FicWad

The power flickered in the cell, and then went out. It was like the lifting of fog - the magic-negation field was off.

Squall, battered and chained, reached back into his mind and summoned. Quezacotl, come. Destroy. The target was himself, his chains. And, flowing as soon as the thought was formed, the lightning bird came. Junctioned for it, the powerful strikes of lightning were a healing surge of energy that shattered chains and dropped him, gasping, to the floor.

Time. There wasn't any. The summoning should have brought guards, but Squall heard nothing outside their door. Almost nothing. Selphie and Quistis were arguing in the next cell about whether escape was possible: "Look, just freeze the metal and it'll break, we can run for it -" "and get shot in short order. wait and let me see what's out there before you get us killed."

Spells, yes. Ice was quieter, but there wasn't - couldn't be - much time. Better to die in escape than wait for him to return, but better still to get away clean. Keys. The bastard had left them - right in Zell's reach, knowing he couldn't reach that far. "Wait," he snapped through his door, hoping the girls heard him because he damn sure wasn't going to shout, and half-stumbled for the keys. The sound made Zell flinch, and Squall had no time for reassurance. He grabbed the keys and tried them on his door, one by one until the lock clicked open. Thank Hyne he wasn't toying with us - she's making him stupid -

And lethal. He closed his mind on that avenue of thought before he got sick. There was no time. He ran as best he could to the other cell. "Keys. Get her loose, Quistis." She'd done what he had, he knew - junctioned so that summoning on the self would heal. She'd taken Shiva - notrightnow - and when he got the cell open Selphie was free and Quistis, like himself, sported chains dangling from her wrists and ankles - hers cleanly frozen, and his half melted slag.

"How long before they notice us?" Quistis asked as they rushed out.

"Don't know," said Squall, running back to the cell. "We'll go as far as we can."

"Weapons?" asked Selphie hopefully, following. "Zell's the only - oh my god -"

Squall's eyes were almost burning as he carefully picked Zell up. "Not today, he won't be," he growled. "If we find them, great. If not, take what you can from anyone in our way. Make for the roof."

Selphie looked puzzled in the split second it took for Quistis to nod and grab her hand, yanking her into a run. Squall, slower, ran behind. He'd wondered if they might fail. Galbadia didn't like to advertise its prisons - most of the structures were deep underground to hide their size. The way out had to be up. The junctions were a gamble; as long as the power stayed off, they were a tremendous advantage. If the field was restored at any time, it would mean all of them would slip into a half-somnolent, passive state that wouldn't be able to resist recapture. They had to get as far as possible, as fast as possible. Squall's bare feet did not skid on the metal floor grating, but he heard the steps of booted guards rising, coming -

Quistis dropped back alongside him. "You've got to leave him," she said as loudly as she dared. "We've got to be -"

"Everyone or no one," snapped Squall, and handed Zell to her. Then started running again. "Carry him for now. When you're tired, hand him to Selphie. When she's tired, back to me. All of us are getting out."

Her lips tightened but she obeyed, running as well as she could. To refuse the order she'd have had to drop Zell to the floor herself, and as hard as she was she couldn't do that.

Not with the sight of him fresh in her mind. Zell's hands and arms were broken - flattened - up to the elbows, hanging limply. And that was only the start of -/don't think about it/ Squall leaped on a guard, landing squarely on the back of the man's neck, and a mere second to take the man's gun. He ran ahead as Quistis, tired, passed Zell to Selphie. Silence, and speed - his head snapped upward as he heard gunshots from above. And an ally? "We've got to have weapons before we get up there." And guards behind them.

Quistis' eyes were bright, almost glowing, and Squall looked away quickly. Evidently she was near her limit; enraged, Quistis had too many magical tricks up her sleeves.

"Can't..." panted Selphie as they rounded a curve and neared a stairway. "Squall...not up stairs..."

"Mine," said Squall, passing her his purloined weapon and lifting Zell back into his arms. No time for a cure. No time to set the bones and he wasn't about to do a botch job on that. "Cover me," he ordered, and Selphie, gasping still, raised her gun and ran up the stairs. Not firing - they couldn't afford to waste any bullets or draw attention to their location with the sound. Their feet hurt from running bare on the grating, but it was an advantage in disguise - they made no noise on the metal floors, but the boots of the guards rang and echoed down the metal corridors.

Selphie was good; one shot, and when Quistis ran up the stairs Selphie tossed her a gun. Now two were armed. Squall focused away from the weight of Zell in his arms, the flinches and tiny sounds at any jarring movement - and there were many. Part of him filed it all away for later nightmares, but right now there was no time.

"Well say hello to the rescue patrol!" yelled a happy voice, and Squall nearly shouted for silence before he bit his tongue. Irvine! and Rinoa - and not wearing chains or prisoner's clothes, either.

"Not so loud!" he hissed, and quickly handed Zell to Rinoa. "Drop him and you'll regret it." Turning to Irvine, dragging everyone back into the run, he said, "Two guns and Zell's out but we've got the junctions. Tell me whatever you did to the power supply will last."

"At least an hour," Irvine nodded. "Tossed a grenade at it. Oh, and here." He pulled a case from his coat and handed it over. "Spare gunblade, your old model. No idea where the new one'd be."

"Like I care." Squall spared a moment of gratitude for the fact that he had bought a new gunblade before going on the damned assignment. He pulled his Revolver out of its case and swung it - checked the chamber to find himself fully armed. "Great." One more curve, one more stair. "Cover me."

The run blurred after that - Irvine had dragged half the prison's guards after him, it seemed, and Squall found himself cleaving his way through many as shot after shot rang out. He didn't waste his charges, using them only when he had a clean shot at multiple targets lined up to catch the explosions. Kill. Kill as many as possible, increase the chances for the others to get out. It blurred, the spray of blood and the snap of bone and the screams under never ending gunfire. The girls had to have picked up more guns by now.

When he saw the light of day through windows he turned back, carving his way backward until they were all together. Rinoa was clearly exhausted; he had Selphie take Zell back and hand Rinoa her gun, hoping she remembered how to use it. Everyone. Everyone out. He'd have to hope, and that was bitter. "Quistis - summon."

Daylight, but not safety. Rinoa summoned Carbuncle for shielding as Irvine shot rapidfire at guards on the walls. Squall reached out for Quezacotl and felt the storm rip through him as a blast of freezing air came from Quistis; freeze the gates, then smash them.

And free. It was all Squall could do not to fall over just on the other side - pointless, stupid. Everyone out - out - get under cover, Irvine's got a car -

Later, Squall could not believe it had actually worked. A string, a long string, of doing the only thing to be done at the time - and they were out. Alive, free, with Irvine at the wheel and pedal to the metal, screaming across the desert.

Now was the time. Numb, exhausted, Squall motioned Quistis to his side and began setting bones.

"What happened?" Quistis asked - just as numb, just as tired, carefully setting Zell's fingers and casting spells to knit them back together.

Squall opened his mouth. Closed it again. Felt shoulders tightening against rage and guilt and nameless, familiar things. "Seifer," he gritted, and bit back bile as Zell twitched at the name, only semi-aware of his surroundings. Squall bent over his hand, set and healed another finger. Healing Zell alone would wipe them out of magic, but everyone else could walk, at least.

"We've got to take him back to Garden," Quistis said. "This is - it's too much."

"No time," said Squall. "Seifer's gotten talkative. We've got to keep the Gardens from getting leveled first."

Selphie, adrenaline-drunk and exhausted, started giggling. "Seifer.../talkative/..."

"He's still not - a hotel room, then," said Quistis. "Something."

Set. Cast. Set. Cast. Squall spared a spell for the face, bruised and split and bleeding and puffy. "Ask him."

"You've got to be joking," said Quistis, aghast. "He can't move!"

"Working on it," said Squall flatly.

"...Squall..." parched, gasped, it silenced everyone.

"Stay still," Squall replied. "The damage -"

"...True?" Just-healed fingers grasped at thin prison cloth.

Squall felt like he'd been turned to stone. True? Seifer had said many things, some of them true, some not. But that wasn't the reason Squall chose to answer with "You know us, Zell." He nodded sharply at Quistis- keep healing - and, reluctantly, she obeyed. She might disagree with him, but she was too well trained not to obey an order.

You know us. He didn't, really. Zell had no idea how true some of the accusations had been, how close Squall had come, under the fog of the anti-magic field, to crying out /but not like that/. He was glad he hadn't. It was a desire - to hold, protect, love - but it was an old, familiar desire and containable. Squall's hands touched only to set bone, cast spells. Showed nothing of ever having wanted anything else. Nothing else. Seifer had been talkative, but the price of information had been very high indeed.

Take a good look, Squall. Isn't love grand?

Not love. Not. Squall locked it away. Swallowed it down, locked it away. Felt, carefully, for the broken bones, trying not to jar as the jeep raced down the rough desert flats. Set, and heal. Set, and heal.

"Squall...he's mine."

"Yes."

Love was giving what the loved one wanted to receive. Squall held on to that, and set another bone.