked to us. If--"

"That's enough, Regal." Seifer's lips twitched upward a little higher. "You and Marshal will be going undercover. Your backstory is with Marshal. Understood?"

My eye began to throb. I clenched and unclenched my hands before giving a curt nod.

"Good. Regal, dismissed."

Sally stood and saluted. Then she stealthily left the office, closing the door after her.

He regarded me a moment before saying "Marshal volunteered," very carefully.

I cringed as fear rose up, making my throat go dry and my stomach lurch.

"He doesn't know you're being assigned," Seifer added.

That didn't make me feel any better. Marshal sca--I pressed my lips together.

"One thing I'll tell you about Marshal, Fujin. His younger sister was gang-raped and killed during the conflict at Dollet. Galbadian soldiers. Marshal had to watch the whole thing hog-tied and beaten."

I blinked.

"Marshal--and this is between you and me--Marshal enrolled at Galbadia Garden as a. . . terrorist, you could say. He planned to sabotage the facility from the inside out." Seifer smirked. "Administration changed before he did anything stupid, and he volunteered for Chief of Security. Best damned thing he could have done." Seifer stood and leaned heavily on the desk, palms flat. "You push him, Ahndra, and he'll push back. Maybe not as hard as me, but hard enough to piss you off. Consider this a warning to step light."

I narrowed my eye and clenched my jaw against the throb in my brain. "NO."

"Go ahead. **Push** his buttons. It'll be a damned good show, and I bet he'll put every blessed word in his report." Seifer smirked. "Have fun."

I glared and then scoffed, barking out "ASS" as I turned for the door. Seifer chuckled "Dismissed" as I closed the door behind me. Undercover. Plain clothes. Marshal. I clenched my jaw and balled my hands into fists, fighting back the terror with rage. _Damn it._
Chapter Six

Backstory

I adjusted my grip on the strap of my duffle bag. I stood just outside the dock dressed in black jeans and a medium-blue lightweight sweater I borrowed from Quistis--Hyne, I hated plain clothes--and I could see Marshal talking to one of the mechanics. He wore khaki shorts and some demon-red t-shirt.

I glared, my eye narrowing as I muttered and plotted against Seifer and tried to ignore the twisting in my gut at the prospect of contact--I pressed my lips together and stalked forward, my gaze remaining warily focused on Marshal's face. _Damn you, Seifer._

Seifer had always pushed. Even when I had 'met' him on a phone call. He had called the wrong number and demanded I get someone who didn't even live there. Some friend of his. He wouldn't listen when I tried to explain, or else he just didn't get it. At eight years of age we'd both been damned idiots. I scoffed. _Yeah. I thought Dad loved me._ He loved me all right. Loved me up real good.

I spat and tightened the grip on the duffel to prevent the cringe.

Marshal sent a quick glance my direction and then did a double-take, mouth stopped mid-word. He looked away and adjusted his feet, rubbing the back of his neck as he swore. I actually smirked. It was nice to know he looked forward to the trip and the company as little as I did.

I came to stand a safe distance from him. "MARSHAL."

He cleared his throat and sent me a brief glance and an even briefer smile. "Hey, Fujin. Tranz is ready." He motioned behind him to the transport with a jerk of his thumb and another quick glance toward me. "Let's get going."

I stepped past him without a word and entered the transport. Marshal outranked me, which meant he would be in charge. _Damn you to hell, Seifer._ I stowed my gear roughly against the bench and sat down next to it, crossing legs and arms as I glared at the blank viewer to my left. I heard the scuff of shoes on the stairs then ramp, Marshal's dialogue with the pilot, and then the clearing of Marshal's throat moments before he stepped inside. The door shut firmly behind him. Hearing that felt a lot like the sound of my dad fitting the keys into the lock--I adjusted my crossed arms and pressed my lips together.

Marshal sat across from me and produced a folder. He handed it forward. "Here's your backstory."

I stared at it coldly before I even made a move. When I began reading through it, bile gurgled in my throat. _Oh Hyne._ The transport shifted as it pulled out of the dock. I clenched my free hand into a fist to keep from bolting.

"I came up with this after a dialogue with Sally once I read her report."

I closed the folder and just stared at it.

He cleared his throat again. "Based on reported interactions--hell. Fujin, we can change the backstory. Seifer should have told me who he assigned as my partner. Punk probably thought it'd be funny seeing you beat the shit out of me."

I tossed the folder to the seat beside me, again adjusting my crossed arms as I stared at the blank viewscreen. "FINE."

"Why don't we change--"

I focused a hard stare on him. "FINE," I pressed.

Marshal leaned slightly forward, his silver eyes holding my cold stare as easily as Seifer would. The fact pissed me off. "Fujin, we can change it. It's not a big deal. You being, say, a sister just out of the hospital will hold just as much sway as us being" his ears pinked "newly engaged and looking for a place. Considering certain things, I think we better."

_Change it. Why? Because putting on a show like that would drive me over the edge?_ I clenched my jaw. It was a weakness, and that pissed me off, too. Seifer knew it would. _Bastard._ "NO." I had to do my job. That was all I had left. Everything else had gone to hell. I had to do my job.

Marshal frowned. "Fujin, Hyne, stop being such a hard-ass. There's no way in hell you're going to let me lay a hand on you, and how is that going to convince **anyone** that we're so damned 'in love'?" He scoffed and sat back in his seat with crossed arms.

Then he looked over at me again. He leaned forward as before, but this time he put his hand on my knee. I reacted without thinking, grabbing his wrist to twist his hand and arm into a very painful position. He gasped and grimaced, but he met my startled/angry gaze head on. I released his wrist.

He rubbed his newest injury as he regarded me. "Yeah, Fujin. We are just **so** in love."

I continued to glare as I crossed my arms again. "DUTY." This was my job. I **had** to do it. I couldn't let my dad take that away. He had taken everything else.

Marshal actually laughed. "You think acting in love with an ass like me is your duty? Hell no! Tracking down the punks plotting against Garden is what we're doing. And we can do that being brother/sister same as we can do it any other way."

But who would believe **him** to be my brother? And how big a difference was it to treat him as such or act like--I clenched my jaw and extended my hand. "RING." I could do it. I could do anything that proved Daddy wrong.

Marshal regarded me with a serious expression. "We can't be half-assed, Fujin," he said carefully, "and I can't promise I won't do something spontaneous if our butts are on the line."

I fought back the dread and the terror and just stared at him. _Go to hell, Daddy._ "RING."

He chuckled as he dug into the side pocket of his khaki's and pulled out a small platinum band with a bluish-white gem. "Hell if I knew a girl would be **demanding** a ring from me." He held the ring in one hand and gestured with the other for me to give him mine. "Don't have much luck with the ladies. Sally says it's because I work too much. Dincht says it's my face."

I regarded his hand with a dark and cold glare, one side of my face twitching with the intensity of the throb in my scarred eye. _'This's the only loving up you'll get, you little cu--'_ I twitched, and the rage boiled my brain as I reached my hand out and placed it in his. The touch of his skin on mine made my insides crawl, but I fought it back. Almost desperate.

"I don't know. I like my face. Nothing scary like Raijin." Marshal laughed and slipped the ring onto my finger. I felt his occasional glances before he let it go. I balled the hand into a fist and tucked it tightly under my crossed arm as I looked away. Revenge would be sweet.

"All right then. Backstory. Right." Marshal cleared his throat. "I think it'll need a little tweaking to explain some things. For example, if you'll notice in your history you used to work at a bookshop in Deling owned by your parents. We met at a book-club held at the shop and started dating thereafter. I think we better change it a bit to explain your eye. Why don't you let me take a look at it."

I looked over at him sharply. Marshal didn't lean back. He only motioned to my patch.

"Your eye. I need to see what will fit best as a backstory."

Explain my eye. How could anyone explain that? How could anyone believe what it stood for? Hell. Rage. A twisted relationship I had to survive. I tightened my balled fists and slowly uncrossed my arms. My entire head throbbed as I reached up to remove the leather patch.

"Okay," he said, almost matter-of-fact as he gave a slight nod. "That's not so bad to explain. Here. Give me the patch. You won't need it."

I blinked and asked "What" as the terror and rage halted and took a step back.

"Your patch, your patch." He took it from my hand and stuffed it into his shorts' side pocket.

I twitched and just stared at him.

Marshal looked up again. "Scarring's not that bad. The white of your eye's pretty cool, especially with the silver hair. Don't sweat it."

I stared at him--I glared.

He raised his hands in defense. "What? The patch won't jive with your 'shy, bookworm' persona. Just comb your hair down in front of the eye a little more. Here." He motioned to my head. "I'm gonna fix your hair."

I pressed my lips together, and I could feel my body go rigid as his fingers carefully brushed my hair into my face just enough to cover my eye. I fought back a shiver.

"There. See? Plays on that whole 'shy' thing. My sis always wore. . .her. . . ." He cleared his throat and sat back. "So, yeah, it'll work great. I'll give you your patch back later. Right now we'll leave it here on the transport."

Marshal turned and dug into a pack separate from his duffel. "I brought some cliff notes for your favorite genre of books--Oh. Your parents sold the bookshop and went on a cruise around the world in a yacht they bought with the money. The details are in your backstory." He straightened and presented the books. "Read up on these, especially the real-life stories of the author's. You're in to that."

I roughly took the books and started skimming through the first one. Historical dramatizations. Not one of my favorite things.

"I'm a freelance photographer," he offered up an expensive camera, "and we've been living at my apartment together for about four months, since your parents went on their little jaunt around the world. You're writing a novel or two and have a few stories published through Timber Maniacs. We're planning to buy the house on the proceeds from your novel's advance royalty check and the money we've saved this far. We've been saving since we started dating seriously eight months ago."

Marshal retrieved a small photo-album from his pack. I focused on it with a sinking feeling. "We're going to stop at select places en-route and take pictures of us together wearing different outfits and in different supposed climates. I hope you brought a swimsuit, because for our six-month anniversary I took you to that snazzy beach over by Dincht's orphanage. That's our first stop."

I set down the stack of books and stood, turning to exit the transport's cabin without a word. Once on deck I leaned heavily over the side and closed my eyes, breathing in deep to push back the nausea. It didn't work.

*

We stopped at Fisherman's Horizon for pictures pertinent to the backstory as I found and purchased a swimsuit. On our way to Edea's orphanage, I changed into a different outfit while Marshal waited on deck.

Now, Marshal came to stand beside me just outside the transport on Edea's beach. I glared and adjusted my crossed arms. It wasn't his fault. I was a hard-ass that couldn't back down. All my life I'd backed down, and when I had enrolled at Garden I promised to never do it again. Even if it would have been the better thing to do--

Marshal took a picture. I focused my glare on him. He lifted the camera. "Great first-date picture," he said, matter-of-fact.

I arched an eyebrow.

He lifted his hands, still holding the camera. "Swear. No blackmail." He offered forward the camera and brought up a preview of the picture. "See? And believe me, I've had a few dates that didn't look so great."

All I saw was my profile against the sky. I looked away.

"What?" Marshal examined the digital shot. "You don't like it?"

Scars and bled color. What was to like?

"Sure, I haven't taken photography, but I thought I took a pretty good shot." He smirked and raised his gaze to me. "Everyone's a critic."

I stepped forward onto the beach. _'Ugly freak. Get out of my face!' 'Why don't you do something about that freaky silver hair? You look like a hag!'_

'The white of your eye's cool, especially with your silver hair--'

"Okay. I figure we can get around three 'vacations' shot here."

I looked to my right. Marshal easily held my pace.

He motioned up near the orphanage building. "Grass and trees there." He pointed down the coast. "Boulders and caves there; Sally told me about some great inter-connecting corridors. Natural." Marshal stopped and motioned along both sides of the coast. "And the beach here." He put his fists on his hips. "We'll do the shots here last."

_Six month anniversary._ I clenched my jaw and headed toward the cliff steps. Marshal retrieved the blanket and picnic props from the transport pilot before stepping after me.

Picnics.

Walks on the beach.

Dinners by candlelight.

Never done. Now putting on a show to fool a possible saboteur. How could I convince anyone? I hadn't been allowed to show emotion for almost ten years. I hadn't been touched in five.

Marshal caught up to me midway up the cliff stairs. "All right. Here's the plan: we'll play on the 'shy' thing in the pictures. I'll do all the stupid things like make faces and jump off buildings and stuff. You keep with the somber and silent."

I sent him a sidelong glance, which he met.

"This is what I figure: you were in a car accident." Marshal motioned toward me. "That will explain your eye."

"DETAILS."

"You were on your way home from the bookstore after closing--New Year's Eve, almost eleven--and got clipped and rolled by a drunk driver who ran a signal near the arch there in Deling. It's a high-risk area. Most believable."

I gave a nod. Marshal was good; detail-oriented. Damn quick with solid explanations and stories. I had to reluctantly admit him to be as good as Seifer.

"Due to the accident and the eye injury, you kept to yourself and never got out much. Stayed with your folks and helped them with the bookstore. Two years later. . . ."

Marshal motioned for me to walk with him toward the grass and trees behind the orphanage. Careful not to touch, and careful not to invade my space. I regarded him with a sidelong evaluation and a slightly narrowed gaze.

"Two years later, my character enters the scene," he continued. "Just out of a bad relationship--she was caught cheating with my best friend--I decided to get out and meet new people in a completely different circle. 'Ex' was a model." Marshal snapped and pointed at me. "Hey. That'll work good. She flaunted, you didn't. Her beauty was skin deep, yours went further. Yeah." He absently nodded. "Good stuff. It'll make it believable." Marshal laughed. "Although why a silver-haired fox spends time with an ass like me will make them **all** suspicious--What?"

I had stopped and fully faced him at the unexpected--"FOX?" I queried.

Marshal's ears pinked, and he looked away as he rubbed at the back of his neck. Something I noticed he did when uncomfortable. "Oh. Uh, just a, erm--Never mind." He waved it away and stepped forward again. "Forget it."

I gauged his retreat with slowly crossed arms. I had been called a **lot** of things, but never _a silver-haired fox. Fox?_ My eyebrow twitched.

Marshal started spreading the blanket and then set up the prop picnic. I stepped forward. When I heard him mutter "Damn it, Marshal," my eyebrow twitched higher.

He set everything up and stood, retrieving the camera and making an absent gesture toward the blanket as he began adjusting the settings. "Go ahead and sit down. I'll get a couple shots of just you--act camera shy--and then I'll flub one of me trying to get in to the picture before the timer's up. You'll have to try and look shocked or something when that happens. Right. All set."

Marshal lifted his gaze from the camera, smiling. His smile vanished when he looked at an empty blanket, save the picnic props. He glanced to his left. I still stood off to one side, arms crossed as I stared at the blanket and all it entailed.

"What's the problem?" he asked simply.

Problem? I had to play the part of a loved and happy woman and he could ask that? I forced my feet forward, squashing the terror as I cautiously knelt on the plush flannel blanket. My fingers recoiled from the softness, and I just stared at the blues and burgundies of the plaid pattern.

"Fujin? You okay?"

Was I? Nobody ever asked--I clenched my jaw and looked up. "FINE."

Marshal smirked and briefly lifted the camera. "This won't believe you. You've got to relax or the camera will pick it up. Hm. Tell you what, let's try something." He motioned to me and then the blanket. "Lay on your stomach."

I regarded him warily before doing so.

"Okay. Now bend your knees and cross your ankles. Good. Now just fiddle with the--Bingo. Don't look at the camera--Perfect." The camera clicked. "Now why don't you just--"

I slightly looked up to get the instruction. He smiled and took a picture with an excited "Got it!" I arched an eyebrow.

Marshal previewed the pictures and gave a shake of his head. I could have told him the pictures wouldn't--

"You ever think of modeling?"

I blinked and looked him full in the face--I glared.

He laughed and raised his hands. "Okay, okay. Sorry I asked. I thought you'd take it as a compliment." He handed the camera toward me. "Your turn, and be kind."

I sat up and just looked at the camera. Kind. What did I know of that? I moved my gaze away. Survival. That was all I knew.

"Oh. Right. The out take. Okey Dokey." Marshal brought out a tripod and set the camera on it. Then he adjusted the settings. "Now, I'm setting a short timer so it'll catch my trip on the edge of the blanket. I'm not going to tell you what I'm planning, Fujin, so don't kill me. I need a somewhat shocked expression for the camera." He looked up and met my gaze, smiling wide. "I'll be the only one humiliated. Promise."

_'I won't do it again, baby. I promise--'_ I looked away.

"Ready?"

Marshal pushed a button on the camera and then hurried around to perform whatever antics he had planned. Before he reached the edge of the blanket, however, he caught his toe on the tripod leg. Marshal gave a strangled shout as he floundered head-first toward me and the picnic. I dodged and he flailed straight into the ambrosia salad. The camera was heard to click twice as it toppled onto its side and grinned at us.

Marshal roared with laughter, rolling onto his back to wipe the cream and topping from his face and eyes. I smirked and handed him a spoon. He took it and laughed harder. I didn't fault me my smirk, either. Marshal had both looked and sounded ridiculous. To his 'credit', the camera likely caught it all.

I stood and retrieved the camera. As suspected, it had a picture of Marshal falling head-first into dessert highlighted by an expression of muted surprise on my face. Picture number two, taken after the camera had fallen on its side, had caught a glowing shot of Marshal's butt as well as a slight smirk from me.

I looked up. Marshal had sat up and begun cleaning himself off with a fistful of napkins. "PERFECT."

"Thank you. I try." He motioned toward me while continuing to wipe down. "Why don't you take a couple shots of me cleaning off."

I moved to sit cross-legged on the blanket, lifting the camera for a shot just as Marshal sent a sidelong glance. He grinned, as camera-hogs tend to do, and I took that picture as well. Then I set the camera aside and started packing up the picnic.

"Hey, hey. Not so fast," Marshal protested. He took the plate of sandwiches from me.

"EXPLAIN."

"Explain what? This is a picnic. We **eat** the food." Marshal regarded me while he stuffed the soiled napkins into a sack packed along for refuse.

I held his gaze and deliberately crossed my arms.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked.

I looked at my watch.

"Don't give me that. We've got plenty of time. Here." He offered a small bowl of mixed fruit. "Have some. It's great stuff. Besides that, it's your new persona's favorite."

I took the bowl, accepting the fork with a frown. My idea of an investigation didn't involve picnics and laughter to woo the suspicious ones into a slip. I preferred dark rooms and one-word questions that cut to the chase. Maybe some 'persuasion' now and again.

I skewered a piece of melon and scoffed before eating it. _Seifer--ASS! If I'm your friend, why can't you leave me alone? Who gives a damn if it's been five years or fifty! I don't!_ And my father sure as hell hadn't. _Bastard._

I smirked as I skewered another fruit. _Not so tough when you know I can kick_ _your_ _ass, huh, Daddy? Not so free with the love when you know I might have had better than you'll_ _ever_ _be!_

I glowered and roughly set aside the bowl, bringing my hands up to rub the remembered gropes from my skin. No. Those memories would burn a lot longer. I couldn't even stand **Seifer** to touch me. _How would a man. . .how could--_ I pushed the nausea away and rubbed harder, but it never worked. The pain always lurked to remind--

"Fujin?"

I flinched and looked sharply to my left at the soft question. Marshal's expression held--I moved my gaze away.

"You okay?"

"FINE."

Marshal regarded me a moment. "You don't expect me to believe you, right?"

_I could care less._ I crossed my arms.

"Is it going to effect the mission?"

I clenched my jaw. "NO." _I can handle it. I always have._

"Fujin."

I glared at him. "WHAT."

"If you--if I can. . . ." Marshal released a quick breath as he looked away. "Never mind. Forget it." He started packing up the picnic this time. "Come on. Let's get cracking. We need to have these pictures done so we can head over to Deling and get shots of us in the city."

_Deling._ I hated the city. Nothing good ever happened there.

"Oh." Marshal sent a sidelong glance my direction as I stood and moved off the blanket. "I came up with, uh, an idea of, um. . . ." He rubbed at his neck with a muttered, "Damn it, Marshal," before looking me full in the face with a determined expression. "Between now and our arrival in Winhill tomorrow afternoon--we're staying in Deling City tonight--I'll be touching you on random occasions."

My expression went blank, my stomach in knots.

"A touch on the arm or shoulder or back. Nothing major. Just so you can get familiar with the idea and restrain the cringe or violent retaliation." Marshal grimaced. "Damn. That sounds--Look, Fujin, I get that you don't want anyone invading your space. I'm fine with that. That's why I'm pissed at Seifer for putting you up for this. Just bear with me and I'll back off when I can. Swear."

I glared, and Marshal's blink of surprise barely registered. "STOP."

"Stop what?"

But how could I put it into one word? I pressed my lips together.

Marshal regarded me with a slightly tilted head. Then he put down the picnic basket and crossed his arms. "Stop?" he urged.

_Stop treating me like a fragile little toy!_ The words practically rumbled within. I balled my hands into fists, fighting against the words for fear more would come-- _Fear. Fear! Damn it!_ My eye sparked as I brought a fist up to pound once on my chest. "NOT WEAK."

Marshal's eyes widened briefly. Then he frowned. "Hell no you're not weak, Fujin. I know that." He rested his hands on his hips. "I'm just trying to give both of us a chance to get used to the idea. I do the same thing every time I go under cover." He spat. "You said before you didn't want to be touched, so I wanted to give you a chance to transition past that. Who said anything about anybody being weak? You're the toughest lady on Security, and I'm just respecting your boundaries!"

Then he grabbed up the picnic basket in one hand, the blanket in his other, and strode back toward the cliff stairs. I regarded him with a slightly narrowed gaze. Respect. I hadn't heard that word very often. I lowered my gaze and picked up the camera and tripod. All these years I had fought for respect and position. Now, when it was offered, I slapped it down while accusing the person of saying I was weak. I pressed my lips together and stepped forward.

'You're the toughest lady on Security.'

Apparently, I was the only one who didn't know it.

I arrived at the foot of the cliff stairs to find Marshal changing out of his red t-shirt into a long-sleeved one of blue, all the while mumbling under his breath. I didn't say a word. I boarded the transport after leaving the camera and tripod on the beach. Then I changed into a pair of regular blue jeans and a long-sleeved denim shirt with a white tank-tee beneath. I changed from my sneakers into my hikers and then exited onto the beach.

Marshal sat in a beach lounge chair while turning the camera over in his hands. He now wore loose jeans and leather hikers as well as the long-sleeved cotton tee and a denim jacket. He looked somewhat normal--civilian even. I probably did, too. Except for the eye. I raised a hand to the scarring and lightly touched it with my fingertips. I had come to hate it. Daddy's last gift. A permanent reminder.

'the white of your eye's cool--'

I pushed it aside, lowering my hand from my face as Marshal looked up. He stood and met me half way. Then he handed me a flashlight and motioned ahead to the caves. I stepped forward, and he fell in beside me. After a moment or two of walking he took a picture of our steps. I glanced over at him to notice a slight, almost lopsided smirk. He didn't look over at me. He didn't explain. What he did do was take a picture of the set of steps behind us. Then he gave a brief nod and looped the camera strap around his neck. He tucked his hands into his pockets.

I continued to regard his profile.

"All right," he said suddenly, very businesslike. "From now on we call each other by our assumed names. That means no more Goddess of Wind for you and no geekdom for me. Just Ana and Bla--what?"

I had grabbed him by the arm and jerked him to face me. ". . .what?" I hissed.

"Ana and Blake," he repeated slowly. "You're Ana--your mom called you that--short for Ahndra--"

I released his arm and stepped back. I felt as if I'd been punched. Marshal watched the reaction with an odd expression. _Ahndra._ I shook my head as I stepped back again. I stumbled on a ridge of sand, but Marshal grabbed my flailing hands before I went down. I pulled my hands free with another slight shake of my head. I rubbed the touch away on my jeans. _No._ I swallowed back the nausea. _Ahndra. Ana._ What my mom had called me. . .before she died, leaving me with. . .him.

"What's the deal with the name?" Marshal asked carefully.

I lightly tapped my chest as I continued to stare at the ground, not trusting my voice or my control on the lurching of my stomach.

"Your name's. . . ?"

I slightly nodded, raising a hand to rub at my scarred eye. It throbbed.

Marshal swore under his breath. Then he released a deep breath. "Sorry," he said finally. "Everything has already been set up. I can't change it."

I could feel him watching. Studying. Gauging. It unnerved me--

"Tell 'em to screw off."

I lowered my hand and met his gaze. "What?"

"The memories. It's a nice name, and now we've got a better use for it then whatever asshole screwed with it last time."

I reluctantly smirked. _Hear that, Daddy? He hasn't even met you and he's calling you an asshole._

Marshal ducked his head down slightly, still holding my gaze as he reached out and gripped my upper arm. I twitched and pulled back. "All right?"

I curtly nodded.

We stepped again toward the caves. "I've got a question for you--please don't hit me too hard."

I sent him a sidelong glance. "ASK."

"Correction. Make that two questions. The first will get me a dirty look **at least** , so I'll ask the second. Can you lower your volume a little? Maybe add another word or two? I mean, I could add that you're slightly deaf, to your backstory I mean, but geez. I don't think you want **them** yelling at **you**."

I smirked again. "NO."

"No you don't want them yelling at you, or no you don't want to lower your volume? You see how frustrating it is to get one word hacked out of a sentence? And I'm a detail-anal'd person. I need a bit more than one word."

"TRY."

" **You'll** try? Or **I** should try to get over it? See how important that pronoun is?"

I clasped my hands tighter behind my back as I fought back an actual smile. My use of one word sentences had always been a form of control. Mind games, almost. My dad had only ever given me 'Yes' or 'No' questions. The world outside had been a lot different.

But a mission was a mission.

I took in a deep breath and said, "I will try." Marshal stopped. I twitched--I don't know why--and turned to face him. "WHA--" I took in another breath and tried again. "What?"

He pointed at me. "You have a--" His mouth clicked shut as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. His ears pinked. "Nothing."

Curiosity and intrigue arched my eyebrow.

Marshal cleared his throat. "The first question has to do with the 'touch' thing." I looked away. "Yeah. I know. But I'm curious--or something. Is it all kinds of touch? Or just one?"

My eyebrow arched again as I met his gaze. "EXPLAIN."

Marshal rubbed at his neck. "Explain," he mumbled absently. He shrugged. "I'll have to give an example, Ana--You okay? You went a little green."

I slightly nodded and fought back the memories and the nausea. Then I grabbed at my revulsion and presented my arm, sleeve pushed up. His question made me curious. Daddy never touched me softly or gently. It had always been rough and bruising. Did I react differently to one than the other?

Marshal rubbed his palms on his jeans before reaching out to hold my forearm in a normal grip. I twitched and had to pull my arm free and rub the crawling away. Marshal absently nodded. Curiosity grabbed me again and made me produce my arm a second time. The second hold felt as if it were barely there. There was a sudden whole-body shiver, but once that vanished there was only a slight, continued prickle. I arched an eyebrow.

Marshal removed his hand and gestured. "Rub it away. One more."

I rubbed the touch away, intrigue holding me by the throat, and then produced my arm a third time. When Marshal reached out this time, it felt like only air touched my skin. There was no shiver. No invasion. Nothing but a slight warmth.

"Okay. Now rub that away and close your eyes."

I rubbed the touch away while gauging Marshal's expression. There wasn't one as he focused on my arm. I closed my eyes and produced my arm yet again. The touch came to my shoulder. I twitched and grabbed the wrist and hand before I could even think. My eyes snapped open as I released my hold.

Marshal smiled and rubbed his wrist. "It's okay. I knew it was coming." He lowered his gaze to his wrist and the hand that rubbed it. "If you don't know where or when the touch is coming, self-preservation kicks in. As long as you can control the touch or can see it coming, it's not so bad. You have time to get ready. Except for hard or heavy touch. Bad memories come with that, so you can't take it. Light and normal were okay."

I blinked. _Normal?_

Marshal glanced my way and then nodded. "I know. You thought that first was 'normal', but it wasn't. Touch two was."

I looked down.

Marshal cleared his throat, drawing my gaze. "Come on. Let's go. I don't know about you, but I really want to see these caves."

But I didn't move. I kept staring at my hand and arm, wondering why all these years I had thought--Then again, why wouldn't I? I hadn't allowed anyone close enough to change my twisted views on normal contact. I knew they were wrong, that life wasn't like that. School in Deling City had shown me what 'normal' was. The couples. The friends. Arm in arm. Kissing. Hugging. Innocent touches that brought smiles instead of. . . .But I was a freak. Silver-haired from the age of fifteen. Now with a white eye--

'The white of your eye's cool, especially with your silver hair.'

'You look like a hag!'

I glared and lowered my arm, rage boiling within as I balled my hands into fists. _Screw off, Daddy!_ I raised my eyes to Marshal's. "AHND--" Deep breath. "Ahndra." _Bastard. You can't have the name anymore. It's_ _mine_ _!_

Marshal slightly nodded. "Sure." He smirked. "Can I call you that once the mission's over? I like it better than 'Fujin', not that it's lame or anything." I arched an eyebrow. "Oookaaay. I won't. Come on." He reached out for my upper arm while motioning forward to the caves with the other. "We're burning daylight."

I tensed and clenched my jaw, and at the contact I didn't cringe or twitch. I balled my hands into fists to keep from striking out.

Marshal glanced down at me with another smirk. "Good job."

I sent him a hard look and a carefully chosen "Don't be an ass."

He laughed. "Can't help it."

"Try."

He laughed harder, which I didn't really understand. I looked away. _'I like it better than 'Fujin'. . .' 'It's been five damn years.'_ I lowered my gaze to the ground. _'Hell no you're not weak.'_ Maybe one day I would believe it.

*

_A swimsuit._ I stared down at it with a blank look. It was light blue. One piece. Simple enough, but it showed too much--I clenched my jaw and began stripping. I didn't wear anything less than long sleeves and pants. Hadn't for a long time. Too hard to explain the bruises and scars. No one ever believed me anyway. Now I would get the same looks and whispers from people who thought they knew me. How would I explain the scars?

I swore and stepped into the swimsuit. Putting it on made me feel. . .naked. Like I waited for a grope or a touch. The fabric against my skin made me nauseous, like a million hands--I shoved it aside and stepped into a pair of black shorts. I knew the recoil and revulsion would be back. It was only a matter of time.

I grabbed my sunglasses and towel and stepped onto the beach. Marshal had stripped off his shirt and changed into a pair of black shorts with a wide yellow stripe around one leg. He was built a lot different than my dad. Somewhat naturally darkened skin. More athletic and less. . .massive--I pushed away the imagery. It only brought memories of his crushing weight--I pushed it away harder, my stomach lurching.

Marshal tossed another pebble into the ocean before looking toward the transport. He smiled and lifted a hand to wave, but then his face went blank and his arm dropped to his side.

I looked away and continued forward, fighting back the shame and the rage and humiliation. When I finally stood across from him, I threw the towel onto one of the beach chairs and slipped into my sunglasses before meeting his gaze--I blinked. He. . .smiled?

"What?"

Speaking in a 'lower volume' had become easier since the 90 minute jaunt in the cave, especially when speaking loud there had hurt because of the reverb. But I still preferred the one-word phrases.

His ears pinked as he looked away. "Nothing."

"Blake," I pressed, and even with saying it all through the cave adventure, it still sounded odd.

He laughed. " **Nothing**. You just look good in blue."

I leaned slightly back, totally and completely floored. Then I lowered my focus to my bare arms. _Scars._ I touched one to make sure the pale gash was there. _Yes. Scars. Doesn't he see them?_ I lifted my gaze, but he fiddled with the buttons on the camera.

I opened my mouth to comment when he lifted the camera and smiled wide.

"Say 'Green'." He took the picture--I barely had time to close my mouth--and then previewed it. "Damn." Marshal looked up. "I don't think this camera has taken one bad picture of you. **Me**? Different story."

I arched an eyebrow, something I did a lot when listening to Marshal.

His expression suddenly grew serious. "You ready?"

I pressed my lips together and slightly nodded. We had taken two or three pictures in the cave by way of 'rehearsal' that had consisted of Marshal's arm around my shoulders, or standing behind me with his hands on my arms, and one of us in the same position as the latter with my hands covering his. In retrospect, the smile had been easier than the bodily contact.

After each picture Marshal immediately gave me space. Going so far as to turn off his flashlight so I couldn't see him. Whether this helped or not I didn't know, but. . .now we had to do more of the same.

"Alright. Let's get this done." He motioned to the beach chair. "Why don't you have a seat while I fart and frolic and make an ass out of myself, you taking pictures of course."

I slightly nodded and turned to sit in the beach chair. When I looked up, Marshal was in the process of taking another picture.

I frowned and stuck out a hand. "Stop."

Click. "Perfect." He grinned and handed me the camera. "Hey. Don't give me that look. We need to have some not-so-happy pictures or we don't look genuine." He backed off toward the water, hands raised. "Swear."

I scoffed and then pointed at the ocean. "Go."

Marshal saluted. "But you still don't rank me." And then turned to high tail it into the water. He sounded a strangled shout. "Damn! This's cold!"

I lifted the camera and took pictures of his less-than-graceful retreat from the water. His teeth chattered as he bounded forward with his arms around his chest, sopping wet black hair in his eyes. "Wuss."

Marshal stopped and stared at me, mouth gaping as his lips slowly turned blue. I took another picture. Then he smirked and put his fists on his hips. "I could throw you in, you know. Then you could tell me again how much of a wuss I am."

I lifted my gaze and lowered the camera as I regarded him with a slightly narrowed gaze.

"Don't think I'll do it?" he asked, and he took a single step forward.

I arched an eyebrow.

"Not impressed, huh?" Marshal stepped closer and then passed the chair to go behind. I adjusted my position to watch. "How about I show you?" He lifted the beach chair--with me in it.

My eyebrow twitched higher. I didn't doubt that he would throw me in. I suppose I only wanted to see how. Point taken and proved. Quite impressive, too.

"Still not impressed? All right." He headed toward the water, chair in hands.

I turned back around, not noticing the slight smile on my face as I quickly gathered the camera and adjusted the settings for a close shot. Then I held it out at arm's length, feigned what I guessed was a frightened expression, and took the picture.

"Quick thinking, but having the camera is **not** going to save you. It's waterproof."

A fact I already knew. I tucked the camera into a pouch built into the side of the chair, sealed it shut, and then gripped the arms of the chair as Marshal stepped into the ocean. The water lapped at my toes. It was cold, but I had experienced worse-- the chair stopped. The smirk vanished as I adjusted my position to look behind. My gaze met Marshal's silver one.

"Aw come on," he complained. "You're supposed to kick, squeal, or **some** thing."

"Why?"

" **Because**. That's the whole reason we do crap like this. The girl pleads, we show mercy, and then they think we're heroes."

I blinked at him. Then I scoffed, but it sounded more like a snigger. I couldn't help it. His explanation sounded utterly ridiculous.

Marshal frowned. "And now she's laughing at me. Great. Not only does she think I won't do **this** \--" He heaved the chair forward, launching me into the water while holding onto the chair frame. I used the momentum to adjust my entry. When I surfaced a moment later, Marshal had positioned himself in the chair, in the water, and crossed his arms.

I wiped the wetness from my face as I slowly stood in the waist-deep water. "See?"

Marshal scoffed. "No shriek. No squeal. And you even did a more graceful entry than me. Damn." Then he uncrossed his arms and said "Gotcha!" as he snapped a picture.

I arched an eyebrow and forced a calm "Very mature."

He previewed the picture and released a quick breath. "Geez. You **still** look good. I think this camera is rigged."

My cheeks burned, so I turned away and stepped out of my now-wet shorts. I tossed them over my shoulder at him, hearing the splut as they landed on his head, and dove into the water.

_'Damned ugly freak--' 'Geez. You_ _still_ _look good.' 'You just look good in blue.' 'silver-haired fox' 'the white of your eye's cool. . . ._ ' I pushed all the voices away as I dove deeper, trying to escape something I didn't understand. But escape had never been an option for me. Not since escaping my dad. So I stroked for shore, trying to keep the thought of walking out strictly distant. When I made my way out, Marshal had re-setup the chairs and now read a book. It looked to be a 'who's who' of photography.

I balled my hands into fists as I continued forward. Still feeling naked and vulnerable. I nearly swore. But Marshal didn't look up. He continued to read and jot notes in the corners and margins. I reached my chair and took up the large pale blue towel to wrap it around me. Then Marshal lifted his gaze.

"Okay," he admitted with a smirk, "so I'm a wuss."

I returned his smirk but didn't look at him.

He stood. "Well, I guess we're off to Deling City then."

This time I met his gaze. "Why?" I knew we still needed those. . .other photos.

Marshal gathered the chairs and folded them up. "We've got plenty of pictures from here. Considering your persona's shyness. . . ." He glanced my direction. "We've got enough, Ahndra. Don't sweat it."

I stared after him as he lugged the chairs onto the transport. Then I wordlessly followed.

"In Deling we'll be staying the night at my supposed apartment," he continued. "We'll have dinner at a restaurant there and then leave tomorrow morning for Winhill on a privately chartered schooner." Marshal gestured to me. "I'll go on deck. You get changed."

And he went on deck as I continued to stare after him.
Chapter Seven

Different

I accepted my duffel from Marshal and turned away from the car. We had driven from the transport to Deling City, quizzing each other on different details from our new lives. The apartment we were to stay at that night was owned by the security division of the Network--Galbadia specifically--and used for situations such as this. The renter was named Blake Rankin, Marshal's assumed alias.

Apparently Marshal used it on a frequent basis, so the managers would recognize him on-sight and call him by name. How my presence was to be explained I didn't know. It didn't matter, either. It would be a one-night stay. I stared past the car rental facility into the streets of the bustling city. Loud. Busy. Everything I had come to despise. Yet here I was again, voluntarily returning to the city I hated. Thank Hyne it was only one night.

Marshal came to stand beside me. "Okay, love-bug. Let's go." I glared at him. He chuckled. "Okay, okay. No stupid pet names." His expression grew serious as he presented a hand. "What do you want for dinner?"

I momentarily balled my hands into fists before reaching out to take his. I fought back the shiver and everything else. _This is my mission. My_ _mission_ _._ "Salad."

We struck out toward central Deling and Marshal/Blake's apartment.

"Salad?" he asked, apparently concerned. "You not feeling well?" He really played up the part of devoted fiancé.

One of the couples we passed continued to stare. I clenched my jaw and **just** kept from giving them a cold glare.

"You want to stay in tonight?" Marshal asked.

Another few people passed. Stares. Whispers. I balled my hands into fists and felt a returning grip in one. It started again. Because of my hair and the scars. . .and now my eye. I would always be seen as a freak. "Yes," I said through clenched teeth.

"Sure thing. I'll order in, and we can grab a movie on the way."

Another whisper. A stifled gasp. Rage boiled, but I fought it back. Deling had always been Daddy's city. The bars and clubs. The women. The noise. That's why I hated it. Because it treated me the same as he had.

"I know we were only gone the weekend, but it feels longer. What about you?"

_Me? It feels like forever._ I forced my hands to loosen. "Five years."

Marshal regarded my profile before releasing a deep breath and scrubbing at his scalp of black hair with his free hand. "Shit." He looked over at me again. "Sorry. Didn't know," he whispered.

No. He didn't. Only Seifer knew, and that only because he had been there. I wouldn't have told Marshal. I didn't tell anyone anything. It had always been better that way.

We stepped into a video rental place and looked through the maze of shelves and racks. At one point I thought I saw my father in the adult movie section and went rigid, my brain and body bombarded with images and memories of screams and pain--I cringed and hunched as I again balled my hands into fists. The returned pressure immediately came again.

"This one looks good. I've heard great stuff about it. Come on."

So we rented the video and stepped out, me leaving the images and screams behind as we again headed for 'home'.

Marshal sent me a long glance, but I didn't meet it. I only stared ahead, trying to stay calm as we walked closer and closer to those apartments I had lived in, losing my entire childhood and young womanhood to a man filled with hate and anger at the loss of his wife. The reminder of his child. The guilt at the blame--I clenched my jaw tighter and pushed it back, but each step toward the apartments made its fight against me stronger. It wouldn't be ignored. I had faced my father. I had told him how I felt about what he'd done. But now I had to--I flinched. I couldn't do that. Anything but that.

"Ahndra?"--And I still heard Daddy's voice mixed with Marshal's--"Are you okay? You look a bit green."

". . .fine."

_'Damn it, Ahndra!_ _I can't hear you!_ _'_ slap--I flinched. Marshal kept sending me glances, but I wasn't going to say it. _No,_ I hissed. _I won't!_ _'What did you say to me, girl?'_ smack--I cringed and released Marshal's hand. He covered by switching the video bag to that hand and retrieving his apartment keys.

"Home sweet home," he said, and he turned to climb the entry steps into 'Haven Apartment Homes'.

I looked to my left with a cold stare. My old apartment was across the street. I fisted my hands and turned away to follow Marshal up to the second floor. First door on the left. I stepped into the apartment and immediately felt as if I didn't belong. The apartment was brightly lit. Landscape photographs on the walls. Bright and colorful furniture. Spotless carpet. Everything looked as if it had been taken from my childhood dollhouse--

Marshal set his keys on the kitchen counter, drawing my attention. He pulled a handheld from his back pocket as he set down the video. "Here, Ana. Why don't you set this up while I try and find the phone book."

I scrambled for my calm and control as I stepped forward to retrieve the video. He began scanning the apartment for foreign or unapproved technology. I stared down at the video and then set it back down. Marshal continued to send me glances.

I turned and headed for the only bedroom. "I'm tired," was all I said.

After the door closed, I leaned against it in terror and horror and panic. I tried to fight against them, but I knew I was drowning. I had faced my father, thereby opening Pandora's Box. Now my inner-demons wanted to play. I fisted my hands before pushing away from the door to stand in the middle of the bedroom, remembering those images I hated the most. _No. No!_ It wasn't my life. Hadn't been for five years. I wasn't going to accept it back. I was Seifer's second-in-command. I was part of a team. I wasn't his Ahndra anymore.

"Go to hell," I hissed.

tap-tap-tap "Ahndra?"

I flinched and turned as the door was tried and opened, letting in the light of the hall. Marshal signaled one unidentified device in the main room. "Ana, I'm going to stay up and watch the movie. I'll try and keep it down. Okay?"

"Okay."

He regarded me a moment as he scrubbed at the back of his neck. "Good night."

"Night."

He hesitated another moment before closing the door. I turned away and got ready for bed. Night. I hated the night. Dreams came at night. **He** came at night.

...a small apartment in a bustling city... Deling City. Traffic sounds invade the sleeping silence of a young teen's room. The fumbling of a key in the lock of the front door doesn't wake her. Neither does the unsteady twist of the knob. The door is pushed open to reveal the reddened face of a man in uniform. He staggers forward, glazed eyes searching the apartment as he wipes spittle from his lips with the back of his hand. His glazed eyes struggle to focus on the first room down the hall.

He smirks and staggers forward.

The young teen within still sleeps.

The man--her father--stumbles into the doorway, leaning hard against the frame as his eyes focus on the slight form in the small bed. The glaze in his eyes changes as he steps forward and rips the covers from the bed. The young teen gasps and looks up, eyes widening in terror as she focuses on the expression of the man standing over her.

"Ana."

"No. . .please," she cries softly, scrambling backwards.

He grabs her ankles and yanks her roughly toward him.

"Come on. . .Ahndra."

"You know you want it." He pulls her closer, one hand groping to remove clothes as she pushes and cries.

"No! No, I don't. I don't! STOP!"

His face looms closer, his breath hot against her face as his weight presses against her--

I screeched and pushed away from the touch, my eyes wild.

"Easy. Easy. It's me," Marshal soothed with hands raised. He was sitting on my side of the bed.

I moved my gaze away and covered my face with my hands as I tucked my knees to my chest. ". . .damn it." My body shivered as my insides crawled. The pain burned so clear. The crushing weight--I choked and shook my head, desperately trying to shake his hold off my mind. Why did he have so much power? Why couldn't I be free? What did I have to do to get his touch **off**? I lowered my hands and slipped off the bed, pushing Marshal out of the way. He didn't resist, and he didn't say anything as I made my way into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, cranking up the hot water as I stepped in, fully clothed in a long-sleeved t-shirt and leggings.

I huddled in the corner as the hot water splashed against my face and head, burning and then cooling through my clothes and against my skin. Again I tucked my knees to my chin, wrapping my arms around my legs as I hid my face there. I heard Marshal come into the bathroom after, but I didn't care. I didn't want to feel that touch anymore. I didn't want that to be the only touch I remembered. I didn't want it. . . .

Marshal stepped into the shower while whispering "I'm gonna hold you, Ana" and kneeling down to do just that. I tensed but didn't move. **He** did. He moved to sit behind me, wrapping his arms around me and my legs and arms. The recognizable whole-body shiver came and went, followed by the continued prickle.

Different.

No crushing weight.

No revulsion as I was violated--

I choked again, and the arms adjusted themselves around me. Somehow erasing a memory. Burning away the burning. Giving something else to remember. . .so I could finally sleep.
Chapter Eight

Puzzles

"We're coming up on Winhill."

Marshal stepped down into the cabin wearing ivory linen slacks and some kind of lightweight shirt of the same color. Due to the near transparent nature of the shirt, he wore a pale blue tank-tee underneath. His black hair stood up, slightly spiked. I still didn't understand the reason men liked spikes.

He sat across from me at the table in the schooner's kitchen and pulled out his handheld, again scanning for unknown technology. He had done the same when we first boarded, but it had registered only an unknown device. Due to the fact the Network constantly updated their database and, consequently, the information available via satellite link to the handheld, it was always wise to re-scan.

Marshal had done the same at the apartment this morning.

The apartment.

I slightly frowned. That morning he made no mention of the dream or the shower the night before. He hadn't even said anything when I woke in the middle of the night, still in the shower. The entire time I dried off I expected him to ask 'What's the deal?' He hadn't. He simply exited the bathroom after giving me a slight squeeze on the arm.

I laid awake most of the night wondering why. Seifer would have asked. Raijin would have as well. Hell. **I** would have asked.

"You excited?" he asked now, in character of course. "I've heard there are some great houses here."

I briefly looked up from my sketched notes of the rough plan. A. . .spontaneously evolving evaluation/investigation. I looked back down again.

"Come on, Ana. Don't look so glum. I'm sure we'll find something."

I wanted to find the suspicious characters in record time. "I hope so," I said, in what I supposed was a 'shy' tone.

Marshal nudged me under the table with his knee. I didn't acknowledge his nudge, not even with another glance. "You'll see. It'll be fun."

I slightly frowned again. _Winhill._ Its quiet rubbed me the wrong way. Just as Deling City's noise.

"We'll book into the inn first thing. Then we'll go walk around and see what's to see."

Marshal set down the handheld with a slight shake of his head and a brief motion to the communication center positioned behind him, the action smoothly hidden by him running his hand through his spikes. They bounced back.

My eyebrow twitched. "All right."

"Did you want to go anywhere special?" And he motioned to the list in my hands with a movement of his eyes.

"The empty lots?"

"Why? You think we should build instead of buy?"

"Possibly."

Marshal smirked and rested his chin in his hand, elbow resting on the table. "Keeping all your options open? Or is there something you're not telling me?"

"Hm?" I'm sure my innocent expression was laughable.

"Look, Ahndra, chicklit," I blinked and looked up, "if you want a house **built** , we can contact a surveyor and have them scope out the possibilities." Marshal smiled. "Not a problem."

I arched an eyebrow. Marshal was definitely good at double-talk. "You sure?" I looked back down to my list, read it over, and sketched a few more notes. To all intents and purposes I hoped it looked as if I worked on my novel.

"Sure I'm sure. Sometimes building a house is cheaper anyway."

_Unless the landowners are holding out for a big payoff from the Network._ "Thank you."

"You bet, chicklit. Oo. Looks like we're here. Let's grab our gear." Marshal stood. "Here let me get that."

He heaved both duffel straps over his shoulders. I sent him a protesting glare, but he shrugged and smirked and winked before promptly going on deck. I pressed my lips together and stood, slipping the note into the back pocket of my white denim shorts. I grimaced, slipped into my white canvas deck shoes and glared down at my pale blue tank-tee. I hated plain clothes. I grabbed my purse-- _Damn you, Seifer!_ \--and my overnight bag as I headed toward the steps on deck. Marshal whistled and I forced a sweet smile. But whether or not anyone believed it was a different story.

Marshal motioned toward the dock as he gestured for me to stand beside him. "Check it out! A photo waiting to happen!" And he promptly readied his camera while verbally prodding me to get in the perfect spot for the perfect picture. I did my best to shyly smile. Considering I didn't smile very often. . . .

Picture taken, I turned and focused on Winhill. Mission objective: further investigation into the surveyor as well as the two landowners who hadn't appeared for their scheduled interviews the previous week with Sally Regal and Zell Dincht. Operation: Any means necessary to discover plots, plans, and purposes. Threat: sabotage of a possible Garden facility.

Marshal came to lean one arm against the railing as he stood beside me. "Hey. You ready?"

_For an investigation? Hell yes!_ I looked over at him with a 'shy' smile. "Yes."

Marshal grinned and motioned to shore with a slight tilt of his head. "Come on. Let's go."

We loaded up yet again, me carrying my own duffel this time, and traversed down the plank to the shore below. Then we started the somewhat long hike to the town itself.

"You love this stuff, huh?"

I adjusted my duffel as I asked, "What?" The way it rode on my hip pulled my shorts to an even **less** comfortable level.

"The adventure. The mystery. All the tension." I looked over at him to notice his smile. Marshal motioned my direction. "You should have seen the twinkle in your eye on the ship."

I couldn't tell if he ridiculed me or not. "So?" I responded slowly.

Marshal laughed. "'So' nothing. I just noticed is all. Sally loves a mystery, too, but she's more for the subtle ones. Not really a head-to-head person like you and me." He shook his head, still smiling wide. "She's growing a spine, though. 'Course I guess she had to what with working under Seifer and you and having Dincht as a boyfriend." Marshal sent me a glance. "I used to have a thing for her. She didn't know. I didn't have time. She was wacky about Dincht anyway. Didn't have a chance in hell."

I arched an eyebrow. I could see Sally with Marshal as much as I could see her with Seifer. I scoffed and looked away.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"NOTHING."

Marshal cleared his throat, by way of reminder. I pressed my lips together.

"Oh really?" he pressed. "Something tells me you don't think much of Sally."

I adjusted my duffel and tightened my grip on the strap. "As security?" I responded, tone carefully under control. "No."

"What? Ahndra, she's the best natural Network Task Force cracker-hacker I've seen. And she's damned tenacious! How can you say she shouldn't be on security?"

I briefly pressed my lips together.

Marshal regarded me. "I'm not guessing my way through this one."

I frowned and stopped. Marshal halted and faced me the same moment I faced him. "Regal performs research and questions. Security involves investigation and reaction. Regal prefers one over the other."

Marshal shook his head. "Nope. You're wrong." I clenched my jaw. He stretched out a hand. "Give me a second before you bash my mouth in. Sally researches, sure. She asks questions, hell yes. But she reacts the same as you or me, only it's on computer or via report to you or Seifer. You know it, too. Anyone who reads her reports and her suggestions of action can **tell** she thinks out each possible consequence for each possible reaction.

"So she doesn't do Black Ops, or whatever the hell we call it nowadays. She fries crackers at their computer and then sends people like you and me after them, recognizing her limitations and using it to involve the rest of us." Marshal shook his head. "No. No, she **belongs** on security the same as you do. You're both damned important. In fact, you and I wouldn't be here without Sally's job at Garden."

I looked away, my jaw muscle twitched. _'Recognizing her limitations.'_ How could admitting a weakness be good?

Marshal nudged my leg with his duffel, drawing my gaze. "Come on. We've got quite a jaunt, and I'd like to take a shower before walking around town."

As we started forward again, I noticed his continued glances. It wasn't something I was familiar with. Everybody at Balamb Garden gave me a wide birth. Even Raijin avoided me whenever possible. Seifer was the only other person who didn't take my attitude as seriously as I wanted him to. As he said, he pushed and pushed hard. Supposedly for my own good, but I began to wonder if he did it just to piss me off. I very nearly scoffed aloud. I noticed another glance and realized I tapped my fingers in an absent rhythm against my duffel strap. I ceased.

Marshal pushed buttons, but it wasn't the same. And what irritated was the fact I couldn't categorize the difference. When I put him up alongside Seifer to do just that, I didn't **understand** the difference. To put it bluntly, Marshal got away with more than Seifer even attempted--I pressed my lips together. _It's my mission._ And I knew that. It still didn't explain something. Something I didn't know how to ask or even bring to mind. Which irritated the hell out of me.

"Hey, Ahndra?"

I halted, twitching as I looked over at him sharply, eyes a little wide.

Marshal stopped as well. "What?"

I shook my head and looked away again. "Nothing." Exactly. I hadn't heard it. I hadn't heard the hint of my father's voice in the name. "Nothing," I muttered again. It was the first time.

He remained quiet a moment before asking, "Is it okay if I keep on with the 'chicklit' thing? I like how it sounds, for realism I mean. Tell me to 'screw off' if it rubs you wrong."

I again tapped my fingers on the duffel strap in my hand on my shoulder, staring down the road and not knowing how I felt one way or the other. I hadn't ever had anything but 'Ahndra' and the dozens of other nouns and adjectives a child should never hear. I didn't cringe when he said it, but what did that mean? If anything.

I pressed my lips together. "It's fine." _It's better than bitch or whore or slut, isn't it?_

"Okay," he said slowly, and I could feel him watching me.

Seifer watched that deep, _didn't he_? I didn't know. I never noticed. I never cared--"Thank you." My eyebrow twitched after I said those words. I didn't know why I said them. I looked over at Marshal. His expression showed calm seriousness. Maybe he knew.

"No problem, Ahndra."

_What wasn't?_ "Others would have asked." _Asked what?_

Marshal slightly nodded, his gaze still holding mine. "I know," he acknowledged carefully, "but you didn't need more questions."

I looked away. No. I hadn't. In the shower. This morning. On the ship. Now. I stepped forward again; Marshal matched my pace. _No. I didn't. I had enough._ Questions that wouldn't ever be answered. Answers that would never have questions.

Marshal sent another glance. I met it. "What."

He shook his head, and his ears pinked as he said, "Nothing."

"You are not a good liar."

"You'd be surprised." Marshal sent me another sidelong examination. "Just trying to put together a puzzle piece by piece."

I arched an eyebrow as I continued to watch his profile. Intrigue fluttered. "A puzzle?"

Marshal chuckled as he pointed out a pothole in the road. I stepped around it. "Gotcha with that, huh?" He briefly glanced. "I like puzzles. Mysteries. I like trying to explain why things are the way they are."

"Why?"

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "A challenge. A way to see truths about ourselves. A way to learn something deeper." Marshal glanced my direction a couple times. "An answer to a question."

"What question?"

Marshal's expression grew serious, which fanned my intrigue. He cleared his throat. "What. When. Why. How." Marshal sent another glance and held my gaze longer this time. "How," he said again.

I regarded him a moment. "Questions for whom?"

"Me." He shrugged again. "Like I said, it's a challenge-thing I do."

"A game?"

Marshal squinted ahead. "Sometimes. Not always."

I silently studied him, intrigued beyond **anything** I knew before. A game that wasn't always a game. A challenge to learn something deeper of himself while piecing a puzzle of someone else. "Do you ask?"

Marshal looked at me. "Ask? Ask what?"

"The questions."

He blinked. "For the puzzle?" I curtly nodded. Marshal smiled, and I never understood why. "Sometimes. It depends on the puzzle."

"How can you solve without the asking?"

"Observations. Listening. Looking beyond what's said and shown. There's always a story beneath."

My eyes narrowed as I held his gaze. Then I looked away. I knew a lot of hidden stories.

"I can give you an example," he said quietly.

I focused on his profile. "Example?"

"Finding a hidden story by observing." Glance. "I have an example."

I waited, silent.

Marshal slightly smiled as he continued staring ahead. "Sally. Perfect example. Walks with a slight--very slight--limp. Has a specially designed chair at her desk in the security office. Has trouble breathing--well, a slight wheeze and puff--on cold days. Has a scar behind her left ear and on her collar bone toward the right." Marshal glanced toward me. "I figured she was in a major accident, so I asked."

"And?"

"Getting her to tell me was like pulling teeth, but I was right. Remember Garden's transformation when Galbadia launched the missiles?"

I nodded slowly. I hadn't been there, but I had heard and read the reports.

"And remember the Galbadia Garden attack just after? Well, Sally got caught under a falling bookcase while pushing some junior classmen out of the way." Marshal met my surprised expression. "She minimizes it, but I have a gut feeling she almost didn't make it."

I looked away, shocked. Sally Regal hadn't seemed--

"Yeah, there's always a hidden story waiting to be found. A person just has to take the time." Glance. "It's worth it."

My expression hardened. "Not always."

He continued to gauge my profile. "I haven't found one yet that I regret knowing. Like I said, there's something to learn about ourselves in each story."

And what had I learned in my life's story? Family blood means nothing. 'Love' is a way to torture a child. Mercy for the young doesn't exist. My story held nothing but rage and regret.

Marshal released a deep breath and looked away. "Yep. Definitely a lot to learn," he said softly.

_'Won't you_ _ever_ _learn?'_ smack--I gripped the strap of my bag. What I had learned I did my best to forget.

"If you want," Marshal spoke up suddenly, "you could try with me."

I met his gaze. "Try?"

"The puzzle. The 'game'." He shrugged and looked away. "Just a thought to keep you from getting bored."

But Seifer already confessed Marshal's hidden stories. There wouldn't be a challenge because I already knew the puzzle. I looked away.

"Ouch," Marshal said, smiling. "I'm not that interesting, huh?"

"I have your puzzle."

Yet that statement didn't quite ring true. I had a picture of his past, but I still didn't understand him. He was still a puzzle.

Marshal's smile vanished. "What're you talking about?" His tone had changed. It rang almost wary.

For some reason, I didn't want to tell him **how much** I knew. That came as a mild surprise. Bluntness had always been both shield and sword for me. Marshal halted me with a hold on my arm as he watched my face. I continued to stare ahead.

"Ahndra," he pressed, "what do you mean you have my puzzle?"

I pressed my lips together before simply stating, "Seifer."

Marshal's hand dropped from my arm and he swore. I faced him. He glowered, hand clenching the strap of his duffel over his shoulder. He briefly pointed at me. "You didn't need to know." He turned away. "That damn--Shit!"

"Why?" Marshal grumbled under his breath as he ran a hand through his spiked black hair. "Why?" I asked again. I didn't understand why he would invite me to solve his 'puzzle' and then say I didn't need to know. "Blake," I pressed in a firm voice, but he still didn't face me. I frowned. "I would not work with you if he hadn't told me."

Marshal focused his scowl on mine. "What the hell are you talking about? Ahndra, there was **no** reason for him to say **anything**. It's **my** life and not his damned security file to pass out whenever--" He pressed his lips together. "You didn't need to know that. What the hell difference did it make?"

" **You** are the only one who understands." Marshal's frown disappeared, forced away by his blink of surprise. I looked away. "I would not work with you if he hadn't told me," I repeated, and then I stepped again toward the inn.

Marshal followed after a muttered, "Damn it, Marshal," which had become so familiar.

No. If I hadn't known about Marshal's own hell, I wouldn't have agreed to the mission. Seifer knew it. And a part of me was glad he knew me that well. Some days I felt he knew me better than I did. Better than I ever wanted to.

"Ahndra." jog-jog-jog "Ana, wait."

I halted. I understood the shame and humiliation at having something like that revealed. I likely would have killed Seifer--or done my best--if he told Marshal **any** of my past.

He came to stand beside me. "I'm not mad at you. I figure you know that, but I need to say it. Anyway, I'm sorry for blowing up at you."

But Marshal didn't hold a candle to my dad's temper. I met his gaze. "It's fine."

Marshal nodded. "I know. I kind of figure you've seen worse tempers than mine, but I was still out of line."

"Why?"

"Why. . . ?" he pressed.

"Tempers."

Marshal's eyes traveled my face. Then he reached up toward my eye. I tensed and tightly gripped my duffel strap to keep from stepping back.

He lowered his hand without touching. "I've seen the signs before. I see a lot, being chief of security. Even had to boot some people out because of rough stuff." Marshal lowered his gaze and then looked away. "Beat the crap out of an ass once who slapped his girlfriend around. Got written up because of it, but I didn't give a damn. I did what I had to do."

'I'm going to kill you, you sack of shit.'

I examined Marshal's face. I understood about that. Doing what one had to do to survive. Seifer and I had been doing that for years. I looked away once Marshal moved his gaze back to me. _'Beat the crap out of an ass once who slapped his girlfriend around.'_ Yes. Seifer had done that, too. Marshal and Seifer were a lot alike. Maybe that was why--I slightly shook my head and stepped forward. Marshal followed beside.

"What exactly did he tell you?"

"Galbadian soldiers gang-raped your sister in Dollet. You were beaten and forced to watch. You enrolled at Galbadia and plotted retaliation. Joined as chief of security once administration changed."

Marshal scrubbed at his scalp. "Right." He released a quick breath. "Oh hell. I guess that makes me a damned 'tortured soul'. Girls go for that." I sent him a dubious look. He laughed. "Okay, **most** girls go for that. But hey, it's fine with me. I don't want any pity or 'Oh, you poor man.'" Marshal grimaced. "Poor man." He spat. "Hell no."

I smirked. No. Definitely not a phrase I would choose.

We arrived at the inn a few minutes later. Marshal checked in, we had a previous reservation, and then received the key from the clerk and directions on where to find the room. We assured the clerk we could handle our luggage ourselves and then made our way up the stairs and to the room.

"Oookaaay." Marshal set down his duffel and pulled his handheld from the side-pocket. "I'm going to send an email and let them know we got here."

Marshal began scanning the room for audio/visual devices as I made my way to the dresser across from the large bed in the one bed room. I kept my gaze away from it.

"They're expecting a portfolio of pictures within the next couple days. Did I tell you?"

"Yes." I began unpacking.

"I figured the extra work would be great for our nest egg. Maybe it'll help us build a bigger house?"

"That would be nice." I set a framed picture of the two of us onto the dresser and stared at it.

"Where **is** that email address?" Marshal made his way toward me, still scanning. "You saw me type it in here, right?"

"Yes." I turned from the picture and began unpacking Marshal's duffel into the other dresser.

"Don't tell me--" Marshal stopped speaking so abruptly that I straightened and looked over at him. He raised his eyes to meet mine.

"What's wrong?" I didn't like the look on his face.

"I forgot to return the video."

My insides crawled. That statement meant our room had been compromised with both video and audio devices. We would need to either find a believable way to get a different room, or play up the engagement in the verbal **and** visual realm.

Requesting a different room would look suspicious, especially since it appeared someone **knew** we were coming. That was the only way to explain the listening devices in our apartment in Deling City and on the schooner chartered for our trip here.

I turned away and grabbed a pair of Marshal's jeans. _Damn it._ "We can call to extend the rental, Blake. It will be all right." _I can do this. I can do this._

"Oh. Right. Of course." He rubbed at the back of his neck as he glanced my direction. I could feel it.

"Send the email before you forget." My eyes focused on the framed picture of us as a couple. My mouth went dry. Engaged and living together for four months. First night of vacation--I knew what it meant. I looked down at the pair of jeans clutched in my hands. It was my mission. I had to do it. I couldn't let Daddy screw it to hell.

Marshal stepped up to me and took the jeans from my hands. "I'll send it later. We just got here, so they probably won't expect an email until tonight." He rested a hand on my shoulder. I looked up. "You look tired, chicklit. Why don't you take a nap while I finish?"

I absently nodded and turned away, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Marshal began unpacking, whistling. _'You want it so bad, I'll sex you--'_ I laid on my side and tucked my legs to my chest, arms wrapped around myself as I squeezed my eyes shut. I expected to remember the weight and the smell and the pain--but it didn't come. There were only the words that I could force silent.

'I'm going to hold you, Ana.'

I opened my eyes and rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling. _Why did--_ I blanked my mind. It didn't matter. Any memory, no matter the reason, was preferable to that of my father.

Marshal closed the dresser drawer and passed the bed to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower, Ahndra. I'll let you know when I'm out."

The door closed and a few moments later I heard the sharp sound of water on tile. I blinked, remembering again the touch felt. The water and the warmth of his body next to mine. Arms trying to protect me from something he didn't know. It had been different. Burning away a burning. Giving me a new memory--I closed my eyes and covered my face with my hands. A new memory that felt so much. . .better.
Chapter Nine

Hate

"Wow."

I focused on Marshal at the statement. He had climbed the fence that encircled the perimeter of a large field. Now he sat on the top rail surveying all there was to see, which included chocobos in a far field, at least an acre of wild flowers, and a large stretch of meadowland. The meadowland lay between the wild flowers and the chocobo field and happened to be the prospective site for the proposed Garden.

"Dincht said Winhill ranked high in the country-factor, but I didn't imagine this. Man!" Marshal met my gaze. "Dincht's trying to grab a place up here. I don't know what he'll do if the plans fall through." He shrugged and looked back to the chocobos. "Maybe he'll do it anyway, what with what I think is going on between him and Sally."

I raised an eyebrow as I looked back to the field, but I didn't comment. The growing connection/attraction between Zell and Sally over the past few months had been grotesquely obvious. In fact, Zell's visits to the security section were annoying. But they didn't seem to hinder Sally's work, and that was the only reason I didn't report her to Seifer. In my opinion, personal visits to the security section should have been banned or severely restricted.

"I wonder when they're going to send invites for the party? I hope I'm going to get one. Dincht said it's going to be a restricted list, but Sally and I go a ways back. Say, I could bring you if I get the invite."

Parties didn't interest me. They never had. They never would. "No. Thank you."

Marshal faced me. "What do you mean? Sally's turning the big 2-0. It's going to be a big deal: dancing, loud music, great food. You should come."

"Why?" We had been walking around the fields and properties for 30 minutes without mishap or accidental--or not-so-accidental--meetings with the landowners. And we had made sure that the clerk in the inn knew of our intent to buy.

"Why? Because it's a party! A great way to relax."

I nearly scoffed.

"Come on, Ahndra. It should be fun. Just come for, say, an hour or so. Then I'll take you home. Swear."

I crossed my arms and squinted into the distance. _'Come on, Ahndra. It's just a meteor shower. It'll be fun to watch. I'll take you home after. Swear.'_ I balled my hands into fists as I frowned. But the guy hadn't wanted to watch the sky. _Jocks. They always try the hardest score._ This time I did scoff.

Marshal chuckled. "Ahndra, damn. I'm more fun than you think."

I met his amused gaze and looked away again. "I'll pass."

"Will you at least **think** about it first? I really--" I sent him a glare. He raised his hands. "Okay. Okay. 'No' means 'No' and not 'Maybe'. Got it." Marshal pushed himself off the fence to land on the other side. "Come on. Let's trudge around a bit and see if we can attract some attention."

I began climbing the fence. Marshal immediately stepped up, reaching out to 'spot' me as I climbed up one side and sat on the top rail as he had done. "Stop," I protested as I sent him a glare.

"And risk you breaking your neck? Hell no!" He motioned with his fingers. "Jump. I'll catch you." I scoffed. "Ahndra, will you just--Here." He put his hands on my waist. I stared at him in shock. "Now put your hands on my shoulders."

Instead, I put my hands on his wrists and pushed his touch away. My skin hadn't crawled--"I can do it."

"I know, but we need to keep up appearances--" He met my annoyed gaze. "I know you know that. So we'll just do it this way." He smirked, and his silver eyes--"I'll let you jump off the next fence."

My eyebrow twitched, but I didn't resist his second gentle grip on my waist. I just clenched my jaw, put my hands on his shoulders, and let him help me down. Once my feet hit the ground, I immediately stepped back.

Marshal released my waist and offered forward a hand while asking "Where did you want to go first? Chocobos?"

I wiped my palm on my white denim shorts before accepting his hold. "Fine."

Marshal adjusted his hold on my hand to what seemed so light--I stepped forward. We had noticed a farmhouse of a sort near one of the back portions of the chocobo field.

"Ahndra," Marshal reminded quietly, "we've got plenty of time. Slow down." I pressed my lips together and adjusted my pace. "Oh." He pulled his handheld from the back pocket of his denim shorts. "I forgot to show you this." He brought the phone around so that I could see the display screen. "You might find this interesting. I know I did. Check out the version date on the video hardware in our room at the inn."

I took the handheld with my left hand and then met Marshal's gaze. "Old Garden technology. Three versions."

"At least." Marshal gestured to the handheld screen again. "Notice the info finally received on the tech in the apartment and on the schooner? Same, just audio."

I looked to the screen, reading the information and processing it. "Black market?"

"That's what I thought at first, too." He accepted the handheld back and slipped it into his pocket again. "I checked the serials and versions. None of these particular models were stolen. These were made during the first part of the battles with Galbadia five years ago. I wonder. . . ."

Marshal looked off into the distance, and his hand tightened slightly on mine. I watched his facial reaction with a tickle of intrigue and curiosity.

"What?" I allowed myself to ask.

He lowered his gaze to the greenery at our feet. "Just thinking about things I've heard at Galbadia Garden over the past three years." He sent me a sidelong glance. "Let me think about it some before I answer."

My eyebrow twitched, but I let him have his silence.

Marshal cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck. "You want to have dinner at the inn's restaurant tonight? It comes with the room."

I frowned and looked away. _Dinner. Candlelight. Dancing._ I balled my free hand into a fist. What else would I need to go through for this mission?

"Just dinner, Ahndra. I swear. You're a shy bookworm, remember? You won't want a big deal."

_Thank Hyne._ "Fine."

Marshal regarded me with the expected depth and perception as before. It made me. . . nervous.

"You've known Seifer a long time."

My gaze sharply met his. "What?"

"I don't get why he put you into this. You're a damned good investigator, anybody will tell you that, and you've got to be one of **the best** interrogators. But undercover like this?" Marshal shook his head. "You'd be more comfortable in a military facility or in a war zone. Seifer damn well knows it."

I pressed my lips together and looked away. It didn't matter why I'd been assigned. I would do my job. I **had** to.

Marshal scrubbed at his neck again. Then he released a quick breath and looked over at me. "Ahndra, you're doing awesome--I didn't expect anything else--It's just, I don't know. I guess I thought Seifer would cut you some slack."

But Seifer wouldn't do that. _He remembers who I was. Why do you think he pushes so hard?_ A hard life required a harder approach.

Marshal watched me, again with the intensity I didn't know whether to hate or respect. I pressed my lips together and focused ahead. "Ten years. More?" I slightly shrugged. He scrutinized me yet again. I squinted off toward the farmhouse. _Seifer saved my ass. More than once. He's been saving my ass since I was eight, and he didn't even know. He kept me sane._

But it had come with a price. My life had affected Seifer's. Made him harder. Meaner. Tougher in a way a kid shouldn't be tough. It had turned both of us against people, causing us to look like rogues. Rebels. Hard asses. And through it all Seifer kept me sane; giving me something to hold on to; something to rely on. I hadn't ever had that before him.

My gaze lowered to the ground, and I stepped over a wildflower. Marshal held back. I lifted my focus back toward the farmhouse to notice a man standing outside looking our direction. I stopped and turned toward Marshal--I blinked. His ears reddened, but he didn't halt his approach. He presented me the wildflower previously ignored. He cleared his throat as I took it, still watching him with a curious expression.

"It's blue. You look good in blue." Marshal cleared his throat again and stepped past as I changed my focus to the flower. I heard his recognizable mutter of "Damn it, Marshal" and couldn't help but smirk.

But then, as I continued to stare down at the flower, my smirk melted away. I shifted the flower from one hand to the other and then back again, trying to reason what to do with it. I had never been given a flower before. I hadn't been given **anything**. I absently twirled the flower between my index finger and thumb as I looked to where it had once been. It would have been better if he hadn't picked it. What did I know about taking care of picked flowers? Now it would die, like everything else died, and no one else would see how pretty it once was.

Pretty.

My focus slowly switched to the simple flower. Two layers of light blue petals with a white center. It looked like something I had drawn once as a child. I used to like doing things like that-- _'Look at this mess! Damn it, Ahndra!'_ smack--

I dropped the flower without meaning to and blinked when Marshal bent to pick it up. He straightened and handed it to me again, but I couldn't take it. I didn't understand why, and I didn't **want** to understand why. I only recognized that I did not want the flower.

Or maybe I didn't **want** to want it?

"Hello there!"

We both turned to watch the approaching man. Marshal nodded. "Hiya!" Marshal looked over at me again before presenting the flower once more.

I couldn't keep my eyes from it. Then I pressed my lips together and reached forward to take it. I briefly met his gaze. "Thank you."

He only smiled and then focused his attention back on the man. But then something about Marshal's expression changed. His complexion seemed to go from yellow to red and then back. He stiffened as well, and his hands clenched. Instincts flared, screaming at me that something had happened that could potentially blow our cover.

I stepped toward the man. "Are we trespassing?"

The man shook his head. "No. This property isn't mine. I just came to see if you were lost." He motioned to Marshal. "He okay?"

"Bad breakfast. Excuse us. We need air." And then I turned and took hold of Marshal's arm to lead him away and toward the field of wildflowers. "What."

"Damn it," Marshal hissed.

He fought against my hold as if he wanted to turn back for the man, but I pulled him onward. "Not yet."

Marshal pulled harder against my hold, but I wouldn't let go. "Damn it, Ahndra," he said in a harsh whisper, " **let go**!"

I didn't even look at him. I had never heard this rage from Marshal before, but I had heard and experienced worse from my father. "No."

I had no idea how I could question him when any kind of argument would likely raise suspicion--I pressed my lips together and took a firm hold of his hand to pull him forward into a half-hearted run. Then I forced a smile and giggled-- _Oh Hyne--_ as I looked back at Marshal. A few moments later I purposefully stumbled and fell, taking Marshal down with me into the taller grass.

I kept him down with two hands pressed firmly against his chest as I lay close, looking down into his face. "What did you see?" I asked again, firmer this time. And then I sounded a giggle loud enough for the man to hear in case he still listened and watched.

Marshal raised his hands to cover his face, and he didn't volunteer anything.

I gasped out a "Blake!" in a tone I had heard Sally use with Zell and moved my hands to pull his away from his face--Tears trailed from his closed eyes. My mind went silent as I watched his face. I had never seen a man cry.

Marshal attempted to sit up, but I kept him down. Then I adjusted my position to kneel beside him with my hands still pressed against his chest. I continued to watch his face, muted shock my only reaction to his. "What," I pressed.

He again covered his eyes, but this time with a single hand. "Damn it, Ahndra," he roughly whispered. "He's one of the bastards that murdered my sister."

I blinked and then looked over my shoulder. I couldn't see anything through/over the grass. I focused my gaze back on Marshal. "Did you hear a name during the attack?"

Marshal slightly shook his head.

"Was he the leader?"

He shook his head again.

And I didn't recognize him from the pictures of those we had been sent here to investigate. I frowned, mind working. "Supplier of surveillance technology. . . . Why needed? Base of operations. . . for something not yet. . . known?" I arched an eyebrow and then reached behind Marshal to pull the handheld from his back pocket. "Blake, stop it," I protested loudly, and then promptly giggled. I sounded like Sally. _Seifer, I'm going to kill you._

I brought up a secure satellite link to Seifer's security account and quickly typed an email. Marshal had lowered his hand from his eyes and just stared at the sky. I occasionally glanced his direction, intrigued by the tears and the clear expression of anguish and controlled rage. Hadn't I seen that on my own face often enough?

'Found possible cause for saboteur. Research Marshal Beita's record regarding rape and murder of sister for names and descriptions of involved parties. Cross-reference with dishonorable discharges from Galbadian military. Research and compare names, locations, and questionable activities with those reported near Deling and Trabia Gardens. Possible location of the sale of military arms found.'

I scrambled the message and sent it. Then I again reached behind Marshal to tuck the handheld away--His arms surrounded me. I gasped as I put my hands against his chest and firmly pushed. Images flashed as my insides twisted and knotted, threatening nausea as my eye throbbed. Marshal rolled me onto my back, his weight pressing me against the ground as he chuckled "Gotcha", but his expression was still pained as it pleaded--I looked slightly over Marshal's shoulder just as the top of a head began to come into view. I fought back the panic as I met Marshal's gaze.

The man from before cleared his throat. Marshal didn't look back. He only forced an abashed expression and quickly sat up as he released me, his gaze holding mine. It begged.

I sat up and rubbed my palms on my denim shorts as I met the man's gaze. "Yes?"

"I know I said this isn't my property, and it isn't, but I don't think the owner wants people hiking all over it without his permission."

_Not if he's hiding something._ "Sorry. We'll go."

Marshal stood and helped me up, his gaze still on my face. Once I stood, he didn't release my hand. His hold only tightened on mine. I tried to hide the singular shiver and then the continued prickle as I again looked to the man.

"Is he selling?" I asked.

The man shrugged. "Can't say. Haven't heard either way. Don't think I've seen any signs around, though."

"Can we talk to him?"

"Haven't seen him around lately. I think he had to go to Deling."

Marshal balled a hand into a fist and briefly tightened his hold on my hand. I didn't look away from the man. "We want to buy. Will you have him contact us?"

"I don't see him that often. You'd do better to leave a note or your card at the inn. He sometimes has them hold his mail."

I nodded and smiled. "Thank you." Then I turned and led Marshal back toward the fence we'd climbed before. I could see the hunger for revenge on Marshal's face, and that was the one expression I understood. If it hadn't been for our mission, I would have helped Marshal exact that revenge. It would have likely released some of my own rage. Another step toward leaving the images and nightmares behind. A step I hadn't been able to take when I had last met my father.

Words would never be enough.

We reached the fence and both climbed up and over. The man still watched us. Marshal gripped the rail.

I watched his profile before saying "Not yet" in a low voice. Marshal's jaw muscle twitched as his hands tightened on the rail. I gripped his arm. He looked down at me. "His time will come," I promised.

Marshal held my gaze for a long time before looking briefly back to the man in the field. Then he turned away, walking back the way we'd come with balled fists and a stiff gait. I moved my focus to the man in the field and waved. He waved back, clearly not seeing the burning hatred and plotting of revenge in my gaze.

We walked back to town in silence, one I understood all too well. It had kept me company for years, toying with my memories and twisting me into the person I now was. No, silence had never been my friend. But what could I offer Marshal as a 'rescue'? I didn't know how to comfort or soothe a misery. I couldn't even fully face my own yet. Marshal wanted revenge. I knew it. I understood it. I would help him plot it.

But what could I give or do to help with the agony of waiting for that revenge?

A tickle against my finger drew my gaze. I blinked when I found I still held the flower Marshal had given me before. It looked more tattered than anything but--I moved my focus to his profile. Stony. Controlled. Yes, I knew it well. I reached out and gripped his arm to pull him to a stop. He did, but he didn't face me. He stared ahead; hands fisted, jaw clenched, expression pale.

I lifted a balled fist and had him open it. Then I set the sad-looking flower within his palm and stared at it. I felt Marshal move his gaze to it and then me. I didn't know why I did it. Don't know why I thought it would help. But I was a woman of few words, and those wouldn't have helped him. Words were mostly empty promises anyway. I could only offer what he offered me. Something prettier than the vision he now held.

Marshal's hand closed around the flower until the blossom peeked out of the fist in a twisted vision of anger and peace. I lifted my gaze to his face. Yes; I understood his agony. It was the one piece of him I **did** understand.

"She was only sixteen," he whispered roughly. "Only--"

Marshal shook his head and turned away, again walking toward town with that familiar stiff gait. I walked beside him, remembering my own 'Sixteen'. In a twisted showing of mercy, I escaped and Marshal's sister died my death. It shouldn't have been that way. **I** should have died. I had been wanting to die for years anyway.

But Death had laughed in my face and only made me blind, taking her life instead. I frowned. If I couldn't have my revenge on my father, Marshal would definitely have his for his sister--

Marshal's hand enfolded mine. I looked up sharply, but he continued to stare ahead with his jaw tightly clenched. I released the whole-body shiver and then ignored the continued prickle as we drew closer to town. I didn't understand why he would seek this out from someone like me. I scared people. I didn't comfort them.

"I've been looking for three years," he told me in a low, tight voice.

My focus moved to his profile. He stared ahead.

"After I got the position 'Chief of Security,' I used everything I could get my hands on. Off-time. On-time. Favors. Rank. Everything." He finally looked over at me. "Three damn years they've been hiding from me and they drop in my lap when I can't **do** anything?"

Marshal stopped and faced me, his hand tightening on mine until it grew to that firm pressure I had grown accustomed to from my father. My skin crawled, but I didn't pull away.

"How the hell am I supposed to do my job when I can't see or think of anything but how best to torture the bastard that mutilated my baby sister?"

It took years to get as cold as I had become, and Marshal didn't have the time. "I don't know."

His expression darkened as he shook his head. He released my hand and grabbed my upper arms. My entire body recoiled at the contact, but I. . . I couldn't pull free.

"Ahndra," he hissed, and I could hear how much he fought to keep control. " **I need your help**! How do I turn it off?"

"You don't." This time I pushed away, but I held his gaze. "It stays. It festers. It darkens." I looked away. "It becomes me."

Marshal scrubbed at his scalp, muttering "Damn it" again and again through clenched teeth. Confusion began to rise within. Rage and violence against me always went hand-in-hand. But Marshal hadn't struck out like he wanted to, like I know he **needed** to. Hadn't I put a hole in his wall? Hadn't I broken two knuckles against a wall in Deling?

Marshal swore again, and the rage I heard in his voice this time sounded so close to my father--I moved my gaze back to Marshal's face. The expression still looked different than that rage seen in Daddy's eyes. It wasn't complete. It wasn't blind. It was held under control.

"Three years," he said gruffly. " **Three damn years** I've been promising myself vengeance." Marshal lowered his fisted hands to his side as he met my gaze. "Damn it, Ahndra, why did it have to be **now**?"

I didn't know. I had asked myself the same question for years, remembering only the harsh reality instead of how I'd visualized it. Having only the image of my father instead of the face I thought I would see. I looked away. "It always comes when we don't want it."

"I know, and I still hate it."

I nodded slightly. "Hate it. It will make revenge sweeter." Although revenge always left a bitter aftertaste that warped the memory of it.

Silence settled and then I felt a slight touch on my shoulder. I didn't turn. I only accepted the expected whole-body shiver and then pushed away the continued tingle.

His gentle grip tightened very slightly before sliding down to take my hand. My entire body shivered again, and this time a muted panic blocked the rest. I could feel it building up behind my wall of control. The panic. The terror--The tingle heightened and then receded. I twitched and tried to ignore Marshal's glance.

_'I need your help!'_ But what help could I be. I was harder than any woman should be. I made people's lives miserable to protect a colony of warriors. I didn't help anyone but the violent.

"Ana."

Marshal's tone changed, and curiosity wouldn't let me keep my gaze away. I met his silver eyes and noticed pain and misery had warped and faded the rage. My body tensed, but--

"Thank you."

I moved my focus to the safety of the town ahead. "Fine." But I hadn't done anything. I hadn't offered anything but empty words and silence.
Chapter Ten

More

I took in a deep breath and slowly opened my eyes to stare at the ceiling. After the happenings of the late morning, Marshal and I both lost any appetite. Mental and emotional exhaustion pulled, making both of us agree that a noontime nap would be wise to keep our minds sharp and clear on what our mission was really about. So, we decided to walk around the town itself in those few hours before dinner.

I stretched, but my left hip pressed against something. I looked over and blinked.

Marshal lay beside me, on his back as I was, with his hands behind his head. He looked over and smiled slightly. "Hey."

I pushed myself into a sitting position and sent him a sidelong glance as I wiped the sleep from my eyes and likely the creases from my face.

"Dinner's in an hour," he said quietly. "You should make use of the shower."

I looked sharply at my watch. I had slept clear through the afternoon. I focused a scowl on Marshal. "Why didn't you wake me?"

He looked away and sat up, swinging his legs over his side of the bed. "You looked tired. What are vacations for if you can't sleep in the middle of the day?" He stood and made his way to his dresser. "Besides, you're too cute when you're sleeping. I couldn't do it."

I pressed my lips together and slid off the bed to make my way to the bathroom. _'Too cute'?_ I scoffed and shut the door with a slight slam. I turned and cranked up the hot water. _We aren't_ _really_ _on vacation!_ I pressed my lips together as I roughly stripped out of my clothes. I threw them aside and stepped into the steaming shower.

Marshal knew the trip around town was essential to giving us the opportunity to touch-base with the locals regarding 'happenings' here, as well as 'things-to-see'. I wanted to be there to pose my own questions. Him allowing me to sleep had stolen that opportunity. I swore.

tap-tap-tap "Ahndra?"

I frowned and began roughly scrubbing shampoo into my hair. "What."

click clack--door open--click clunk--door shut

I heard the slight creak as Marshal leaned against the counter. "Ahndra, we can walk around after dinner."

I knew that, but that wasn't the point.

"You were tired," he went on carefully. "I was tired. You haven't been sleeping well. This is my first weekend off in months. I figured we could use the rest."

_'We could use.'_ I wiped the shampoo and water from my eyes and stared at the wall ahead of me. "You didn't. . .?"

"Walk around? Of course not. You want to talk to the people here as much as I do." There sounded another creak as he adjusted his position. "I took a nap same as you. Felt damn good."

I turned and dipped my face under the water. Yes it had. No dreams. Nothing. Just sleep.

Marshal tapped at the shower door. "Okay?"

I turned again and rested my palms against the wall as the water from the shower pelted my back, warily accepting the answer with a carefully voiced "Okay."

creak "So do you want to go tomorrow before breakfast? Or after dinner?"

I closed my eyes and pressed my palms harder against the wall. I wanted to go this evening, so I could find the clues that would solve the mystery and let me leave before tonight--I punched the wall. "After breakfast," I said through clenched teeth.

Marshal didn't move. He didn't speak. He didn't stop watching me through the shower door. I could feel it. The study. The reasoning. The piecing together of the puzzle he mentioned before. A challenge. A mystery. I slowly opened my eyes. This would be one mystery he wouldn't solve. Who could imagine a life like mine?

Marshal stepped slightly closer to the shower door, and I cringed back toward the opposite wall, my eyes focusing on the muted shadow of his form. He backed away, and I heard his deep breath.

"I'll call down to the restaurant and make sure they have a table." His steps toward the door--click clack of the door opening--a pause--click clunk of the door closing again. I released a heavy breath as I turned, pressing my back against the cool wall. I rested my head back and closed my eyes, balling my hands into fists.

'I'm gonna hold you, Ana.'

My eyes snapped open and I grabbed up the body sponge. I scrubbed and scrubbed, but I could still feel it. The other burning. The slight, continued tingle. The barest hint of warmth. The new memory. I choked and stared at my arms. The scars that told of beatings and pain, but all they remembered was a slight, non-invasive touch. I didn't know how to ignore it. Daddy's. . . forgetting that was simple self-preservation. This--I scrubbed at the arm until it glowed red. My body wanted more of that touch. I could feel the hunger for it roar, building up just as the rage had done.

I threw the sponge with a choked ". . .no."

I couldn't--I **wouldn't** let someone do what my father had. I had taken my body back, and I wouldn't let it be used again. Ever _._ I pushed the shower door roughly open and stepped out to grab up a white towel. Yet even that kept bringing back the memory within the shower and throughout the night, and on the ship, and in the field. . . proving there **was** something different. Proving that what my father did **wasn't** the only--I shook the thought out of my head and rubbed harder with the towel, almost frantic. It only began to draw out the more painful images--

I tossed the towel aside with a strangled "Damn it."

But if I had to choose-- _Why? Why must I choose either? Why must I have it? I don't need it. I don't want it!_ I slammed my fists onto the counter.

Yet Marshal's touch had finally burned away that of my father, and my sanity craved more. I knew it wouldn't give me peace until I had it, but the thought of--I shivered and lowered my head. Everything was different. It wasn't fair. I wanted. . . . I slightly shook my head. I didn't know what I wanted. Not now. Not since Seifer had done that first damned push.

I beat my fists against the counter again.

tap-tap "Ahndra? You okay?"

I turned away and grabbed for my shorts and shirt. My stomach felt as if it slithered to my feet and then rose to lodge itself in my throat. _Leave me alone. . . please!_ "Fine." I didn't even convince myself.

silence "You need me to grab you some clothes to change into for dinner?"

I rubbed at my forehead, noticing my shaking fingers with a flare of temper. _'Get me my beer, Ahndra!' 'If you don't get your ass in there and get me my din--'_ "Yes."

I heard the dressers opening and closing out in the main room as I dressed into my panties and bra. Then I sat on the toilet and covered my face with my hands.

tap-tap "Ahndra?"

I looked up. ". . .what." And I could barely hear my own voice.

click-clack The door opened slightly and an arm and hand appeared holding a pair of black slacks and a long-sleeved sweater of dark blue. I stood and made my way over to the hand to take the clothes. Marshal then drew back his arm and closed the door. I stared at the clothes and then raised my gaze to that section of the door where I knew he would stand. Why didn't he ever--

"If you want something else, just let me know."

'Tough shit! You're going to deal with it, you ungrateful--'

My hand fisted around the clothes. Something else. **Something else?** What I wanted I didn't want to want. _Just leave me alone!_ But what would that do? When I enrolled at Garden, everyone had left me alone, yet the nightmares still came. The rage kept burning. The hate. The cold. These past few days had been the first. . . .

I stared down at the clothes in my hand, still hearing Marshal's slight breathing outside the door. My insides tightened, and I forced myself to turn away. My brain pounded. My eye throbbed. I didn't know if it was dread or panic or something I hadn't had since my mom died. How could I remember that far back? I didn't even have images of her.

I slightly shook my head and pushed all the pounding and questions away, tossing my clothes onto the counter with a choked sound. I grabbed up the slacks just as there was another tap. My insides tightened so hard and fast that I nearly doubled over.

"Ana?" and he almost whispered. "Are you **sure** you're okay?"

I roughly stepped into the slacks, ignoring the something that burned in my eyes and strangled my throat. _'This what you want?'_ I cringed as the soft warmth began to warp. The soft touch began to feel harder. Rougher. My throat tightened so quickly that I choked again. I fought it back as I grabbed my sweater and yanked it over my head, pushing my arms through the sleeves so hard it burned. _'I'll sex you up!'_ Weight--I tried to push it away as I leaned my hands against the counter. _'Don't fight_ _me_ _, you little bitch!'_ I choked and crumpled at the remembered intense pain--

The door opened slowly--"Ahndra!"

And Marshal stepped in to kneel beside me, but he didn't touch me. No one ever touched me--I covered my face with my hands, trying to hold it back: the nausea, the tears, the rage. ". . . damn it," I hissed. The gropes, the clumsy and drunken invasions--I shivered violently and reached out to grab Marshal's shirt, eyes wide. His expression showed calm seriousness. I choked out "I don't want it!" I shook him, hard. " I never did!"

Marshal slightly nodded, and then his silver eyes colored to charcoal. "What can I do?"

Panic and self-preservation flared as I shook him again. "I don't know!" My head and eye continued to throb. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and held my head in my hands. "Stop! STOP!" It had been five years. Five years of ignoring hell while smelling its sulfur. Five years of scrubbing my skin raw while still feeling those damned fingers. Five years of--

'Get over here, Ahndra--'

". . .make it stop," I choked.

"I'm gonna hold you, Ahndra."

And Daddy's voice from the past collided with Marshal's from the present and disappeared. The arms surrounded. Again that blessed and torturous shiver and tingle. The burning away. "Go to hell," I whispered. "Leave me alone. Go to hell." My hands moved to once again clutch at Marshal's shirt. "You bastard--" and my voice choked on the word. "No more. Please. No more. No more."

It needed to go. The nightmares. The voices. The images. All of it. Each day it grew harder to do my job. Keeping distant. Keeping cold and angry. My hands clenched tighter as the throb in my head grew to a sharp pain. Dizziness. Heat burning the images, warping the voices, twisting my insides.

Then there was a soft stroke on my hair. . . and again. . . soothing the throbbing and easing the pain. Making so many things disappear. I slowly opened my eyes to stare at a rust spot on the silver pipe under the sink counter. Blinking slowly. Breathing slower. More relaxed than I had ever been. Warmth. Safety. Had I ever felt that? But that must be what this was. No lurking cringes or flinches. No wariness. No twists of the stomach.

Again, Marshal didn't ask anything. Didn't push anything.

So I did. I pushed back and lifted my gaze to meet his. He still looked serious. His silver eyes charcoal. They looked into **both** of mine--and then reached up to brush the hair from my scarred face, gently touching the scar near my eye as he did. Then he smiled. I don't understand why someone like him would smile at someone like me. But he did.

"Why don't you ask?" I didn't understand why he wouldn't ask 'What happened to you?' Didn't he want to know?

"Ana. . . ." Marshal looked down at my hand and gently took it in his. "I won't ask. I'm not saying I don't want to. I just won't."

"Why?"

He lifted his eyes to meet mine. "Because it hurts."

I blinked and then lowered my gaze. Yes. Yes, it did. Each time I thought of it the agony came.

"I'll listen if you want to talk," he added quietly, "but I won't ask. Not this time."

I lifted my eyes to meet his. Calm seriousness. Charcoal silver. Those eyes had watched a sister live and die in my torture. I lowered my gaze. I couldn't watch those eyes for very long. Those eyes saw me as easily as Seifer did.

Marshal leaned a little closer and whispered, "It's all right," as he gently enfolded me in his arms. "The bastard can't hurt you anymore."

My entire body relaxed against his warmth, trembling. I felt like I was eight years old all over again. Terrified. Alone. But then Marshal adjusted those arms around me. Not invading. Just being. Like Seifer, but not. Different. Good. _So damn good._

But everything good always came to an end.

The memories would be back. The images would burn my scarred eye. The touch. The invasion-- _No! I want something else._ _Something else_ _!_ I lifted a frantic expression to meet that silver gaze, but I didn't know how to ask. I didn't know **what** to ask.

I choked, and Marshal seemed to cringe a bit with the sound. Then he reached out and lightly stroked my cheek with his fingers again. Never before had I been touched the way Marshal touched me. The way he smiled at me. The way he said my name--I pushed myself hard against him, my lips against his. But it was the same. The revulsion came with the touch, and then my father's breath on my face--I choked back a sob and pulled away. Marshal followed, continuing the kiss, but softer. Gentler. Chasing away the breath and the face as his gentle hold on my arms kept me slightly back.

Terror flared to that 'something else', but I didn't understand it. I just wanted a different nightmare. A different face in the dream. A softer touch. . . . My arms surrounded Marshal as my mouth remembered and then learned and returned the gentle touch. The soft intensity of movement. He drew me a little closer, lowering me back onto the cold bathroom floor with his arms surrounding yet again.

"Ahndra. . . ." And the name was caressed against my lips. "Ana, I'm sorry. . . ."

But to my vanishing terror the statement didn't fit, and I didn't care. All I could focus on was the warmth of him and the different weight pressing against me and chasing away the weight of my father. That was it. Nothing more. I didn't know what to feel next. I didn't know what to think about anything that happened before or what would happen after--

Thoughts scattered and my body responded as Marshal's lips moved slowly across my cheek. Each touch lasted a mere instant in length, as if he fought within himself. Fought against what he did. But I needed it. I needed a different ending to the nightmare.

Marshal's lips paused at my ear, his breathing different and yet the same. "I didn't mean this to happen. Not like this."

But I didn't care, and my body roared for more while my mind pleaded for protection from something I didn't want to face. All I could do was turn to him for that protection. For the different face. The different ending.

". . .please," I whispered. And I hadn't ever **asked** for anything.

Marshal's lips tickled my cheek and the scarring around my eye before again caressing my lips. Deeper. A little harder and then softer. . . he drew me closer, his lips pulling away and then returning. Touching and then retreating. My eyelids fluttered as I tried to breathe through the rampaging emotions and the need and the thirst for more.

Marshal's lips caressed themselves across my face and down the skin of my neck, his rough breathing awakening something in me I hadn't known to look for. One of his hands cautiously moved beneath my sweater, stroking the skin of my stomach to my back while caressing and touching me as I had never been touched: tenderly, awakening a mind-numbing emotion that proved I lived.

His weight adjusted itself against me and my body responded, urging itself closer as my arms tightened around him, hands clutching the back of his shirt. I could sense my sanity drowning in the waves of terror and pleasure, but **everything** was different. Brighter. More intense. My entire body trembled with the roar, wanting even more and not knowing how different it would be. Terrified of the sameness and yet addicted to the desire to want it--

'This what you want!'

I gasped and pulled back, my eyes snapping open as the voice burned through my mind. I could feel Marshal's entire body tense against me as he watched my expression.

He withdrew his hand from my skin very slowly. "Ana?" he asked.

I shivered at the caress and sounded a slight choke as I closed my eyes. Marshal gently stroked my hair from my face--My eyes snapped open again. He still watched me. Intensely gauging my reactions as he continued to hold me close. Tenderly touching my cheek and my hair.

Emotion tightened my throat, collecting in my stomach and flaring outward. _This_ _is_ _what I want! You bastard!_ _This_ _is how it was supposed to be! Not drunken gropes and painful invasions from an animal!_

"I want a different ending," I whispered, holding Marshal's charcoal gaze. "A different face in my nightmares."

Marshal drew my body closer, his lips caressing my cheek and the scar as **he** whispered my name, and I liked how he said my name. Soft. Like he smiled. Like he touched me. Like a caress.

". . .for the wrong reason."

I tensed and my eyes flashed open as my hands clutched his shirt. "What."

Marshal lifted his head and lightly kissed my scarred eye before momentarily meeting my gaze. "Ahndra. **Hyne** , you're a gorgeous woman." He caressed my cheeks and then my lips with his fingers. Finally, he held my gaze. His expression looked pained. "Ahndra, I'd be doing it for the wrong reason."

I stared at him in shock, the emotions sliding away to a pit of cold at the rejection. I never asked for **anything** since escaping the horror of my previous life. Now, the one time--I could feel my face harden as my body tensed within his arms.

I pushed at him, hard. "Let go of me."

He did, but he held my hands once I'd moved to sit against the far wall. "Ahndra, please," he said carefully, gently, "please listen."

Words. More words. _Words._ _Words_ _._ I yanked my hands from his grasp and punched him hard in the face. My face set and stony. Insides cold, yet remembering the spark. Marshal turned his head back to meet my gaze, and I could still see everything in those silver eyes. Things I could read. Things I couldn't read. Things I didn't **want** to read. I looked away, swallowing back the tightness in my throat.

"Ahndra. . . ." He slightly shook his head. "Ana, I'm sorry. I'm not doing this to hurt you. I just, I. . . ." Marshal stretched his hands out toward me. "I can't do it for that reason. You deserve better, and I have too much respect for you **not** \--"

"Get out."

Marshal released a deep breath as he stood. He stared down at me. "An--"

"OUT."

Marshal watched me a moment more before turning and opening the bathroom door. He rubbed at the back of his neck and muttered under his breath as he pulled the door closed. I flinched and wrapped my arms tightly around myself.

_'I'd be doing it for the wrong reason.'_ **Those** words rang in my head and wouldn't be ignored. _The wrong reason? The entire nightmare had been for 'the wrong reason'!_ I covered my face with my hands. I choked on something, but I didn't cry. I didn't know how. I had forgotten how to feel misery and tears a long time ago.
Chapter Eleven

Words

Confusion and a lingering spark tingled in my mind and on my skin as my body roared for more of his touch. A deeper intensity of a feeling I hadn't ever had. I shivered at the memory and the words _'Hyne, you're a gorgeous woman'_ forcing Daddy's voice to be silent. For the first time I couldn't even feel it lurking.

'You deserve better.'

Better. _Better than_ _what_ _? All I want is a different ending to the nightmare! Why is_ _that_ _not 'better' enough?_ I felt again Marshal's touch on my skin. The caress of his lips against my eye--I groaned and balled my hands into fists. _Your_ _touch_ _is better._ And I needed more.

'I'd be doing it for the wrong reason.'

But what was the right reason? My body had always been taken before, and it never felt right. Marshal's touch hadn't been 'taking'. Everything about it felt as if he gave me something. But had it felt right? Again, I didn't know. That it felt different should have been enough of a 'right'. But _'I'd be doing it for the wrong reason.'_

_What's the_ _right_ _reason?_ And the question rang in my head with his touch and his warmth against me--I fisted my hair and tucked my knees to my chin. I had to ask. I had to know and understand. My body and the memory of the difference wouldn't let me **not** ask. Especially when he had touched me like he wanted me.

_'Hyne_ _, you're a gorgeous woman.'_

I lifted my head and stared at the door. _Why did you stop? I wanted it. You wanted it. 'I'd be doing it for the wrong reason.'_ What was the 'wrong reason' if he wanted it? The question was going to drive me mad.

'Ana, I'm sorry.

He had said that twice. Before and after his touch had been burned onto my body. I stood and strode to the door. My hand hesitated on the doorknob as my insides tightened and twisted, feeding the throb in my brain and the burning. I clenched my jaw and opened the door--halting just outside as I blinked in mild surprise. Marshal looked up from where he sat on the floor across from the bathroom door. The pained expression still there. Seeing him heightened the twisting within and flared the memories to crystal clarity as my brain continued to pound with questions.

He slowly stood and then stuffed his hands in the pockets of his charcoal slacks. My hand tightened on the doorknob before I released it. Marshal watched me. He always watched me--I pressed my lips together and forced my steps toward him.

Marshal pulled his hands from his pockets and stretched them toward me. "Ahndra. . . ."

I stepped close and wrapped him in an embrace as I said "I'm sorry, Blake," loud enough for our watchers to hear. To Marshal I whispered "I don't understand."

His arms surrounded me and he pressed his lips against my neck. "I know."

I shivered with the tickle of his breath on my skin, and it felt as if my eyes rolled back into my head. My body shifted closer to his radiating warmth and the roar returned, drowning everything in my memory.

"Ahndra." Marshal pushed back and enfolded my upper arms in his hands. "Let's go walk around a bit before dinner. We need to talk about this."

I could feel my body resisting his hold on my arms, so consumed with its need to have more of the touch. I needed to understand why he wouldn't finish the nightmare. How could I do my job if I didn't understand why Marshal wouldn't give what my father had taken?

"All right."

Marshal released my arms and enfolded my hand with his. Then he led me out of the room and down the stairs to the reception desk. He smiled at the clerk. "We have a reservation in a half-hour for dinner, but we're going to walk around a bit. Can you push it back an hour or so?"

The middle-aged clerk with the peppered hair offered a practiced smile. "Of course, Mr. Rankin. Have a nice walk."

"Thanks. Oh." Marshal leaned an arm and elbow against the desk. "Any recommendations on where we can go to get a little. . ." Marshal winked. "Privacy?"

The clerk's smile widened, and I felt a muted respect for his ability to charm.

The clerk leaned slightly forward and passed a stealthy look over his shoulder. "About 50 feet behind the City Hall is an old tree-fort. I've heard it's quite the adventure."

Marshal's smile widened. "Tree fort? Wow." He clucked the side of his mouth with another wink to the clerk and a "Thanks." Then he adjusted his hold on my hand and led me from the inn.

The sun began to set, leaving the air cooler than earlier. There teased a slight breeze as well. Marshal gave my hand a slight squeeze, drawing my attention. I met his gaze, questioning why I was no longer angry. He had rejected a never before made advance.

He motioned to the left with his head. "This way."

I followed beside him, trying to organize the questions I had to ask while fighting through the brighter memories of what a touch should mean. There were so many things I didn't understand. How could I ask? It showed an ignorance in how life should be. Did I want to confess that ignorance?

My skin cra--No. My skin tingled when Marshal glanced my way.

"You've every right to be pissed, Ahndra."

I continued looking ahead as I said "I'm not" even though I didn't understand why. I always reacted with rage and violence. Marshal should be nearly dead with the 'no' he voiced more than once. _Damn right I should be pissed!_ But I wasn't. I was confused, and my mind roared with questions.

Marshal released a breath, which drew my attention. He met my gaze. "I blew it, Ahndra. I lost control, and I'm sorry."

I looked away. "No. You didn't."

He regarded my profile before squinting ahead. "And why would you say that?"

Words rose up like a wave, and I didn't know how to control them. I balled my hands into fists, and Marshal's hand returned a gentle pressure.

"Take your time," he said softly.

Softly. Tenderly. Caressing. Touching--My stomach lurched and my footing stumbled as I came to a stop. My brain felt as if it would explode, and I didn't understand why. Marshal faced me, his eyes still watching and studying everything as his hold didn't release my hand. Steadying. Waiting.

I met his gaze, fighting back the words as I carefully voiced "You **had** control." I saw it in his eyes and felt it in the soft touch against my skin. How could something like that not take control? My father never touched me like that.

"Ahndra, if I had control, I wouldn't have kissed you."

My insides shuddered with a wave of cold as I looked away. The memory began to warp. _'I wouldn't have kissed you.'_ I felt as if my entire insides cringed.

"That didn't come out right." He released a quick breath. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to kiss you like that, do you?"

I looked over at him sharply. "What."

Marshal released another breath, then he motioned again to the tree-fort. "Come on. Let's continue this up there."

"Why?" The conversation we needed to have wouldn't blow our cover. If anything, it would sound normal.

"Because I don't want to humiliate you. Come on."

He didn't accept argument, which I strangely didn't want to voice, and tugged me forward to the ladder built against the trunk of the ancient tree.

He motioned with his hand. "Ladies first."

And that had been the first statement that caught my intrigue about him. Said much the same as in his office. Proving the respect he voiced twice after and acted upon more times than that.

Marshal didn't look away, and I watched as the expression in his now-charcoal eyes changed. "Ana, Hyne, stop looking at me like that." This time he lowered his gaze and motioned again up to the tree. "Just climb the ladder."

I arched an eyebrow at the gruff tone and turned to do as requested. He hadn't sounded angry, and his expression definitely did not hint at annoyance or irritation. _Hm._ I pulled myself up into the one room tree-fort and stepped away from the entry hole to allow Marshal room. My eyebrow arched again when I noted the 'lush' comfort. A tattered but functional rug; a collection of blankets, sleeping bags, and pillows stacked in the corner; a shelf holding canned goods and camp-out cooking supplies, as well as candles and flashlights with the appropriate power supplies nearby. This didn't seem to be a simple tree-fort by any means.

Marshal heaved himself up and then moved to stand a bit behind me as he also noted our surroundings. "Wow," he said. He pulled his handheld from his slacks' back pocket. "I'd say this is a pretty popular place. No chairs, though. Bummer. We'll have to have our heart-to-heart on the floor."

As Marshal continued the scan, I stepped forward to retrieve two blankets. I folded one in quarters, set it on the floor, and then proceeded to do the same for the next one. When the hairs on the nape of my neck stood on end at the exact moment my skin tingled, I knew Marshal had come to stand behind me again. I straightened and turned to meet his gaze. But he kept his gaze on the floor and the newly folded/placed blankets, hands on hips.

"No watchers or listeners, thank Hyne. I've got it set up to track for any long-distance listeners. It will warn us if we're targeted with a mic."

"Mar--"

Marshal lifted a hand. "Give me a sec." He glanced my direction and then motioned to one of the folded blankets. "Please."

I regarded him a moment, confusion and curiosity heightening as I sat on the folded blanket while continuing to watch him. _'You have no idea how long I've wanted to kiss you like that, do you?' 'Ana, Hyne, stop looking at me like that.'_ I lowered my gaze to the floor as I listened to the voices again. _'You look good in blue.' 'I don't think this camera has taken one bad picture of you.' 'Hyne, you're a beautiful woman.' 'The white of your eye's cool.'_

There sounded a shuffle and a soft 'squinch' as he sat cross-legged onto the folded blanket across from me. I looked up to watch Marshal's face, but he still kept his eyes from meeting mine. He scrubbed at the back of his neck and likely muttered "Damn it, Marshal." Then he released a quick breath and threw his hands up in the air. "Hell, I don't know how to do it." He met my surprised gaze. "Ahndra, I, uh--When you and. . . ." He rolled his eyes and then scrubbed at his neck with a whispered "Shit" before meeting my eyes again. "I didn't want to be paired with you for this mission because--" Marshal clicked his mouth shut and sighed. "They all sound so damned idiotic." He slouched and pulled at the fake laces of his leather loafers. "Maybe **this** is why I'm still single."

I watched him, something pulling at me to get more. I looked down, but I could feel his occasional glances.

"You really have no idea, do you?"

Same question. Same confusion. I lifted my eyes to meet his. "About what?"

Marshal continued to study my face, head slightly tilted to one side as he did so. "Huh," he said, and it was like he didn't understand my ignorance. "Okay." He straightened and rubbed his hands together. "I guess we start from day one then."

I arched an eyebrow. "Day one?"

"Oh. Figure of speech I use. Square one. From the top. Whatever." Marshal rested his arms on his knees and slightly cleared his throat. "Right. Um, sure." He took in a deep breath and released it slowly before meeting my gaze. "This will probably embarrass the hell out of me more than you, but what the hell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Marshal scooted his blanket a little closer, and I had to keep from leaning closer. He looked up to meet my eyes. "Ahndra, I've been attracted to you since we first met."

I blinked, and this time I leaned **back**. "Why?"

"Because you're a beautiful woman."

My stomach plummeted. "What," I whispered.

Marshal examined all my reactions with that intense scrutiny I had grown so accustomed to. "I said you're beautiful."

I looked down, eyes still wide from shock and something else.

Marshal continued to watch me. "I've heard a few things about you from people at Balamb and Galbadia Gardens. Read some reports in your file. Talked to Sally about different projects you've been put in charge of. It really stuck in my hat. I haven't met many women interrogators, or investigators for that matter, and you, well, you're damn good at your job. Your instinct about things is spot on. That grabbed my attention, too. Made me want to get to know you better. Only thing was, I didn't know how. I had my job at Galbadia and you're Seifer's right-hand. You didn't have any reason to come over to Galbadia Garden to hang out. Vice-versa. Then this uproar with Deling and Trabia Gardens came up and dropped the opportunity in my lap to work hand-in-hand with you. Not only did I get the chance for an adventure--damn Quistis for getting the undercover job first--but I'd get the opportunity to get together with you."

Marshal lowered his gaze to the floor as he picked at the tattered rug. He occasionally glanced my direction, but I continued to stare at the floor. Numb, yet not.

"I could have fried my own ass when I went head-to-head against you at Balamb. But, man, what a rush! I never met a woman who pushed back." Glance. "I have a tendency of being a hard-nosed asshole. Like Seifer. Sally doesn't seem to mind so much, but it's always been the thorn in my side trying to find a woman who'll actually look twice my direction."

Marshal scrubbed at his scalp of black hair and cleared his throat. Then he released a slow breath and fully focused on my down-turned face. "I don't know what else to say," he confessed. "The more time I spend with you, the more I'm attracted to you. That's why I lost it in the bathroom. You sounded so. . . desperate."

I balled my hands into fists. "I was," I whispered.

"I know, and that was why I shouldn't have kissed you like that. You weren't--you didn't really want me to. You just wanted something else to remember. I couldn't do that to you. Like I said before, you deserve better than that."

I finally lifted my gaze, tightening my fists. "You have no idea what I deserve." My voice was low and calm.

Marshal regarded my face as he processed the response. "Yeah I do," he countered slowly. "You deserve to be free from the nightmare that doesn't let you sleep. You deserve to be touched by a man without a cringe or an instant reaction of defense."

Something within roared with the need and the want, but I fought it back until my jaw hurt. "Then give that."

Marshal balled one hand into a fist as he held my gaze. "Ahndra." He looked down and clenched his jaw. "Shit," he muttered. He breathed deeply several times before returning his focus back to my face. "Ana, I can't--No, I **won't** touch you like that just to erase a memory. **That** is where you deserve more."

I leaned closer. "But you want me." And I saw that truth even clearer when Marshal paled. My hands lashed out to grab his shirt and the warmth heightened the roar. "Marshal," I hissed as I shook him. "Please."

Marshal held my gaze, his silver eyes a storm of desires which flared with such a different passion than my father. It didn't evoke the same terror. Finally, he released a slow breath and pulled my hands from his shirt. "Ana," he said gruffly, "I can't. I'm not going to take advantage of you."

Desperation grabbed me the same moment I wrenched my hands from his hold and again took hold of his shirt. "I don't care! Your touch burned his away. Your voice overpowers his. Take what he took!" I shook him, trying to make him understand. Begging. "Overpower the memory of the taking!"

He shook his head. "No. I won't be like him."

I blinked and sat back. "What?"

Marshal reached out to brush and hold the hair from my scarred eye as he held my gaze. "Do you really want me to be like the man who did this?"

I blinked and very slightly shook my head.

He cupped my cheek with his hand then, the thumb a whispered caress against my skin. My entire body shivered as I held his silver gaze. He smiled and leaned close. I closed my eyes, expecting the kiss, but his lips brushed the scarring of my eye. Then his breath tickled my face as he released a slow breath.

When Marshal pulled back, he scrubbed both hands across his scalp before again meeting my gaze. "I want you. You're right. But I won't take what you don't want to give **me**. It's going to **mean** something. To **both** of us."

I stared at him in silence, both within and without.

*

' _Because you're a beautiful woman._ '

I examined my face in the mirror of the bathroom with a suspicious expression, looking for what Marshal called 'beautiful'. I didn't know what to look for, and I didn't like what I saw. Rage. Suspicion. Coldness. A hardness that shouldn't have been. I drew the hair from my face and examined the scarring and the pearlescent color of the eye. A frown lowered my brows and I pressed my lips together. _What's beautiful in this?_ It stood as a grotesque reminder of my violent past.

Marshal appeared in the doorway of the bathroom dressed in a gray t-shirt and a pair of dark blue boxers--my pajamas were a horribly soft, satiny light blue. He halted and watched me scrutinizing myself in the mirror. I lowered my hair to cover my eye and picked up my hairbrush. He came to stand beside me as I began brushing my hair.

He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms as he watched me. "So what were you looking for?"

"Beauty."

His scrutiny didn't lessen, but I didn't mind. "You don't see it, do you."

"I see my past." I set down the brush and turned. Marshal didn't move, and the bathroom was small enough that his position blocked the exit. My insides twisted. "Move."

He straightened and lowered his arms to his sides. "Sorry."

I briefly met his gaze and then stepped past. I heard the sound of him following. _'I want you. You're right.'_ I halted at the side of the bed, balling my hands into fists moments before slipping between the covers. I laid on my right side and stared at the far wall--

Marshal crouched down in front of me and met my gaze. "You need me to take a jog until you fall asleep?"

I rolled over onto my other side. "No."

I heard Marshal stand and felt him watch me. Then he released a slow breath, I heard him scrub his scalp, and then walk around to the other side of the bed. I rolled back to my right side as he slipped into bed. I closed my eyes and fisted my hands, my insides tightening so hard that I pulled my knees up to my chin.

There sounded a shuffle and I felt the shift of blankets as Marshal adjusted himself within the bed. Then his presence began to warm the sheets, thereby warming me. He didn't move closer. He didn't pull me closer. He just lay there on his back, staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head.

I released a slow breath. Another memory shattered with but a simple action. With so many memories shattered, I didn't have--I had no idea how to act in the future. That which had defined me was gone or going. Everything I knew in the past didn't pertain to this new present. What I had was wrong. Horribly malformed and twisted.

It was a lie that I could choose not to believe. "Blake."

I heard the sound of head on pillow as he looked over at me. "Yeah?"

"It was my father." And the confession was bittersweet.

Marshal remained silent for a long time before releasing a slow and deep breath. I heard him roll onto his side, his warmth so much closer, and then he rested a hand on my arm and gave a slight back-and-forth stroke. I breathed in a suspiciously rough sigh and released it.

Marshal moved slightly closer while whispering "I'm gonna hold you, Ana."

I squeezed my eyes tighter, but I still felt a tear escape as his arm drew me gently against him. He didn't offer anything else but that. And **that** was more than enough. More than I ever had. More than what I came to expect.

I breathed in again, rougher this time, and choked out the exhalation. Marshal's arm adjusted itself around me, and I felt his slight breath near my ear as he whispered "It's all right now, girl." He lightly touched my temple with his lips. "You can sleep."

Yes. I could. I had a new nightmare. A nightmare without an ending.
Chapter Twelve

Nightmares

...a young woman's awkward silence... "It's not a big deal. I tripped..." ... "It's nothing. Really. I shut my hand in the car door." ... "Oh. I'm fine. I bumped a can of soup out of the cupboard. It hit me in the eye." ... silent hours in her room, silent walks home; alone, staring off in space out the window, starting at the slightest sound...

...a small street in a bustling city... Deling City... Traffic sounds invade the silence as a young woman and young man walk side by side toward a three-story apartment complex. The young woman has short, straight brunette hair with a mass of silver streaks throughout. Her face is solemn and shadowed with a slowly vanishing bruise on her right cheek. Scars and scratches have faded with the years, hidden now by always used make-up. The young man has short-cut black hair and intensely watching silver eyes that hold an expression of concern. He wears jeans and a simple red t-shirt.

The pair halts outside the entrance of the apartment building. The young man faces the young woman, who continues to stare at the road at her feet.

"Let me go up with you."

She shakes her head. "It's okay."

The young man motions to the third story. "But it's late. He's going to be mad."

She raises sorrowful and dead eyes to the entrance of the building. "I'll be fine."

The young man rubs at the back of his neck and releases a quick breath. "Ahndra. . . Ahndra, why don't you finish your studies at Dollet. It'll be safer than staying here." Ahndra remains quiet and lowers her gaze to the ground again. The young man watches her. "Ana, please. I don't want him to hurt you anymore. Come with me to Dollet. Mom and Dad won't mind. I swear. And you'll love my sis."

Ahndra focuses on the door again, but she can't step toward it. "I'm afraid, Marshal."

Marshal gently grips her arms to turn her to face him. "So am I. I'm afraid he's going to kill you if you don't come now."

Ahndra looks again to the apartments. "I don't know what to do."

Marshal watches her a moment before straightening and lowering his hands from her arms. She meets his gaze. "You've got to follow your heart, Ahndra."

_Tears shine in the young woman's eyes. "Follow my heart? Marshal, I want him to_ **love** _me."_

Marshal gives a slight nod. "I know, but maybe. . . maybe to do that you have to run away. Maybe he has to lose you to see he loves you?"

Ahndra's glistening eyes widen. "You think so?"

Marshal smiles and gives a slight shrug as he tucks his hands into his pockets. "Maybe."

Ahndra moves her gaze to the third story. Then she looks back to Marshal and smiles brightly. "I'll go get my things."

Marshal steps after her as she moves toward the apartments. "Ahndra, no. He'll catch you." He catches hold of her hand on the front steps. She faces him. "Ana, please. Let's go now. We can--"

"Marshal, I'll be very quiet. I've come in late before." She smiles brighter still and stands on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

She turns and hurries up the stairs. Marshal stares after her with an expression of worry and dread--

I sat up sharply, and confusion muddled my brain. I rubbed at my forehead with a slight frown. _That isn't right. . . is it?_ I looked over my left shoulder at Marshal as he slept and felt the confusion deepen. _I grew up with Seifer, not Marshal. I met Marshal at. . . ._ The location vanished, and I rubbed at my forehead a little harder. _I met Marshal at. . . ._ But it wouldn't come. I kept seeing him outside my apartments when I was fourteen. _But that was_ _Seifer_ , I reminded.

I slightly shook my head and laid back down. Marshal sleepily mumbled "You okay?" as he moved closer and wrapped his arms around me.

I tensed as I fought back the roar and need--"Fine."

He yawned and rested his chin in the nook of my shoulder and neck as he mumbled "Okay" and drifted to a deeper sleep, arms holding me against him.

I stared ahead in muted panic and. . . _and?_ I blinked and continued to stare blankly ahead as I studied within, the dark beckoning my mind back to the new nightmare as a different pair of arms held me. . .

...a young woman's awkward silence... "It's not a big deal. I tripped..." ... "It's nothing. Really. I shut my hand in the car door." ... "Oh. I'm fine. I bumped a can of soup out of the cupboard. It hit me in the eye." ... silent hours in her room, silent walks home; alone, staring off in space out the window, starting at the slightest sound...

...a small street in a bustling city... Deling City... Traffic sounds invade the silence as a young woman is escorted toward a three-story apartment complex by two young men walking on each side of her. The young woman has short, straight brunette hair with a mass of silver streaks throughout. Her face is solemn and shadowed with a slowly vanishing bruise on her right cheek. Scars and scratches have faded with the years, hidden now by always used make-up.

The young man on her right has short-cut blond hair and a brooding expression of withheld anger. He wears combat boots of black and military issue slacks and shirt of dark blue. A gunblade is holstered at his side.

The young man on her left has spiked black hair and an intensely watching silver gaze that holds an expression of concern as he occasionally glances her direction. He is dressed in jeans and a red t-shirt and holds her hand in a gentle clasp. The trio halts outside the entrance of the apartment building. Both young men face the young woman, who continues to stare at the road at her feet.

"Let me go up with you," the young blond insists in a sharp tone.

She shakes her head. "It's okay."

The young man with the black hair motions to the third story. "But it's late. He's going to be mad."

She raises sorrowful and dead eyes to the entrance of the building. "I'll be fine."

The young man with the black hair watches her face as the young blonde rubs at the back of his neck and releases a quick breath.

The young man with the black hair speaks next, softer. "Ahndra, why don't you finish your studies at Dollet. It'll be safer than staying here." Ahndra remains quiet and lowers her gaze to the ground again.

The young blond clenches his jaw. "I swear, if that damn drunk hits you one more time, I'm gonna rip his arm off and shove it up his ass."

Ahndra looks up. "Don't, Seifer. Please."

_Seifer motions behind him. "Then come to Balamb Garden. Headmaster Cid'll enroll you first thing! You won't need to come back here; ever!" He stretches his arms and hands toward her, ignoring her flinch. "I'll loan you some money, so you can get some clothes and shit. Hell, Headmaster Cid'll probably_ **give** _you some things. But you have to come now. If you don't. . ." The young man straightens and releases a deep breath. "Ahndra, If you don't, he's gonna kill you. I know it."_

Ahndra focuses on the door again, but she can't step toward it. "I don't know what to do."

The young man with the black hair gently grips her arms to turn her to face him. "Ana, you've got to follow your heart."

_Tears shine in the young woman's eyes. "Follow my heart? Marshal, I want him to_ **love** _me."_

Marshal gives a slight nod. "I know, but maybe. . . maybe to do that you have to run away. Maybe he has to lose you to see he loves you?"

Ahndra's glistening eyes widen. "You think so?"

Marshal smiles and gives a slight shrug as he tucks his hands into his pockets. "Maybe."

Ahndra moves her gaze to the third story. Then she looks back to Marshal and smiles brightly. "I'll go get my things."

Marshal steps after her as she moves toward the apartments. "Ahndra, no. He'll catch you." He catches hold of her hand on the front steps. She faces him. "Ana, please. Let's go now. We can--"

"Marshal, I'll be very quiet. I've come in late before." She smiles brighter still and stands on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

She turns and hurries up the stairs. Marshal and Seifer stare after her with expressions of worry and dread--

My eyes snapped open. _That isn't right. That isn't what happened!_ And yet the clarity of the memory argued my insistence. _I_ _didn't know_ _Marshal back then!_ But the words he said and the way they eased my mind. . . . I squeezed my eyes shut and slightly shook my head. "No," I whispered.

An arm adjusted itself around my mid-section, again causing my eyes to flash open. _Marshal._

"It's okay, Ana," he murmured sleepily. "You're safe." Marshal yawned and drew me a little closer against him. "Go to sleep."

My brain began to throb as my chest tightened with that something I didn't understand. I closed my eyes and brought a hand up to my scarred eye. It was still there. I hadn't escaped in time. _That wasn't the. . . way. . . ._ But I liked the new nightmare. Two friends. Two supports of strength. Two people who understood me.

I drew in a ragged breath, and again the arm drew me closer. Supporting. _Protecting?_ I hadn't ever been protected from my nightmares. Those had always been my own battle. My own private torture to withstand and survive again and again. I lowered my hand from my eye and then moved my other hand and arm to cover the one that wanted me.

The warmth and softness of his skin against mine tingled. I closed my eyes and released another breath. This one softer. Less ragged. Just a silent statement of disbelief at the new nightmare. . . _dream?_ I hadn't ever had one before...

...A young woman with brunette hair colored by streaks of gray walks softly and stealthily up the stairs to the third story of an apartment building, missing the creaky boards she knows so well. She treads down the long hallway with the torn carpet and peeling wallpaper with growing dread, her mouth going dry as nausea works its way into the deepest pit of her stomach and soul. She swallows hard, eyes focused on the farthest door.

She halts in front of it, pulling a single key from her pocket and biting her lower lip as she slips it into the lock--

The door is yanked open, light from beyond is shadowed by the massive frame. She cowers back as her wide-eyed gaze focuses on the heavy-lidded eyes of her father. His breath smells of stale beer and cigarettes. A pornographic movie is heard in the background, the moans and groans heightening Ahndra's dread.

"You little whore!" He grabs her arm and drags her forward. "What're you doin' out this late? Workin' the street for drugs? Blowin' each money-lovin' dickhead that puts his hand up your legs!"

He throws her forward ahead of him, keeping a vise-like hold on her hand as he slaps her hard across her face. She doesn't make a sound as blood drops from her broken lip. He slaps her again, so hard she drops to her knees.

"Yeah, that's right, you sex-hungry bitch. Get in the position." He begins to unfasten his belt. "I'll give you what you want!"

Ahndra stares up at him with sorrowful eyes. "Daddy, please. . . ."

He cuffs her hard. "Don't 'daddy' me!"

She chokes back a sob, and he grabs her up and throws her across the room toward her bedroom. "Get in there!" He follows after her, pushing and shoving at her trembling form. "You want it so bad, I'll sex you up!"

She bites back a whimper as he shoves her further into her room--She trips over the tattered carpet and turns, falling into the old desk to the left of her bed. He strides forward as she struggles to her feet, grabbing her by the arm to lift her the remaining way. Blood gushes from her left eye. He cringes in disgust and pushes her away. She falls back, smacking her head on the desk and tumbling to the floor.

clomp clomp clomp clomp

"Get away from her!"

The man turns sharply to see a towering form filling the doorway. A blond haired young man dressed in a military-type uniform of dark blue strides forward and grabs him by the shirtfront, lifting him several inches from the ground.

"You bastard," the young man hisses.

Another young man enters the room, this one in jeans and a red t-shirt with black hair and charcoal-silver eyes. "Ahndra!" The young man strides forward, gently holding the young woman by the upper arms and pulling her up from the floor. Blood continues to ooze from her left eye and her head falls limply back. "Ana. . . ."

The young blond looks over to the crumpled form before focusing his gaze back on the older man. Rage and revenge flash in the young man's dark eyes. "I'm gonna kill you, you sack of shit."

The young man punches the father in the face to the sound of cracking bones. Blood splatters the young man's clothes and the floor at his feet. The father groans in pain and goes limp. The young man tosses him hard to the left, sending him into the far wall with a loud crash and crunch. The father slumps to the ground.

The young man with the pained silver eyes lifts the young woman up into his arms as the young blond retrieves a phone from a holster on his hip. They stride from the bedroom--

I gasped and sat up.

"Ahndra?" Marshal sat up as well.

_No! It_ _didn't happen_ _that way! Marshal wasn't there!_ Two different nightmares so horribly twisted together.

Marshal rested a hand on my back, and I sent him a curt shake of my head. He lowered his hand. "Hey. What's the matter?"

"It's wrong." I shook my head and gripped the blankets. "All wrong."

He carefully watched my profile. "What is?"

I met his gaze. "You weren't there," I pressed.

Marshal's expression grew wary. "I wasn't where?"

"In my life. Not before. Why now?"

He regarded me before cautiously saying "I'm not sure I understand what you're saying, chicklit."

"My dreams. Why are you there?" I shook my head. "You weren't!"

Marshal lightly scratched at his scalp, still watching me. Then he released a deep breath and laid onto his left side, holding his weight up with his arm and elbow. "Ahndra, calm down and try again," he finally said. "You're not making sense, and I can't answer the question if I don't understand it."

I pressed my lips together and moved my focus to the opposite wall, gathering my calm and the questions and pushing aside the confusion. "Dreams have always been scenes from my life," I said succinctly and slowly. I met his gaze. "You were not in my life. You were not in my dreams. Now you are in one though you were not in the other. **Why**?"

Marshal lowered his gaze to the blankets and picked at a loose string. I watched him and felt my confusion grow.

"You weren't," I pressed. But his expression. . . . "Were you?"

Marshal cleared his throat and didn't look up. "I've, uh. . . ." He absently scrubbed at his scalp again before giving a deep sigh and rolling over to grab his handheld from the side-table. Marshal then punched in a few codes and hit the 'execute' button. A few moments later, the power in Winhill blacked out. The 'power override' feature of the security handheld was a last-resort. That Marshal had used it, thereby negating any listening/watching devices, spoke of the gravity of what he was about to tell me. After all, he could likely have just blown our cover.

He set the handheld back onto the side-table and finally raised his gaze to meet mine. "I've been friends with Seifer a couple years longer than you."

". . .what."

"I used to live in Deling City."

I could feel the blood leave my face. The wrong number that Seifer had called, thereby meeting me. . . .

Marshal hurried on. "Seifer and I lost touch a while after my family moved to Dollet, probably about four or five years ago." He lowered his gaze and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Before we moved I, uh, that is, Seifer asked me to--Shit."

He raised his eyes to again meet mine. My stomach slithered and my insides twisted. _No._

Marshal released a quick breath. "Seifer called me up one day to help him beat the crap out of someone. Said somebody beat on one of his friends. So I came out."

I lowered my gaze, eyes wide with shock.

"You never did ask when I first met you. It was at your apartment. I helped take you to the hospital." Marshal stretched out a hand. "I only knew your name, and Seifer didn't give me any details except that your father was a bastard that beat on you. I didn't figure out you were her until. . . ." Marshal lowered his hand and eyes. "I didn't figure it out until earlier today. Feel like a damned idiot, too."

I blinked and slightly shook my head, shock numbing everything. "You. . . were there?"

_Why didn't I remember it before. Why now?_ It didn't make sense. Why would I have forgotten him and not Seifer? I shook my head again. It was impossible. Marshal had been living in Dollet. He **couldn't** have been at my final beating before my escape. It was impossible!

"Of course, you were only, like, thirteen when I first met you," he said absently.

Confusion roared, making my brain throb as I looked up. Marshal met my gaze. "Thirteen?"

Marshal regarded me a second before slowly saying "Yeah. Your father had messed you up real bad, and we didn't get the chance to return the favor. You were down at the bottom of the steps. Seifer and I--"

I covered my face with my hands. _Bottom of the steps. First rape. Not final beating._ I was so confused, splicing dreams and memories and confusing those facts I had.

"Ana?" Marshal gently gripped my arm.

". . .fine" Only confused. Why did I remember Marshal being there outside my apartment at fourteen? Why did I also see him there at my final beating? **Seifer** had been there. Not Marshal. By his own confession he had first met me at the bottom of the steps!

The power 'clunked' and came back on. I gave a slight twitch.

Marshal rubbed my upper arm with a whispered "Damn it." Then I felt the shift and heard the shuffle as he sat back up. "You going to be able to sleep?" he asked softly.

I released a shudder of a breath. I didn't know. I was so confused. I didn't understand his presence in the dream if he wasn't there. If he **hadn't** been there.

"Do you need some space?"

I lowered my hands and sharply looked over at him, my mind flaring with panic. "What? Why?"

He held my gaze with that same calm expression of seriousness. "Well. . . ." he lowered his voice to a bare whisper "I should have told you before" and then raised the volume to say "Because you always need that when you have a nightmare."

I held his gaze. Yes. He should have told me. But I didn't care. I tried to **forget** my past. Him telling me more about it would have been unwise. I likely would have hated him for it. Besides, it didn't matter he had met me before. . . _did it?_

I looked away and laid back, aware of Marshal watching me as I rolled over onto my right side. "Stay." And when had I ever said that?

Marshal released a slow and deep breath, and I heard him scrub at his scalp before he laid down beside me. Two friends. Two rescuers. All this time I had them and I didn't know it. I blinked the burning from my eyes as I hugged the blankets closer. Two friends. Two rescuers. I heard the sound of his head on the pillow as he looked over at me. Then he shifted. I expected to feel his arm, but it didn't come. I shifted and looked over at Marshal's back. I stared at it, numbed silence within. Then I moved closer, wrapping my arms around him as I pressed myself--

Marshal tensed. I shrunk back, quickly rolling onto my other side.

I heard him shift with a whispered "Shit" before he carefully touched my arm. I leaned a bit away.

"Ana, I'm sorry. I didn't expect. . . I mean--" Marshal released a deep breath and softly asked, "Can I hold you?"

He could. He had before. Like no one ever had. Not even my father. I closed my eyes and released a deep breath as I shifted to face him. Marshal drew me close, his arms surrounding me as I tried to relax my head onto his chest. Then the stroke on my hair began. My entire body relaxed as the darkness beckoned. I had to understand. I had to try and remember the nightmare...

...a small apartment in a bustling city... Deling City. Traffic sounds invade the sleeping silence of a new teen's room. The fumbling of a key in the lock of the front door doesn't wake her. Neither does the unsteady twist of the knob. The door is pushed open to reveal the reddened face of a man in uniform. He staggers forward, glazed eyes searching the apartment as he wipes spittle from his lips with the back of his hand. His glazed eyes struggle to focus on the first room down the hall.

He smirks and staggers forward.

The thirteen-year-old within still sleeps.

The man--her father--stumbles into the doorway, leaning hard against the frame as his eyes focus on the slight form in the small bed. The glaze in his eyes changes as he steps forward and rips the covers from the bed. The young teen gasps and looks up, eyes widening in terror as she focuses on the expression of the man standing over her.

"Ahndra, come 'ere."

"No, Daddy. . . please," she cries softly, scrambling backwards.

He grabs her ankles and yanks her roughly toward him.

"Come 'ere! You know you want it!" He pulls her closer, one hand groping to remove clothes as she pushes and cries.

"No! No, I don't. I don't! STOP!"

His face looms closer, his breath hot against her face as his weight crushes against her. She continues to struggle, pushing away and beating against his chest as she turns her face from side-to-side.

"No! Get off. . ." she chokes out.

_Pain_ _\--_ oh how I remembered that pain-- _She screams, and he beats her across the face until the darkness beckons._

My eyes flashed open at the rough shake, and my burning eyes focused on Marshal's silver gaze. I choked on a sob and covered my face with my hands.

"Ahndra, god damn it." Marshal drew my trembling body against him and again stroked my hair. "Stop reliving it."

I shuddered against him, not knowing how to explain that I had to. I had to try and remember the truth. I had to.

...The young teen awakens in a muted state of minimal awareness, pain and misery the brightest facets of her world. She groans and pushes a leaden weight off of her, feeling the freedom in a tired and ragged portion of her mind and soul as she tumbles from the bed. Blood drips from her mouth and nose as every part of her body aches and cringes with pain.

_She delves deep into herself and summons the strength to push herself to her feet. The name_ Seifer _drags her forward and out of the room. She staggers and stumbles down the hall, leaving a bloody trail and bloody fingerprints on the wall where she leans to rest. Still the name pushes her forward._

Reality fades in and out as something within urges her out of the apartment and down the hall. She falls down more steps than she walks, clutching something against her for protection from the pain, but it doesn't work and that pain presses her onward.

Strength depleted, she crumbles into a heap at the foot of the stairs to hear the familiar clump of booted feet and the muted sound of two voices.

...darkness swallows everything...

_...darkness and fog... muted voices..._ I push through the slush and sludge to those voices, trying to hear. Trying to remember so that I can beat back the insanity to the peace I want... so bad...

"Damn it, Seifer. Why haven't you dragged her off to Balamb?"

...Marshal's voice...

_"I've_ **tried** _, but she_ **won't go** _!"_

"Why the hell not? Look what he did to her!"

_Rustle of clothes and a slam of a body against the wall. "God damn it I can_ **see** _what he did! But it doesn't change that she won't leave, and I can't force her to do anything! He's her legal guardian, asshole! He's got to give her his god damned permission before Cid'll accept her!"_

...darkness begins to push in, and I try to fight it back. It wins in the end... the darkness always wins...

I drew in a ragged breath. A surrounding warmth moved slightly, drawing me closer than I had ever been to anyone. Marshal had been there. And the rediscovered fact stole away some of the panic that I might have drifted into insanity. I had just blocked the memory of that first rape. To preserve what little peace I had. All I had let myself remember was the clearest vision: Seifer. Marshal had just been a voice. A voice which I only now recognized.

But then why did I remember him pressing me to move to Dollet if he hadn't been there? I didn't understand why I remembered it now and not before. If he had truly been there I should have relived the nightmare all these years.

"Why? Why?" I whispered, and I could barely hear myself.

I heard a whispered "Shh." and then a caress of lips on the skin of my face. "Try to sleep, Ana. Please."

But how could I sleep when the nightmares couldn't be trusted. They presented a twisted picture. I needed facts. Truths. Certainties. If I didn't get those, I **would** go mad.
Chapter Thirteen

Pieces

I pushed away my plate, the breakfast untouched, and stared outside the restaurant window. Nightmares and dreams left me numb and exhausted, questions still unanswered. I slowly blinked. Images had been seared into my brain with the continued viewing, not even vanishing now that I sat awake. Voices. Memories. Words. Truths. I didn't know what to believe, and I could feel the numbness gaining strength, pushing everything else further back, protecting me from a past that confused me.

A warm touch enfolding my hand drew me back from the numbness, reminding of a safer touch. A brighter memory. I grabbed onto the feeling and fought the numbness back. I couldn't give up. I had to find the answers. I **had** to--My eyes focused on the roof of the tree-fort, and my mind snapped to attention. I stood and turned, my hand holding firmly onto the touch and pulling the owner along behind me. Answers would be found there. Questions could be asked there.

I exited the restaurant within the inn and strode toward the path that led around behind City Hall to the tree-fort. I climbed the ladder one-handed, still firmly holding onto the touch that kept the numbness at bay. I pulled myself up into the tree-fort, remaining on my knees as I heaved the toucher along behind. Then I felt the warmth of a body near mine and faced it.

Silver eyes examined my expressions to piece a puzzle I had hidden from people for so long. I needed those pieces. "Mar--"

"Wait." He retrieved his handheld from his back pocket to enter the command functions one-handed, his other still holding mine.

I watched his face, desperation rising within at the press of the questions and the need to know. I gripped the hand tighter, and it returned the pressure.

"I know," he whispered. Marshal punched a few more codes before setting it away and facing me. "An--"

I grabbed his denim jacket. " **Tell me** ," I ordered.

Marshal slightly nodded. "I will, Ana, but I need to know **what** you need me to tell you. What are you trying to remember?"

"You," I hissed, barely able to control the panicked need for sanity. "Marshal, why do I remember a fact not real? Why do I hear words not said? Why do I see a face not there?"

Marshal held my wide-eyed gaze. "What fact, Ahndra?"

"You," I pressed.

Marshal's brow furrowed slightly. "Okay. What words? Tell me the words said."

They were burned into my brain. Every inflection. Every expression. "' _Ahndra, why don't you finish your studies at Dollet. It'll be safer than staying here. Ana, please. I don't want him to hurt you anymore. Come with me to Dollet. Mom and Dad won't mind. I swear. And you'll love my sis.'_ " I shook him. "How can I hear these words not said? **You weren't there**!"

"Oh my god, Ahndra, is that--Yes, I was. I **did** say that to you."

I shook my head. "No. Impossible! I don't remember! **I didn't remember**!"

Marshal pulled my hands from his jacket, still holding my gaze. "Seifer and I took you to the Tomb. He came over for a Garden Training and dragged us along. I hadn't seen him for a year because of moving to Dollet, and it was the first time you and I really got to meet and talk about stuff."

I shook my head as he spoke. I didn't remember. I didn't remember **any** of it. "No--No!" I pulled free, still shaking my head. "I don't remember!"

"It's true, Ahndra. I swear. Just ask Seifer."

My eye and brain began to throb. I closed my eyes and held my head in my hands. "No."

Marshal enfolded my upper arms in his hands. "Seifer and I were trying to get you to run away, me to Dollet because I knew it would be illegal for you to enroll at Garden, and Seifer to Garden because he figured you could file for Independence. We didn't care what you did, we just wanted you out of there!"

Then why had I stayed? Why had I been raped **again**.

"When you didn't come down, Seifer and I called the police. We hoped your father would finally get thrown in jail and you could transfer guardianship to Garden. He **did** go to jail, but by the time your two weeks were up in the hospital, he'd posted bail and entered rehab. You were sure he'd changed and so you wouldn't leave. Seifer was mad as hell, but he couldn't leave Garden to drag your ass over there because of his Field Exam. I couldn't leave Dollet because of school. Closed campus. I tried. **Damn it** I tried.

"Then I got the call from Seifer that you were finally transferring. I'd graduated regular school and attended a private university by then, so I cut class and booked ass over to Deling to help Seifer make sure your dad wouldn't make trouble. My train ran late, and so when we finally got to your place. . . ." Marshal swore. "Seifer went ape-shit--"

"NO." My head snapped up, and I only vaguely recognized the wetness streaming down my cheeks. "You weren't there!" I insisted. "I would remember! I would. . . remember." I blinked into Marshal's helpless and pained expression as an odd wetness dripped from my jaw. I didn't understand why I wouldn't remember Marshal. Why had my mind cut him out of my life? Why had he vanished? Disappeared. "Why don't I remember you?" I whispered.

Marshal very slightly shook his head. "I don't know."

I covered my face with my hands. "Damn you, Seifer." He knew. He **knew**. I choked. Marshal surrounded me with his arms, but I pushed him away. "You lie!" I hissed. "How do you forget **this**?" I gestured harshly to my eye.

"Ana, I swear--"

"You did **not** know me!" Marshal's expression began to change to harden, but I pushed it. "Why were you not at the hospital? Why did you not visit, like Seifer? No! **You were not there**!"

Marshal's eyes flashed. "Like hell I wasn't! That first day I stayed **right there**. You never once woke up, and it scared the shit out of me! I thought you were going to die, and I couldn't face that. So, yeah, I left and I didn't come back. I figured Seifer would tell me if you made it. He knew how I felt. Only he didn't, the bastard. All these years I thought you were dead. Hell! Maybe that's why I wanted to get to know you better? Because you looked like the kid I knew back then!" Marshal leaned close as he pointed roughly into my chest. "But I'll be damned if I let you say I wasn't there. I saw your hell, god damn it, and it twisted me up inside!"

I held his gaze, meeting his glare for glare as the numbness was burned and vanished. Relief flooded, but still I glared. Tension eased and desperation melted away, but still I glared.

Marshal lowered his finger from my chest, but his glare didn't lessen. "I'm sorry for not telling you before. This damned situation has made it near impossible to talk about **any** thing. I guess I should have tried a little harder, but I'll be damned if I knew how to say it. I was still in shock. Mad as hell that Seifer didn't tell me, too. The damned punk. Should've beat the shit out of him years ago."

...holding hands. The expression of concern. The kiss on the cheek... But still I glared.

Marshal threw his hands up into the air. "Fine." He moved to the trap door and made as if to start down. He stopped and met my glare with his. "I was **there** , Ahndra. Maybe not as much as I wanted to be, but enough to know who you were. Enough to think maybe you and I could work. Believe me or not. I guess it doesn't matter--Hell. Yes it does. But you're going to do what you're going to do. You always did."

He lowered his head and started down again.

I reached out and held his face in my hands, lifting it so that I could look into those eyes. I had to believe him. I didn't have anything else, and I needed this history. A better one than what my mind had left me. Two friends. Two rescuers. Two sources of strength when I hadn't had any.

"I was **there** , Ana," he said again. "I swear."

I only vaguely noticed my thumbs caressing his face as I held it. I slightly nodded. Marshal. I knew him; I just had to remember. I had to reason why I had forgotten.

*

Marshal twitched and then chuckled as he set down his coffee mug to free his handheld from his back pocket. "Someone must be mad that I'm enjoying my vacation."

I arched an eyebrow and set down my coffee cup as well. We were at the inn's restaurant hoping to catch sight of either suspicious characters found in Sally's report; or even the man from Marshal's past. In the meantime, he told stories of his past adventures with Seifer, in code of course, in hopes I would remember him telling me the same during our trip to the Tomb near Deling.

Up to this point, no memories surfaced.

Marshal accessed the email and chuckled again. "Damn. Here, chicklit. Check it out."

I retrieved the handheld. _'Bingo. Get on with it and get your ass back to work.'_ I smirked.

"I guess I should get those pictures taken. Huh? Boss-man sounds pissed, and we've only been here one day."

_One day._ It seemed a week. I passed the handheld back. Hopefully the information found on those people from Marshal's past would help Trepe on her undercover mission. Now we had but to finish our original investigation of the surveyor and the landowners.

"So." Marshal took up his coffee mug and asked, "Which property you like?" at the same time he stroked the inside of my leg with his knee.

A negative/positive of wearing shorts.

My stomach tumbled and twisted, but I forced a calm expression as I also sipped my coffee. My head began to throb. "I don't believe they want to sell to strangers, Blake," I said calmly, pushing his touch away. I crossed my legs.

"Don't be silly, chicklit," he said, and his knee changed tactics, stroking my outer thigh instead. "Like I said, we've only been here a day. We just need to try a little harder."

My insides tightened and my skin tingled as I fought back the whole-body shiver. My focus slipped from Marshal's face once or twice, but I dragged it back. "Could we talk to the surveyor today?" I crossed my legs the other direction and pushed his knee away with my sandaled foot.

His eyes twinkled. "Sure thing. We just have to find out where he lives."

A waiter approached our table with more coffee and inquiries as to whether we needed anything. Marshal inquired about the surveyor's location the same time I felt his fingers caress the skin of my lower leg and knee. I straightened and sat back, desperately trying to quiet the roar as Marshal sent me a sidelong glance. I didn't meet it.

The waiter gave directions and then left. Marshal focused back on me. "Ahndra." He looked down to his refilled coffee mug when I didn't look up. "I, uh, I used to tease you, erm, before." He cleared his throat and sent me a glance. "Sorry."

This time I watched Marshal's expression. I could always tell when his apology went deeper than the initial word. Something shined differently about his face and eyes when he felt more than 'sorry'. Of course, his apology and his explanation didn't soothe the internal reaction to his continual touch. I had grown accustomed to him asking permission. . . and yet, there had been something more pleasing in the unexpected touch. A little 'more' of that newly found drug my body craved so continuously.

I looked down again. Curiosity and intrigue pushed me forward, and I re-crossed my legs and began lightly caressing Marshal's calf with the top of my foot. My skin tingled as my insides roared. I could feel Marshal's surprised glace, and then he smiled and slightly nudged my foot with his leg. I only continued to stare into my coffee. Yes. It was 'more' while being less--

Marshal stiffened. I looked up to see him staring down into his tightly gripped coffee cup. I again stroked his calf, and he briefly glanced toward the entrance of the inn with a whispered "Shit."

An eyebrow twitched and I casually glanced--My face hardened as my temper flared. The man from before had entered the inn and now talked with the clerk at the reception desk. I moved my focus back to Marshal and found that my foot had begun a rhythmic and steady stroke of his leg. I didn't stop. I couldn't.

"Soon," I said in a low tone. And vengeance would be sweet, I would see to that. Five years of plotting a never-attained revenge made one quite proficient.

"Hey."

Marshal's grip tightened even more around his coffee mug. My foot momentarily paused the soft and slight stroke of his leg. I resumed as I looked to my left. The man from before stood there with a slight smile on his face.

I forced one. "Hello."

"Did you get to talk to anyone about that property you were looking at?"

I noticed that Marshal forced himself to show interest in the conversation by lifting his gaze from the coffee cup. I shook my head as I replied "No, and Blake and I need to buy as soon as possible. The wedding. . . ."

The man nodded in understanding as his nearly black eyes took in both my unique facial characteristics and Marshal's barely civil expression. I continued to stroke Marshal's leg, and it seemed that he almost pressed his leg against my foot for an enhancement of the action.

"Geez. That's too weird. I just talked to him this morning and he said he was going to let the reception clerk here know to tell you he would be back in town tomorrow. That way he could talk to you about it."

"Oh. We can wait."

"That's good. I'll let him know. Any particular time tomorrow?"

I looked to Marshal. "Before lunch?"

Marshal met my gaze, and I could see his jaw muscle twitching. "That's fine."

Much to my surprise, I **felt** like reaching out to hold Marshal's hand for extra support and strength. I blinked, noticed Marshal's change in expression to my reaction, and then forced myself to focus on the man beside our table.

"Before lunch would do well."

"Right-O. I'll let you know when I hear from him."

"Thank you."

The man smiled briefly and then turned away. I stared after him with slightly narrowed eyes. Second meeting. Still no introduction with name or identification of position there within Winhill (i.e. farmer, banker, etc). My instincts screamed 'suspicious' with such clarity I felt sure the man could hear it.

He left the inn without a look backward.

I tapped my fingers on the table, giving a blink of surprise when Marshal's hand covered mine. I looked over at him and met his silver-charcoal gaze.

"I owe you."

I arched an eyebrow. "For?"

"For handling everything. It looks like I'm not as good at this as I thought I was."

But I understood how our past horrors effected the performance of our duty. Marshal hadn't had the day to transition himself into the possibility of meeting his sister's murderer. Considering that fact, I felt a muted respect and admiration for how well he **had** handled things.
I adjusted my hand in his to give him a firm squeeze. "You are."

Marshal held my gaze for a long moment before doing something I had never even imagined. He kissed my palm. A shiver waved down my body from toes to fingertips and back as I stared at him with wide-eyed.

He smiled softly and then caressed the top of my hand with his thumb. "Thanks, Ana."

My insides tightened and my skin tingled at the way he said my name. As before. In his arms. I swallowed hard and lowered my eyes with a whispered "You're welcome."

Marshal's smile widened slightly as he again softly nudged my foot still absently stroking his skin. "I guess we should stop wasting time and go find the surveyor. What's his name?"

But I couldn't remember. I couldn't retain anything but his touch and the tingle and the memory of a kiss.

*

knock-knock-knock

Marshal rubbed at the back of his neck as we stood outside the surveyor's home. It had been quite a jaunt, the property being on the extreme edge of Winhill's boundaries and beyond. That time away from possible listeners had given the two of us a chance to plot an 'avenue of attack' in order to coerce, manipulate the surveyor into giving us the information we needed. Whether it would prove him innocent or suspect didn't matter. I wanted to get this mission done.

"Come on," Marshal muttered. He knocked again. "The last thing we need is to have come all the way out here only to hike all the way back with nothing but a wedgie."

I lowered my head with a slight smirk and adjusted my crossed arms.

"Don't laugh," he said without sending me a glance.

"Too late."

Marshal scoffed, but it sounded like a chuckle. This time he looked my direction. "I'll get you later, you know."

I didn't look up. "Try."

"Oh really. I'll take you up on that challenge, chicklit. Just you wait."

"Tremble and terror."

Marshal laughed just as the door opened. The surveyor, Timothi Rasmusen, was a somewhat tall and gangly individual with carrot-red hair and green eyes too-large for his face. I frowned and adjusted my crossed arms. He wasn't very pleasant to look at, and his 'persona' immediately rubbed me the wrong way.

Marshal presented a hand. "Hi. I'm Blake Rankin." They shook hands and Mr. Rasmusen, roughly looking to be in his mid-thirties, looked from Marshal to me with a curious expression. "This is my fiancée, Ahndra Taylor."

I did my best impression of a shy smile and briefly and 'timidly' shook his hand. His hold was nothing short of sloppy and made my skin crawl. I pulled my hand away and just kept from rubbing it on my shorts. Instead, I took Marshal's hand and nearly released a breath of relief.

Marshal's smile widened, and he gave my hand a succession of squeezes. "Is it a bad time? We hoped to ask some questions about stuff."

"Oh. Well." He sent a glance over his shoulder as he scrubbed at his scalp.

I immediately filed the reaction and intensely scrutinized his expressions.

"I promise we'll be out of your hair in, say, ten minutes?"

Mr. Rasmusen lowered his hand. "What's it about?"

"Well, Ana and I are looking into buying some property here, for building a house you know, and we hoped to find a local surveyor to scope out the lots and give us some ideas."

"What property?"

I deepened my scrutiny of Mr. Rasmusen as Marshal described the location of the two lots adjacent to the proposed site of the Winhill Garden. Facial tic. Slight discoloration of the face and neck. Brief fisting of the hand not holding the door. Sudden clenching of jaw. I gave Marshal's hand a succession of coded squeezes. He didn't break rhythm of speech.

"Have they said they're going to sell?" Mr. Rasmusen asked calmly enough.

Marshal shook his head and answered my squeezes with a short reply as he answered "No. We're going to be meeting with one of them tomorrow before lunch. Did you want us to wait until after that meeting before asking?"

"I'd recommend it. You see, I don't think they're selling." Mr. Rasmusen sent another look behind his shoulder as well as a narrowed-eyed gaze behind us. "I really believe you folks should look elsewhere. Winhill has a lot of marshland that floods in the spring. It would add extra cost to your building. Young couple like you? Try building outside Balamb."

Marshal smiled and gave a thanking nod. "Thanks for the input. I-- **We** appreciate it."

"Sure. Have a nice day." He closed the door.

We turned and headed back the way we came.

"Damn," Marshal muttered. He sent me a sidelong glance. "I thought that guy would shit bricks. Somebody has him spooked."

I absently nodded as I stared ahead.

"And he tried to persuade us to leave Winhill before talking to the landowner, while the other guy is trying to get us to stay. Everything about this just screams 'Suspicious'."

I very slightly inclined my head.

My skin tingled as Marshal regarded me. "Hey, chicklit. You think you could tell me what you're thinking?"

"Plot."

"Figured that. Details?"

My mind delved deeper, but I gave a brief shake of my head. "Wait."

"Sure thing. I guess we can try and track down the other landowner. . . ." My skin tingled even more. "Unless you want to get 'lost' and keep thinking things out?"

"Yes," I answered absently.

Surveyor showing signs of terror with a missing wife in an unverifiable location. Same surveyor has reported connection with radicals that have since proved to be fugitives from the law. Presence of possible AWOL Galbadian soldiers/SeeDs responsible for murder, whom also show some type of connection to the present situation in Deling (as reported by Seifer's 'Bingo'). Inability to verify existence of landowners other than unverifiable photos on file with Winhill City Hall.

I arched an eyebrow. Winhill was located between Trabia and Deling Gardens. Neutral ground for outside influences to meet and make necessary purchases. Empty lots provide suitable secrecy and room for weapons sales and delivery within the evening hours. Winhill's location provides suitable distance from military security personnel. I looked over at Marshal and vaguely noticed an odd smile on his face as he watched me. "Handheld."

"Sure." He released my hand and retrieved the requested item from his back pocket. He handed it over with a continued smile.

I accessed the secure email account and typed in the appropriate passwords to activate the satellite link.

'Surveyor showing signs of outside manipulation in order to sway expertise. Recommend immediate search and possible rescue of wife from facility near or around Esthar as per Regal's report. Meeting with one of two landowners is arranged. Have suspicion one if not both landowners are fictitious and will in actuality be additional accomplices responsible for Katie Beita's murder. No proof if cover still intact.'

I scrambled the message and sent it. Then I gave the handheld back.

Marshal accepted it. He smiled wide. "Starting to get interesting, huh?"

Interesting? I smirked and turned to walk again toward Winhill. I wouldn't have come if I suspected otherwise.

"So. . ." Marshal sent me a sidelong glance. "Now what?"

I checked my watch. "Lunch."

"Can we fool around in the tree-fort?"

My chest tightened as I stopped and sent him a look complete with arched eyebrow and crossed arms. "What?" I hadn't heard a more agreeable suggestion.

Marshal grinned. "Please?"

Every part of me screamed _Hell yes!_ , but I turned and continued walking toward town without comment.

"Oh come on. I haven't had a chance to play in a tree-fort since I was a kid. And it'd be a great place for me to take pictures of Winhill. For my cover." Marshal gestured to me. "And you could take notes, or whatever, for the meeting with the landowner tomorrow."

Disappointment shouldn't have felt **quite** so. . . . "Perhaps."

Marshal made a slight but noticeable exultant gesture with a fisted hand before drawing me close with an arm around my shoulders. I nearly stumbled at the sudden feeling of welcome warmth and the tingle. _Hyne._

"We, Seifer and I, plotted and planned to build a tree-fort a couple months after we met. It never happened, though. Damn shame. But he still held the rank of junior classman back then and only came to Deling City with his class for lectures and shit at the Caraway Mansion." Marshal chuckled. "His classes always sounded a helluva lot better than mine. I don't understand why he bitched all the time. I mean, he learns how to beat the hell out of someone and I'm learning math and literature. 'Course, I'm two years older. I guess I had the harder classes before he did."

A memory tingled. "Tree fort," I repeated absently.

Marshal regarded my profile. "You remember something?"

"Fort." I looked over at him. "You mentioned a fort on the trip to the Tomb."

Marshal smiled. "You're right. Seifer and I were 'remember when'ing at you." He gave my shoulders a squeeze. "Cool. You remembered. Of course, you thought the idea of a tree-fort was pretty spectacular. Don't get why." Marshal watched my face as I looked again down the road. "Maybe because you wanted to get away from the bastard."

I kept my mind silent.

"We tried to use that as a bribe to get you to move away. You remember?"

My mind delved. "No."

"Oh well. Hey." Another squeeze, longer this time. "At least you remembered **some** thing."

And that was so painfully true. Finding puzzle pieces lost for years was more difficult than anything I'd had to do before. Especially when I didn't know what they looked like.

"Don't try too hard," Marshal said quietly. "The pieces never fit when we force them."

I absently nodded. I had to be taught to kiss and touch without force. Did I know how to do anything softly? I fisted my hand--I felt a touch on my right cheek and looked sharply over at Marshal.

He smiled. "Relax. It'll come."

I held his gaze a moment before looking away. One of the pieces had to be the right 'reason'.

*

I stared out the window of the tree-fort to the city below, watching in disinterest as the people began preparing for sleep and slumber. Quiet discussions of plans for the next morning. Dinner invitations. Future plans, I had watched it all before, in Deling, but this was somehow different. I didn't understand why. Maybe because my father wasn't paired with any part of it.

The breeze rustled the sheaf of papers in my hand. I looked down. Marshal and I spent most of the day in the tree-fort working on the mission, posing questions and situation possibilities. We had only come down for lunch and then immediately returned. Working out more possibilities. More questions. More options of action.

I frowned at the papers. Notes. Reasoning. Questions. Plans. Everything cold and controlled. I set them roughly away and looked again to town below. When I heard a click, I focused to my right to see Marshal previewing a picture.

He pushed a few buttons. "I'm keeping this one," he said. "Damn."

I looked again outside as Marshal came to lean against the wall to the right of the window.

He took up the papers and nodded in approval. "I'm glad you're on my side."

Sides. What side had I ever been on but my own? Wasn't I still? The only reason I kept on with this assignment was because it would effect my career, my standing with Garden, and my relationship with Seifer. I wasn't on a 'side' of anyone. I didn't even have an idea of how to change that.

Marshal handed the papers back. I took them without altering my view. "Ana?"

Curiosity at the tone made me face him.

He slightly smiled and adjusted his position against the wall of the tree-fort. "You think we could get together after this is all over? You know. Go to the movies. Dinner. Like that."

Continue showing a weakness and a thirst for something I hadn't had? Continue letting him see who I was while knowing I wasn't who he remembered? I looked away. Bittersweet terror.

"I could bring over the letters we wrote back and forth. Maybe it'll help."

I faced him again. "Letters?"

"Sure. You don't think I got hooked on you after one trek to the Tomb, do you? Hell no. We wrote letters back and forth for, Hyne, like six months or something before we even met in person. I sent them to your school, same as Seifer did. Then we kept on after that."

The kiss on the cheek. The holding of hands. I examined Marshal's face. _Why don't I remember?_ It didn't make sense that I would cut his face out of my dreams if he and I had been close.

Marshal released a heavy breath as he moved to sit beside me on the box by the window. He rested a hand on my knee. "Ana, don't sweat it. There's got to be a reason you don't remember. We'll just talk to the psychiatrist we've got on staff. Squall said they really know their stuff. Helped him make sense out of a lot of shit. That's why he made everyone's ass sit in that chair--even Seifer."

And I remembered the few weeks I had to sit across from the older man with the balding head and the understanding eyes who listened. I hadn't said much, I never said much, but that hadn't stopped the doctor from knowing something was soon going to snap. He told me that one day the anger and rage would push and, if I didn't control it, I would become no better than that person I hated. If I controlled it, I would do something I wanted to do for years. And hadn't I?

Maybe the doctor's words had given me the permission to do it.

Marshal's thumb caressed the skin of my knee. I stared down at it. Not thinking anything. Not able to, and yet--I looked up again, meeting his silver eyes. What was I **supposed** to think? I still didn't know what I was **expected** to do. And the feeling of complete freedom of choice proved to be more of a terror than the intense need for a completion of his touch.

What if I chose wrong?

**Was** there a 'wrong'?

_'I'd be doing it for the wrong reason. I'm not going to take advantage of you. I won't take what you don't want to give_ _me_ _.'_ I arched an eyebrow and slightly lowered my gaze to focus within. I wanted a different memory, and it hadn't mattered whose face was within it as long as it wasn't my father's. I would have taken the memory and the face from Seifer if his touch hadn't been as rough as that which my father had given.

_'I won't take what you don't want to give_ _me_ _.'_

I again met Marshal's silver scrutiny and the look that saw deeper. _'Me.'_

Marshal cleared his throat and pulled his hand from my knee. He stood. "I think we better get down and go to be--Go to sleep. We don't know what to expect tomorrow, so it'd be good to be wide awake." He went to stand by the ladder down and stared at it with a fist on his hip as he scrubbed at his scalp and neck. "Ladies first," he mumbled.

I stood and stepped toward him, noticing his brief glances and the slight tensing of his body. I continued forward, backing him against the far wall of the tree-fort. Marshal stared down at me with a somewhat terrified expression as he pressed himself back against it. I clenched the front of his denim shirt and pulled him toward me until our chests touched. His heart beat faster, echoing mine. "Is the 'right reason' a desire to have the completion from one specific person?"

Marshal swallowed hard. "Oh yeah," he whispered roughly.

I held his gaze, my own expression firming with determination. "I **will** remember you."

Marshal held my gaze. . . and then he wrapped his arms around me to draw me close, drawing out that part of me I so tenaciously protected while coaxing a memory of a kiss I wanted but never had. A young girl's romantic dream.

He touched his lips to my neck and throat. "Damn." And then he was gently pushing me back. "Ana, I need you to do me a favor." I said nothing. I only watched him. "When we get back to our room, I'm going to change and then go for a jog."

I slowly nodded. We had discussed this as a tactic/ploy to look around the area for the possible location of the arms sales and/or the hideouts of the radicals responsible.

"I need you to stay and go to sleep."

I blinked and then arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"I'll give you a report when you wake up in the morning. I swear."

"I should go with you."

Marshal shook his head. "No. You shouldn't. Maybe tomorrow."

"Why?"

He smiled. "Because all I'd be doing is looking for the best place to pick up where we left off."

I blinked again. Then I smirked as I crossed my arms. He still held my upper arms. "Problem?"

Marshal regarded me with that same--He pulled me closer. "Big problem," and I could feel his lips tickle mine.

My throat tightened, but I was surprisingly able to ask "Being?" with an amount of believability that I cared about the answer.

He lightly caressed my lips "Work." and again "Seifer." and a little firmer.

_Damn you, Seifer._ I accepted the kiss, returning it with more pressure and persuasion and then pulling away and then returning, torn between work and my mission and what felt _so damn good_.

...a fountain near an unlit room within the ruins of a king's Tomb. A young woman and a young man sit side-by-side, dangling their feet into the cool water while smiling and laughing as they splash each other. Hands held and safety shared along with the stories of each of their pasts.

The young man has silver eyes and spiked black hair. The young woman has bright eyes despite the horror of her young life and brunette hair with streaks of gray. When the young man watches her he sees the brightness and not the horror. He sees a possible future and not an ugly past.

"Ana, can I kiss you?"

The young woman flushes and sends him a sidelong glance. "Okay," she whispers. She likes this boy. This young man who makes her feel safe.

He moves a little closer, cautiously leaning toward her as she leans toward him. Trusting. Expecting. Waiting. His lips touch hers, so softly it tickles. The young woman giggles and pulls back, shyly smiling up at the young man.

"Hey. What's the matter?"

I blinked and the vision vanished, but the eyes were the same. The face was the same, albeit a little older.

"Ana?"

I stepped a little back and shook my head as I turned. "Fine." I remembered. The feeling. That first kiss. Walking home hand-in-hand. I started down the ladder. "Fine," I whispered. I liked that boy, and now I found him.
Chapter Fourteen

Ahndra

I stared at the ceiling of our room at the inn and felt an annoying itch in the back of my brain. Something wasn't right. It had only been thirty minutes since Marshal left on his jog, but. I moved my focus to the door of our room. The itch worsened. _Shit._. My instincts screamed that something needed to happen. That something--

My body tensed and I sat up at the sound of keys fumbling at the lock. Marshal hadn't given the signal. I vaulted out of bed, grabbing the handheld as I went. I dived around the door of the bathroom just as the door opened. I pressed myself against the wall to the left of the bathroom door as I accessed the emergency email option.

'Cover blown.'

Then I stuffed the handheld in the back part of the small linen closet. I released a slow breath as I waited, listening to the steps--three pairs, men--and readying myself for the fight. I heard whispers and then steps approaching the bathroom. I balled my hands into fists. A man dressed in black stepped into the doorway. I punched him hard in the face and kicked him against the sink counter, knocking the air out of his lungs. He collapsed onto the floor and I kicked him again, in the head. His body went limp.

I turned, fists and feet ready as the other two men came at me. I blocked and punched; dodged and retaliated with fists in the face and chest, kicking and forcing them back into the main room. But I had to let myself get taken. I couldn't find their location if I didn't. I couldn't get Marshal out.

I pressed my lips together and continued to fight, showing weaknesses that weren't there and allowing fists and feet to make contact--pain in the back of the head, and the world went black.

*

I groaned, pulling myself through the blackness as I tried to move.

"Ahndra! Thank god. . . ."

I forced my eyes open, but the light gave me a sharp pain in my head. When I tried to cover my face with my hands, I couldn't move them from behind me. I again forced my eyes open, blinking away the pain and seeing--I sat up, ignoring the blinding agony in the back of my head. "Marshal!"

He was tied to the far wall of the shed, arms hanging above his head. Blood dripped from his nose and lips, one eye had swelled shut, and the skin on one cheek had been broken to ooze blood. "I'm fine."

I tested the binding at my wrists as I also examined that of my ankles. It would take some work, but I could get out. SeeD were trained to get out of almost everything.

"Are you all right? You've been out cold for an hour."

"Fine."

There sounded voices outside the door of the shed.

"Shit," Marshal hissed. He looked back to me. "Can you get out?"

I only just discovered what knot they'd used. "Wait."

"Shit--shit." Marshal returned his focus to the shed door. "I recognize almost all of them from Katie's attack. There's only three I don't remember seeing before, and two of those are the 'landowners'. Big surprise."

"Questions?" I released a deep breath and relaxed. Then I carefully and slowly tucked my knees to my chin and pulled my hands under my body and in front of me. I started work on the knot on my feet.

"The usual. Who am I. Who am I working for. Blah-blah-blah. Not very imaginative."

I smirked.

"I don't understand why they don't believe me when I say I'm just a photographer. What. Do I have 'spy' written on my forehead?"

I undid the knot and then started work on the strap holding my hands.

"It must be my rugged good looks."

I scoffed.

"Hey. I resent that." Marshal's chains rattled with his slight movement. "Damn it. My arms are going to sleep. I hate it when that happens."

"Wimp."

He chuckled. "Come over here and say that to my face."

I pulled free the final portion of the knot and shook the strap loose as I stood. I hurried over to Marshal while freeing the lock-pick from beside my teeth on the right side of my mouth. I pulled it out and set to work on his hands.

"Wimp," I said again.

Marshal softly laughed while shaking his head. "Sure. Say it when I can't retaliate."

"Later."

"Promises, promises."

My brow furrowed with concentration as I fought with the locking mechanism.

"Damn. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look when you're all intense like that?"

My lips twitched upward--

The shed door creaked open. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

I stealthily slipped the lock-pick into Marshal's care before turning to face the person who entered. The leader entered first, or so I assumed. He was of average height, not much bigger than Marshal, with mid-length caramel hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a type of uniform--black with red trim--with a symbol of a fist on the lower left quadrant. Those men that entered with him--four of them--wore the same uniform but without the red stripe.

Radicals. I hated them.

"Now we can ask you some questions." The leader made a motion with his hand. One of the men hurried forward with a chair, which he set in front of me, and then went to stand beside Marshal. "Sit."

I forced a terrified expression and looked to Marshal. "B-Blake?"

"Ahndra, it's going to be okay. Just do what they say."

The leader adjusted his crossed arms as I 'timidly' made my way to the chair and sat down. I gripped the seat of the chair as I stared at the ground with what I hoped was--

"You fought off three of my men, 'Ahndra'. You can drop the act."

"It's not an act!" Marshal shouted. "She took martial arts for self-defense after--"

The man standing beside Marshal cuffed him hard in the face. "I wasn't talking to you. Keep it shut."

The leader stepped toward me, but I kept my eyes focused on the ground, gauging his threat by the sound of his steps and the way he moved--He wrenched my head up with a fistful of hair. Staring into his black-brown eyes was like staring into those of my father.

I heard the rattle of Marshal's chains. "Don't you touch her!"

The leader regarded my face and my eye with calculating intensity. "Hm." Then he roughly pushed my head down and stepped toward Marshal. "So, you're just a simple photographer who brought his girlfriend for a little sex and a little house-hunting?"

Marshal released a deep breath. "As I've said before, my boss--"

I heard the impact as the leader hit Marshal across the face with the back of his hand. I clenched my jaw and tightened my hold on the chair seat. Then the leader's steps again approached my chair.

"I'd rethink my story, mister, or else your freaky little sex toy's liable to get played with."

Tense silence. "Please," Marshal said in a firmly controlled tone. "Let her go. I'm telling you th--"

"The truth. That's what they all say." The leader came around to the front of my chair and reached out to lift my gaze. He pushed my hair from my eye. "It looks like you've been roughed up before. Then this won't be so scary, will it?"

I just stared mutely up at the man, much as I had learned to do with my father. Fear made these kind of men drunk with power. Tears enraged them. No emotion made them uncertain and robbed them of that which they wanted: a reaction of submission.

The leader smirked and roughly released me. "Just like I thought. This ought to be fun." He snapped his fingers. The remaining three men immediately stepped forward to pull me from the chair. I heard Marshal's chains rattle yet again, but I was strangely calm and distant from what I knew would happen. Of course, it happened before. I knew how to shut it off.

"Unless of course you've got something to say?" the leader asked.

I met Marshal's eyes and sent him a meaningful look. He clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists. He focused again on the leader. "I've told you all I can. I'm a photographer taking pictures for--"

The leader made a motion with his hand and the man standing beside Marshal hit him hard. Marshal spat blood and sent the man a murderous glare.

In the center of the room the three men roughly turned me to face the leader. He approached, chuckling as he pulled his shirt from his pants. My insides twisted and cringed back, but I didn't look down from the leader's gaze. I just stared. Dead pan. Not even fighting the men that held me. That would have fed the lust.

"Wait." The leader regarded me with crossed arms. "Wait. We should do this right." He motioned to the far wall. "Hold her up against the wall."

They dragged me back and slammed me hard against the wall. I coughed and forced in a breath as the leader chuckled. But all I saw was the pain and misery in Marshal's expression. It hurt to see it.

The leader motioned toward me. "Now rip part of her shirt." There was the sound of tearing material and buttons popping free. I didn't look away. "Hm. Something's not--that's right." The leader stepped up to me and hit me hard across the face. Lights and spots sparked in my brain and I forced my head up, tasting and feeling the blood drip down my chin. I heard Marshal swear and fight against his chains.

The leader backed off with a nod of approval. He turned to face Marshal. "This should bring back memories, huh? Only I think that time it was your little sister." The leader stepped closer to Marshal and grabbed his shirt-front. "Your name isn't Blake Rankin. You aren't a photographer. Now tell me what I want to know, or--" He made a motion with his free hand and one of the men holding me jerked my pajama bottoms and panties down around my ankles. "Or we have a history lesson."

Marshal didn't look away from my gaze, and I could again feel the caress of his fingers on the bruised skin of my face as a young woman of fourteen. With that same pained expression that pled with me to run away. He clenched his jaw. _Don't tell them anything._ I had survived rapes, beatings, broken bones, and more. I could take this and live. Garden's secrets were mine. I had to protect them. It was all I had left.

"Suit yourself."

The leader turned and approached. I numbed my brain and shut off everything. All I saw was Marshal's face and eyes. All I heard was the rattle of his chains and his voice calling my name...

\--bright light – pain--

I coughed and groaned.

"Ahndra?"

Soft touch on my face, warmth surrounding me. I groaned again, dragging myself through the red pain and the misery.

"Oh Shit. Ana? Ana, can you hear me?"

"Marshal?" My voice sounded ragged. I struggled to open my eyes.

"I'm right here."

My vision slowly cleared, and I focused on his silver-charcoal eyes. "You all right?"

"You're kidding." Marshal smoothed some hair from my face and pressed his lips gently against my forehead. "Can you stand?"

My head throbbed, and the world seemed to spin whenever I even thought of moving. "What. . . what happened?"

"I hoped you could tell me." Marshal carefully adjusted his arms around me.

I tried to force thoughts through the pain. "What?"

"Forget it. I need to get you out of here." He adjusted his hold on me and stood, lifting me into his arms. I groaned, and my eyes rolled back at the pain in my head. "Just rest," he whispered as he stepped cautiously forward. "Try not to think, Ana. Okay? Rest."

I relaxed against him, surrendering to the darkness that freed me from the pain.

...soft touch on my face... "...Marshal...?" warmth enfolding my hand...

"I'm here, Ana." ...kiss on hand... "I'm right here."

...in the blackness....

I groaned and lifted a hand to my face.

"Hey," came a soft voice beside me.

I lowered my hand and looked to my right. _Marshal._ The wound on his cheek had been stitched and bandaged, and his split lip had been treated. I looked around us. We were on a Garden transport ship.

He crouched down and smiled at me. "How you feeling?"

The throbbing had dulled to a minute ache. I rubbed at my forehead. "Better."

Marshal lightly touched the hair from my face. "You had me worried there for a sec. You couldn't stay awake."

I lowered my hand from my head again and met his gaze. "What happened?"

Marshal briefly shook his head. "Not really sure. One second you were there and the next you weren't."

"What?"

He nodded. "You went into some kind of trance I guess, and then vanished. Then some lady with four arms and some nasty-looking swords appeared out of nowhere and started whacking the hell out of everyone. Except me, thank Hyne."

" **What?** "

He nodded again. "I know, but that's what happened." Marshal regarded me a moment. "Junctioning wasn't allowed on this mission, but that's what it looked like. A summon."

"Impossible."

"Tell that to the dead men we left behind." I tried to push myself up into a sitting position, but Marshal held me back. "Now hold on. You still look pale." I relaxed back into the cushions with a quick exhalation. He sat beside me. "You know, if that **was** a summon, that might explain some things about your memory."

I stared at the wall opposite.

"I mean, Garden's kind of stepped away from the whole junctioning thing, except for in extreme circumstances, because of the whole 'you lose your memory when you junction'." He regarded me. "You didn't know about this one, did you?"

I slightly shook my head.

"Hm. I wonder if it's another GF like Odin or Gilgamesh, as in they show up whenever they damn-well please. Of course, that wouldn't explain why you've been having problems remembering things. It's no wonder you remember Seifer. I mean, you see the guy every day at work. And your dad? How can you forget the bastard with what he did to you? But me? You haven't seen me for years, so it's no wonder those memories got pushed away. The lady needed room to move."

"What was her name?" I asked softly.

"Let's see. I looked up her image in the database. What was it? Asura. Yeah. That's it."

I closed my eyes and covered my face with my hands. Asura. Queen of the summon gods. Goddess of war. Where had I picked up the GF? And why didn't I remember?

"Ana. Ana." Marshal took gentle hold of my hands and pulled them from my face. "Hey. It's okay. This explains a lot. Now we can just work on getting the memories back instead of trying to figure out why you lost them in the first place."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. We were returning to Garden. The mission was finished.

Marshal stood and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. "Sleep now, chicklit. We can talk more a little later. I'll type up the report."

I stared at the ceiling above me and then slowly closed my eyes. _'...we...'_

*

Marshal handed me my duffel and then came the rest of the way off the ship. We headed toward the road leading into Balamb. I stared at the cobbled ground. There were so many things that had changed, and I didn't know if I could hold on to them. But to go back to 'Fujin'? A product of my father? I felt the tingle of Marshal's sidelong glances. "What."

"Did you want to go out to dinner after the debrief?"

_Yes._ "No."

"Oh." Marshal stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets.

_I'm sorry. I need time._ I didn't know who I was anymore. Two very different people had gone head-to-head, but who had won?

Marshal continued to watch my profile, but he didn't ask anything. I wouldn't have had an answer anyway. I didn't know. Anything.

We rented the SeeD car and piled our stuff into the back seat. Then we silently drove to Garden. Seifer would want a report, both verbal and written. How would I give it? I moved my gaze out the window.

Too soon we pulled into the parking lot of Garden and gathered our stuff. Marshal wordlessly handed me my eye-patch. I mutely stared down at it--I fisted my hand on my duffel before setting it down and taking the eye-patch to slip it on. I felt caged. Restricted. I felt like I hid. I pushed the impression away and again lifted my duffel. We headed down the corridor to the main part of Garden. The closer we got to the security section, the deeper my confusion went. Marshal's sidelong glances didn't help.

We stepped into the elevator and rode it down. Still silent. Moments before the door opened to allow us entry, Marshal turned to me and said "Ahndra, I'm glad I had a chance to be with you again. I missed you."

I faced him, but it was too late. The elevator stopped and the doors opened to the bustle of the security office. Marshal smiled and then stepped off, giving Sally Regal a wave as he passed to Seifer's office to report. I stared after him only a moment before stepping off and proceeding to my own office.

Once I shut my door, I leaned against it with closed eyes and a whispered name.

*

My door opened, and I looked up from my blank glare of my deskpad. Seifer made a motion with his head while firmly stating "Fujin. Office. Now," before disappearing around the corner.

_Fujin._ I slowly stood and unclenched my fisted hands. I stepped forward, and my stomach plummeted the same time the elevator carried Marshal to the main floor. I pressed my lips together and pushed it away as I strode toward Seifer's office.

"Door."

I closed the door behind me and stood at attention as Seifer adjusted his position against his desk. He regarded me a moment before straightening to step toward me. He set his stance and crossed his arms.

"Anything to add to Marshal's report, Fujin?"

And Seifer's smirk reminded me--I clocked Seifer as hard as I could, relishing the slip of skin as it broke under the force. "Bastard!"

Seifer slowly rotated his jaw as he again met my gaze. "And what the hell was that for?"

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him nose-to-nose with me, my eye sparking. "You knew. You **knew** who Marshal was and **didn't tell me**!"

Seifer's green eyes registered a moment of surprise. Then the smirk returned. "I told you I was gonna push."

I scoffed and pushed him roughly away. "No secrets," I warned. " **Ever again**."

"Whatever you say, Fujin."

I scoffed again as I turned on my heel. "It's **Ahndra**." He chuckled as I wrenched open the door. I stepped out. "Ass!"

Seifer laughed.

*

knock-knock

I looked up from the collection of reports on my desk. Sally stood uncertain and apologetic in the doorway of my office holding a large soft package. I set down the report and motioned her in, remembering again the information Marshal gave about Sally's brush with death. Sally never brought it up. Never used it to gain respect or sympathy. Never. I motioned to the chair across from my desk, but she shook her head with a softly spoken "That's okay. I just needed to deliver this" and presented me the package.

I stared down at the address. _Marshal._ I vaguely heard Sally leave as I slowly opened the package. What fell out onto my desk were a collection of letters and a card. My throat tightened. I slowly reached out to pick up the card. Two pictures were affixed inside, one beneath the other. The first was the disastrous happening at the picnic when Marshal tripped over the camera. I smirked, remembering again the laughter and his ridiculous position. The ambrosia salad all over his face.

I gently touched the picture as I flipped it up to reveal the other. My eyes burned. The two of us within the cave. His hands on my shoulders; one of mine covering his. Even then I had felt the difference in the touch. Yes, it had been hard to accept, but it had been safe. I absently rubbed my fingers together. I could still feel that warmth. Even after almost two weeks.

I cleared my throat and looked to the right side of the card. _'Here's to happy memories'_ had been inscribed there. My face relaxed into a smile.

The sound of my door clicking shut drew my attention--My smile vanished and I blinked.

Marshal stood there in black jeans and a gray t-shirt. "Hey, chicklit," he greeted softly.

"Marshal," I returned, and the calmness of my voice surprised me. Especially considering the memories that burned my brain. Those blessed memories that saved me from a nightmare.

He stepped forward and sat in one of the chairs opposite my desk.

My fingers tightened on the card as I held that silver gaze. I still didn't know what to do. It seemed so long since I was the young woman who fancied herself in love with this young man.

"You're really pretty when you smile."

A memory rose from the rest. A young man with a tickle for a kiss who made me laugh. Who made me feel safe. Who said _'You're really pretty when you smile'_ and made me believe it.

Marshal held my gaze as he rubbed his hands together. "Ahndra, can we keep going from here?"

I swallowed hard. Having him there in my office. . . seeing him again after two weeks of. . . . "What?"

"I liked what we had. As kids. Then on this mission." Marshal stood and moved to crouch beside me. "Ana, I don't want to lose you again. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

I stared down at him, remembering so many things. Feeling more. "For weeks and months I. . . ."

Marshal slightly nodded as he lowered his gaze.

"That's why I enrolled," I pressed, and the vague sound of desperation drew his gaze back. "I thought I--I thought you. . . ." My voice choked off and I lowered my gaze.

He altered his position and drew me tight against him. "I didn't know," he said gruffly. "I'd have come if I'd known. I swear."

I wrapped my arms around Marshal's neck as I pressed my body against his warmth. He pulled gently back, brushing the hair from my face to tenderly remove the eye patch.

Then he pressed his lips against the scarring. "I'm **so** sorry, Ana." He kissed my scarred eye again and then drew back. I met his gaze. "You just tell me what you need. I'll do it. I swear."

I looked into those silver-charcoal eyes and got lost in the memories of a fourteen-year-old in love. "Don't leave me alone."

Marshal drew me tight against him, kissing my eye and my cheek. His heartbeat. His breath. His warmth so close and burning through me. Then he was caressing my cheek with his lips before placing a tender yet intense one on my mouth. My entire body shivered with the touch as my hands stroked the thick softness of his hair. and then he was whispering my name against my mouth.

I was a woman of few words, and Marshal knew them all.
Chapter Fifteen

Missed

"Hey chicklit."

I looked up from an examination of my hands and allowed a slight smile as Marshal approached wearing faded denim jeans and a t-shirt with the Galbadia Garden logo. "Marshal."

He came to stand across from me, smiling. "You ready?"

I stood from the bench in the main corridor of Balamb Garden and gave a nod.

He offered a hand and I took it. "You know what you want?" he asked as we stepped toward the front gate.

We were shopping for the dress I would wear to Sally Regal's 20th birthday party. "No. I don't wear dresses."

"I know," he said, smiling, " **that's** the only reason I'm going." He chuckled. "I still don't understand why you didn't just ask Sally to go with you. I thought you squared things."

"I make Sally uncomfortable."

I had made Sally fearful or uncomfortable from the day I joined Garden's ranks. It had become a game for me to push the right buttons to make it worse. Only, after the tearful exchange in Seifer's office of Sally saying she didn't think I respected her, I had seen how twisted the game had become.

"I know you do, chicklit, but I still think she'd have loved to go. The girl gives everyone a third and fourth chance. Don't know why, especially with pricks like Seifer and me."

"You aren't a prick." I smirked. "An ass? Maybe."

Marshal laughed. I sent him a sidelong glance. He met it. "What?"

"Why did she invite me?"

"Because I begged her to. I want to see you in a dress."

"Marshal."

He gave my hand a brief squeeze. "Okay, okay." He smiled over at me. "She invited you because she wants you to go. Why's that so hard to believe? She respects you, Ahndra."

"Why?" I motioned to him before he could speak. "You understand me, Marshal. When I see a weakness, I play on that. I made her terrified of me."

He slightly nodded. "I know, but you never once talked down to her. You let her do her job and pushed her to do more than what she probably would have done on her own. Hell. You and Dincht and Seifer all push her to move outside that damn shell of hers. It's been good for her, too."

I changed my focus to the dark brown car parked outside the gate.

"You're good at your job, Ahndra, like I've said before. Sally's got every reason to respect you. More now that you've pulled your head out of your ass and told her you respect her."

I frowned and punched his arm. "Don't be an ass."

Marshal chuckled while rubbing at the offended arm. "Can't help it." He opened the door for me. "Don't worry about Sally, chicklit," he said as I climbed in. "I'm sure she's used to being the butt of people's jokes. I mean, have you met her older brother? I bet Zack gives her nothing but grief. Besides, if you really hurt her feelings I think she would have said something before now. Or Dincht would've. Dude. Dincht likely would've taken your ass on."

I scoffed and pulled the door closed.

Marshal laughed and went around to enter on his side. "You know he would. He wouldn't have given a damn if he had a chance in hell of winning. He's in love, and that's what guys do." He leaned over and kissed my cheek. I faced him. "I would've taken on Seifer for you."

I smirked. "Not very bright."

Marshal's lips twitched. He kissed me briefly on the lips. "Yeah, well, I never said I was."

He put the car in gear and pulled away from the gate. I watched him with a slight smile. Then I focused out the window as I rested my hand on his thigh.

*

"What about this one?"

I looked up from the brown velvet of a shapeless dress hanging on a rack. Marshal held a silver gown up to the light. I blinked. "I can't wear that."

He looked over at me. "Huh? Why not? It'll match your hair and eyes." He pushed it toward me. "Here. Try it."

I took it from him and examined the making of it. "How? There's no sleeves."

I noticed Marshal's lips twitch. "It's not **supposed** to have sleeves."

I arched an eyebrow and looked down at the dress again. I turned it this way and that. "How does it stay up?"

Marshal chuckled and then took the dress and a gentle grip on my arm as he led me toward a portion of the store that said 'Fitting Rooms'. The sales lady unlocked it and then he ushered me inside and closed the door behind him. He hung the dress up and carefully took it down from the hanger--it hung only by two very thin pieces of ribbon affixed within the bodice.

He unzipped it and then gathered the material of the skirt. "Arms up."

I regarded him with a continued arch of my eyebrow. "With my clothes on?"

Marshal chuckled again. "I wish, but just humor me. I'd rather not get a fist in the mouth."

So I lifted my arms over my head. He directed the dress down over me, freeing catches here and there when the skirt gathered on my shirt or pants. Then he drew the front of it down, turned me around, and zipped the dress up in the back. I blinked at the image in the mirror.

He put his cheek beside mine and smiled at my reflection in the mirror. " **That** is what keeps it up."

I flushed and slightly smiled as I looked away.

Marshal stepped to the door and opened it. "Miss, we'll take this one in a size six."

*

"Shoes?"

Marshal looked up from a pair of silver heels. "Sure. You can't wear your boots with a dress like that." We had already stowed the gown in the back of the car. He held up the silver heels with a smile. "How about these?"

I arched an eyebrow. "You're kidding."

"What's wrong with them?"

I took one from him and motioned to the heel. "Three inch heels? How can I walk in that without toppling over forwards?"

Marshal laughed. "Okay, okay." He put them away and then reached up for another pair of shoes. "What about these?"

"They look like something I would wear to bed."

Marshal smirked. "They're called ballet slippers." He motioned to the bench behind me. "Here. Let's try them on."

I sat and unlaced my right boot to pull it off and set it aside. Marshal slipped the contraption onto my foot and then took both my hands in his.

"Come on. Stand up. See how it feels."

I stood--I blinked down at my foot in surprise. I looked at Marshal. "It doesn't feel like I have anything on."

He smiled and gave my hands a squeeze. Then he focused on the sales clerk. "Sir, we'll take these."

*

"What? Why?"

Marshal accepted the earrings from the salesman and faced me. "Ahndra, you can't wear a hot dress like the one you got without getting earrings." He offered forward a pair that looked to be nothing but twinkles falling from an initial stud. "Come on. These will go with the necklace I got you. Try them on."

"I don't have pierced ears," I protested, taking a step back.

"I know that. These aren't pierced. See? You screw this down in the back until they don't fall off." He gestured me forward. "Come on, Ahndra. It'll be fun. Relax."

I took in a deep breath and released it slowly. Then I stepped forward and accepted Marshal's offer to put the earrings on me. I stared at my reflection in the small mirror and saw the twinkle of the earrings match the glimmer of my eyes. _Mom. . . Mom, I wish you could see me now._

*

"Ooo. I like this one. Here. Try it."

I focused on Marshal as he held out a small bottle of perfume. "Why? If you like it, get it."

Marshal's smile faded. "I--" He set the perfume bottle down and stepped toward me, lowering his voice. "Are you mad at me?"

I blinked at him. "No."

"Then why did you say that?" he asked as he motioned over his shoulder.

I frowned in confusion. "Say what? To get it?"

"That's not exactly what I got from it."

I studied Marshal's face. Then I gestured to the bottles of perfumes and creams and lotions. "I don't understand all these things. I wouldn't know what to get or why to get it." I pointed at the bottle on the counter. "If you like it, shouldn't I get it?"

"You should get it if **you** like it, chicklit."

"But I don't know what I like or don't like."

"Okay." He stepped back to the counter and opened the bottle. "Hold out your forearm."

I did, and he sprayed a small amount on a card presented to him before rubbing that card onto the skin of the inside of my wrist.

He motioned to my nose. "Tell me what you think."

I raised my arm hesitantly to my nose and breathed in slightly--I blinked and looked down at my arm with wide eyes before changing my focus to Marshal. "I like it."

He smiled and turned to the salesman. "We'll take this. Lotion, too. Body spray--Hell. Give us the whole gift box."

I sniffed again and released a slight smile. I looked up at Marshal when he stepped close to me. He lifted my arm to his lips and kissed it twice, holding my gaze. I felt my cheeks flush.

*

"You up for dinner?"

I looked down at my watch. We headed to the car, Marshal's hands filled with two hanging bags of accessories, perfumes, and gods knew what else. "It's late." I met his gaze. "I don't think we have time."

"Damn. Oh well. It's all good." He looked over at me with a slight smile. "This was fun. Haven't done it since Katie dragged my ass here to shop for her prom."

I looked away. "Yes. It was fun." But I wished Marshal could have had his sister back.

He nudged my arm with his shoulder. "Katie would've liked you, chicklit. I'm sorry you never got to meet her."

I took one of the hanging bags from him and enfolded his hand in mine. "I'm sorry you lost her."

Marshal kissed my hand before stroking it with his thumb. "Yeah, well, at least she can rest in peace now."

I smiled slightly, my hand increasing its pressure against his. It felt good to know I'd taken the horror of the revenge from him while giving him what he'd wanted for three years. _Peace._

*

"NO." I stared at myself in the mirror, eyes wide.

"Ahndra, come on," Marshal urged from outside my dorm room. "Everyone's going to be wearing dresses almost exactly like yours."

I tugged up on the bodice, but there was still so much skin showing. And the slit on the side? My stomach slithered to my heels. It was way too high.

"Marshal, I cannot go out in this!"

"Ahndra." He tried the door. It was locked. "Ana, open the door."

"I won't go," I protested. "I feel--naked!"

Marshal released a breath so deep I heard it through the door. "Okay. I guess we won't go then. I'll just tell Sally. . . . I'll just tell her something came up. Why don't you get changed and we'll go to dinner?"

But I remembered all-too-clearly the expression on Sally's face when I said Marshal and I would be coming. I balled my hands into fists and turned to the door to unlock it and step out. He turned from his examination of the far wall. He had dressed in a white tuxedo with a black bow-tie and cummerbund. He had a silver handkerchief in his breast pocket. He looked incredible.

And he smiled at me. "Hey beautiful."

I forced my hands away from my bodice and held his gaze. "I really don't like this."

He took my hands in his and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "I know, chicklit. Just don't think about it."

"Don't think about it?" I lowered my gaze to my chest. "My breasts are practically hanging out!"

Marshal laughed. "No they're not, Ahndra. Calm down." He tucked my arm around his. "Come on. I want to be there before Sally and Zell show up."

*

"Wow. Look at 'em."

Marshal's hand tightened on mine. I smiled and slightly shook my head. We watched Sally and Zell's progression into the birthday party. It was quite a spectacle. Zell didn't have a chance to speak because of Sally's obvious excitement, and it looked as if she spoke in run on sentences with barely a pause between subjects. Zell didn't mind her excitement; in fact, he seemed to feed off of it.

"I never thought Dincht would fall head-over-heels in love, but-- **Damn**. The boy is completely gone." Marshal glanced at me. "You've got the present, right?"

I nodded slightly.

"You sure you want to do this?"

I nodded again. "Yes."

"Okay then." He gave my hand another squeeze and then pushed forward through the crowd, guiding me along behind him. "Hey, Meg!"

Sally looked up, narrowing her eyes as she tried to find Marshal through the sea of faces. Then she squealed his name and looked over at Zell with an excited exclamation of "Marshal's here!"

I smirked.

Zell laughed. "Of course he's here. He's the guy who helped me set all this craziness up!"

"Really?" Sally asked, wide-eyed. She turned and stepped forward to give Marshal a hug once he had finally emerged from the crowd. "Marshal. Thanks so much!"

He pushed back. "Hey now. I'm here with Ahndra, so don't get any ideas."

My smirk twitched as Marshal's hand tightened on mine, his thumb caressing my skin.

Sally giggled and then looked over at me, wide-eyed yet again. "Oh my gosh."

I flushed, especially when Marshal mumbled "Damn straight," under his breath.

Sally stepped over and hugged me. My eyes widened and I released Marshal's hand in surprise, my hands moving to hover a few inches from Sally's back.

"Oh my gosh Ahndra you look gorgeous And I love the way the dress brings out your eyes" and "It's so pretty and soft" and "Wow you look really pretty Marshal's really lucky to be here with you Don't you think so, Zell?"

Marshal and Zell howled with laughter.

Sally pulled back and blinked at them. "What?" she asked innocently.

I had been that innocent once. Naive. Shy, but not really. "Regal." She faced me and smiled. Yes. I had been Sally Regal once, and that was why I had to do what I planned to do. "Calm down," I told her.

Sally giggled and lowered her hands from my arms. "Sorry. I've never had a birthday party before and I'm just really glad everyone could come and it's so pretty--"

"Regal."

Sally halted mid-sentence and flushed. Then she lifted her shoulders with a whispered "Sorry."

One side of my lips twitched, and then I handed forward a small box wrapped with pink paper. Sally took it, eyes wide as she stared down at it. "Happy Birthday," I said.

Zell stepped close and put his arm around Sally's waist. "Sweet," he exclaimed. "They got you a present. Way to go, Dawg." Zell kissed Sally's hair. "Open it up."

Shaky fingers unwrapped the pink paper and then lifted the lid--Sally gasped and very gently lifted the china angel from the box. The china angel my mom had bought me for a childhood birthday I no longer remembered. The china angel my father had broken. I knew it would be safer in Sally's care than mine, remembered for the beauty instead of the crack.

Sally looked up, tears streaming down her face. "Oh my gosh. It's so pretty!" She stepped forward and gave me another hug. This time I lightly rested my hands on her back. "Thank you thank you," she whispered in a choked voice.

Zell gently stroked Sally's back as he whispered "That rocks, guys. Thanks."

*

I took in and released a deep breath of the ocean air as I continued to rest my arms against the railing on the back deck of the hotel. Marshal stood beside me, close enough to keep me warm just by standing there. He took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. I lowered my gaze to his hand holding mine and then softly smiled over at him.

"That was a great thing you did, Ahndra. And you know what? I think you've made a friend for life."

I looked out to the reflection of the moon on the water and released another breath. "Maybe."

Marshal kissed the top of my head, and his hand released mine to embrace my shoulders and caress my upper arm. I closed my eyes at the sudden body shiver and then the continued tingle. I straightened and turned, stepping within his arms to rest my cheek against his chest as my arms wrapped around him.

He placed another kiss on my head. "I've missed you, Ahndra Kelley."

I sighed and tried to pull myself closer, remembering the hands held and the shy kiss and the giggles shared. I liked that boy, and I liked this man. "I've missed you, too, Marshal Beita."

The End
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Other Bookworms & Booya Saga Books:

Bookworms and . . . Booya!\--book 1 of the series

The Reluctant Knight\--the story of Seifer and Janine's unique relationship

InTheory, by J.Seay and Nona Mae King--Quistis's mission to Deling Garden

About the Author | Nona Mae King

Writing has been my passion since I was a child when I began creating skits and songs. My life would be empty without this call. There would be no purpose. No ending to guide my daily struggle. No story toward which to strive. Each day something beckons, and that--I know--is the waiting tale. One last happy ending.

Connect with Me Online:

Twitter: <http://twitter.com/writersprite>

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My site: http://angelbreathbooks.com

