All for the Love of Chaos

Chapter 6

"'Nipper?" She asked him quietly, holding out her silver flask to Charlie, who walked beside her in silence. He shook his head. Kay shrugged and took a sip. It burned as it hit the back of her throat but she didn't seem to care. The temperature had just gotten a few degrees warmer. They plodded along though snow drifts in the narrow streets that were lit by a faint yellow glow emitted by lampposts and the windows encased in frosted ice. It reminded Kay of the back allies of Midgar, only there was no fear of getting mugged. It seemed so calm and friendly; the laughter of distant pubs and parties was extremely inviting.

"Something tells me we're going to be stuck in this town for a while..." said Charlie from behind her; she had been too preoccupied to notice that he had fallen out of step with her. She turned to find him standing still with his face turned to the heavens, letting the pedals of snowfall freely on his chiseled features. They were standing in the center of a square by a glorified, antique water pump.

"...Yeah..." she agreed, throwing her head back, gazing with child-like wonder at the thick snow that cascaded out of the darkness. "God only knows how long we'll be here."

Silence. Nothing but snow and dark buildings around them, the single lamp cast odd shadows in the allies between the houses and stores. The mountains were obscured completely. Only snow.

"You don't sound very concerned." Commented Charlie at last, though the flakes muffled his voice.

"Nope."

"Why?"

"There's not much you can do about it, so, no sense worrin' about it, ya know?" He looked at her with eyebrows raised. She continued to gaze upwards, the snow catching in her hair and melting to produce tiny droplets of water on her ash-blond locks, her lips turned upwards in a serene smile. God, she was pretty...

"Aren't you worried about loosing your job?"

She shrugged indifferently. "Shit happens."

"Where will you go?"

"There are plenty of shipping companies. But..." Her face fell slightly, that little line forming between her eyebrows. "Boy, am I going to hear it from Dad..."

"Your father? Why?"

"Oh, well, I kind of gave one of those little speeches about how I wasn't his little girl anymore and how I could take care of myself."

"And was it true?"

"Nope, not one word of it. First night away from home in Midgar, I wanted to go home more then anything. A whole year ago..."

He nodded in understanding. "I was the same way."

She looked to him, meeting his eyes with blunt disbelief. "You? Afraid of a wee trip from home?"

"Yup. I was scared like you wouldn't believe. It took that move to make me realize that I was still a scared little kid...And that was eight years ago."

The thought of the tall, proud Charlie as a gangly teenager with a rash of pimples over his forehead standing at the airport terminal at Midgar, probably dressed in blue jeans and moccasins; looking hopelessly stranded and confused came to mind, making her smile again. The idea was almost absurd.

She looked back skywards. Charlie continued to stare at the beautiful young woman in front of him, her hands in her pockets and hair thrown back. He tried to say something but no words would come out. Damn it, man! Say it! Say it now or you'll never get the chance to again! He sighed. He could have crash-landed the Bucket a dozen times, and it still would have been easier then what he was about to say. Okay, this is it, no time like the present, right?

"Umm, Kay?"

"Hmm?" She asked, not once adverting her gaze from the dark sky.

"Kay I--" He fell silent suddenly.

"What is it, Charlie?"

When she got no reply, she looked back down again to him. He was standing absolutely still, not even breathing. His eyes were slightly glazed and forlorn. His mouth was open slightly, as if he was shocked.

"Charlie?"

He wobbled on his feet; his arms did nothing to balance him. Wordlessly, he fell face forward into the snow with a soft thump.

It was only then that she saw the blood.

From the nape of his neck almost to the small of his back, he had been slashed. Through his coat, through his flesh, through his muscles and tendons, through the very back of the ribcage itself; were four long gouges. And he had not made a sound.

"CHARLIE!" She screamed, breaking the silence, falling to her knees and scrambling to his side, trying to turn him over and support his torso on her knees and between her arms. She was soon sticky with blood; the snow around them stained crimson. "Charlie!" She wailed again, weaker. His amber eyes stared blankly, sightlessly, to the white petals that drifted from the inky darkness above them. He was not moving. He was not breathing. His heart no longer beat. He was dead.

Meanwhile, there was that Something. There was something watching her. She could feel it, just like she could on the plane. Her wrist snapped upwards to allow the nightstick to slip into her hand, pulling itself out to its full length as she notched it on the highest setting. At the same instant she looked upwards, in front of her.

Half in the pool of a street lamp stood a man in a long black trench coat, deathly still, blending in with the shadows so well that it was hard to believe that he was not created of the darkness. He stood absolutely still, long black hair swirling about his smooth tanned face that looked like it had braved more then it's fair share of sunburns. He was exceedingly handsome, but cold and blank as black ice; his eyes were hidden perfectly behind round sunglasses that reflected everything as well as any mirror. In his outstretched hand he carried a powerful Turk-issue handgun.

And it was aimed right between her eyes.

Without thinking she immediately assumed a rather poor battle stance on her knees with one arm around her fallen friend as she gritted her teeth. Another brandished her nightstick; it crackled and hissed with electricity, wisps of blue lightning emanating from its tip. Neither shifted nor said a word, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

The dark man eyed the young woman coolly. Remarkably, there was no fear held in those crisp, penetrating eyes. He only saw raw hatred and the deepest of sorrow, a combination that made her all the more dangerous and unpredictable. There was something quite particular about her, something that he could not exactly place at first. Perhaps it was the sound of her voice, or the icy color of her eyes, the way she scowled, gritted her teeth and glared at him without the slightest sign of fear or hesitation.

It was only then that his eyes strayed to the dog tag that hung from around her neck:

KAYLA C. HIGHWIND

DELTA SQAUD. 2ND

O ROCKET TOWN

C 6459 - 5420

2040

"Highwind?" asked quietly the dark man in a deep and cultured voice, more to himself then the young woman. She visibly flinched, but held her ground. Seeing this, he asked: "Do you know Cid?"

"That's none of your goddamn business!" She hissed.

...Oh...That would make sense, wouldn't it?

This was Cid Highwind's daughter or some one very closely related; there was no mistaking it. The resemblance was uncanny, as well as the attitude. He lowered the .44.

"We must leave this place before it comes back." The dark one stated.

"'It?' What the hell are you talking about? What's going on? What did this?"

"No!" She cried, clutching the body tighter to herself. The head lolled lifelessly to the side.

"I don't know, miss. But it is my belief that whatever did this has targeted this man, or more accurately this corpse--" She flinched but he took no heed. "--and that it will stop at nothing to obtain it. We should leave this place lest we get attacked as well."

Kay said nothing, only shook her head. She rested her forehead against her friend's, windswept ash-blond hair falling like a curtain around them. Her eyes burned but would not tear. Her muscles ached but would not give out. She felt nothing. Her friend had just died, his life fluids staining her clothes, and she felt nothing. Dead and blank. Empty and lifeless as the snow, and just as cold. She was sick with herself.

"Your father would be most displeased if he were to find out that I left you here to die." He said, voice toneless as well as expressionless. "Now, please, come with me back to the hotel."

She looked back at him, her face as emotionless as his own. The look in her eyes bothered him deeply. After the Weapon attacked Junon hundreds of fish had washed up on the shore, killed by the exploded artillery shells fired in the water. Her eyes looked like that.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she whispered, her voice close to a breaking point.

"You have no choice, Miss." He said sternly. There would be no compromises. He'd be damned if he was going to leave Cid's daughter there to die. Besides, if the old pilot were to find out that he was the reason he no longer had a daughter it would probably result in the damage of the gunslinger's reproductive organs.

She stared blankly at him for the longest time, only meeting her refection in his glasses. Her hand passed over the eyelids, shutting them. Slowly, as a mother would soothe an upset baby, she smoothed back his hair and planted a very one-sided kiss on his forehead. Her hand reached into his shirt, withdrawing Charlie's own dog tag and slipping it around her neck to hang beside her own. She stood up, letting the body rest on the ground on the back, arms at his side.

He took her hand, covered with blood and soiled bandages, leading her away from the carnage. She took one last look at the fallen pilot; eyes blank and distant then turned to the dark man beside her. Vincent nodded some of the hair falling into his face. Gently he began to lead her away, gradually picking up the pace as they went along, wanting to lead Kayla as far away from the carnage as possible. He continued to hold Kay's hand as he lead her down side streets and allies.

Go on to Chapter 7