[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Legacy
by scribblemoose

Author's note: Sequels are always tricky, and I think I would have resisted the urge to try and follow up anything as complete as Memories felt when I finished it, had I not felt there really is another story to tell. Then again, this is my favourite sandpit, so I admit I was reluctant to leave it.

I hope you enjoy it. If you haven't read Memories, it would be best to do that first. Partly because I've assumed you have, so there's a good chance Legacy won't make sense otherwise. But also because Legacy is one big spoiler for Memories. However, if anyone really can't face wading through the 37 chapters, or just wants a refresher, e-mail me and I'll send you a summary. The full story is available on my website, or as an R rated version at fanfiction net.

Feedback, as always, is welcome. ^_^

Chapter 1

Irvine woke in a tangle of sleeping bodies, to the distant purr of his phone. He registered the sunlight streaming through the small window, warm and bright enough to tell him it was well past dawn.

He fumbled in the mess of things on the bedside cabinet until his hands curled around his phone, thumbed the accept call button and pressed the sunwarmed chrome to his ear.

"Kinneas," he said, groggily.

"This is your requested alarm call. The time is ten hundred hours. You requested this call today, at oh-two-thirty. Thank you for using Galbadia Garden's personal alarm call service. Have a good day."

"Gngh." He clicked his phone off, and threw it on the bed.

"Fckff," murmured the pile of bedclothes next to him.

He slowly pulled himself to sitting, yawned and stretched, and tried to get his eyes to remember how to focus. A hand emerged and snatched back the covers he'd displaced, accompanied by a loud and disapproving grunt. There was rustling, and he detected movement at the far side of the bed.

"Hey, man. You got to go?"

"Hey," Irvine smiled and reached out a hand to brush the long blonde hair out of Zephyr's eyes, leaning over the grumbling heap between them. "Yeah, I'm gonna be late again. Looks like someone persuaded me to change the alarm call when we got back last night." He prodded the pile of covers with one finger.

"Need sleep," came Duck's muffled voice. "Fuck off back to Balamb at the crack of dawn. See if I care."

"It's a bit late for that," said Irvine, with another yawn. "Dawn's been and gone, sweetheart."

Duck's head emerged, turtle-like, from her quilted shell. "What?"

"It's ten, sugar. Time even you were out of bed."

"Fuck." She pulled herself towards Irvine, and collapsed again, curled up like a cat, her head in his lap. "Tired," she said. "Mouth feels like I've been eating teabags." She looked up at him with one eye, the other squinched shut. "Was I eating teabags?"

Irvine laughed. "No, babe. At least, not that we noticed."

She rubbed her eyes, blinked at him. "So you're going, then?"

"Yep. I have missions today and tomorrow, and then there's meetings. The usual busy life of a Balamb SeeD."

"Can you come back at the weekend?" Zephyr wound his fingers around Irvine's, his other hand stroking through Duck's hair. "You know you're welcome."

"Yeah, I know." Irvine pulled Zephyr's hand to his lips, kissed his knuckles. "I don't think so, though. I promised Zell a card game."

"You could bring him with you," suggested Duck, nuzzling her nose into Irvine's lap in a way that would have been positively dangerous if there hadn't been a thick quilt in the way. As it was Irvine found himself suddenly needing to concentrate very hard in order to answer her suggestion, rather than risking a lecture from Xu for being even later than he already was.

"I could, but he's not allowed to visit here any longer, remember? Ness keeps him on a very short leash these days."

"No fair," Duck pouted. "She's supposed to be my friend. I found him for her, and she won't share. Bitch."

"Poor Duck," said Zephyr, brushing her cheek tenderly with his fingertips. "Looks like you'll have to make do with me."

She sat up, and prodded Zef firmly in the chest. "Will you buy me dinner?"

"Of course," he said.

"And ice cream?"

"You bet."

"Okay, then," she said, happily, throwing her arms around his neck. "You'll do. But you'll come back soon, huh, Shotgun?"

"Without a doubt," Irvine promised, and reached for his clothes.

* * * * * * *

"How long can you stay?"

Quistis propped herself up on one elbow, and reached out to play with his hair, winding the long strands between her fingers. "Three days," she said. "And I only have to work on one of them."

Laguna beamed at the prospect of having Quistis to himself for more than just one night. In the two years they'd been together, he could count on the fingers of one hand how many times that had happened. So rare, these moments with her in his bed, relaxed and happy and not working. He cherished every second.

He cupped her delicate face in one hand, rubbing her jawline gently with his thumb. She smiled, her lips still faintly swollen from kissing, her cheeks still flushed with pleasure. So beautiful. So young, and so beautiful.

"What do you want to do?" he asked. "Name it. We could go somewhere, the mountains, maybe, or the coast. Anything."

"I don't mind. Stay here, if you like. I'm sure we wouldn't get bored." She smiled, flashing her dimples. He loved her dimples.

"If you like," he said, contentedly.

"It would be nice, to make the world go away for a while."

"Why? Is the world being mean?" He was instantly concerned, protective. He knew how hard she worked, and how demanding things could be at Balamb. Quistis was a perfectionist, and sometimes he worried that she pushed herself too hard. Or that other people pushed her too hard.

"Not really." Quistis kissed him on the nose, and snuggled down into the crook of his arm. "Just busy. SeeD exams coming up. More cadets than ever before, and we're having trouble finding enough Guardians to go round. That means more expeditions to the Islands and screening, and," she paused for a long yawn; "and Squall's always in meetings these days, so Xu needs help too. I've been run off my feet."

Laguna hugged her close, and nuzzled the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, camomile and thyme.

"What about you?" she asked. "How's things here in Esthar?"

"Oh, same as usual. Odine's been to see me six times this week to try and get more money for research into fuck knows what. The Guild of Engineers want more money to develop some new kind of spacecraft. And the army wants more money to repel the hordes of foreigners that might be approaching Esthar's borders any day now. Not that they ever have, you understand."

Quistis smiled, one arm stretching across his smooth chest, under the single sheet. "And how much money does Esthar have available to spend, exactly?"

"None," said Laguna contentedly. "Which suits me fine, because otherwise I might have to make some actual decisions."

"I wish Squall could be as laid back," she said wistfully. "He and Martine are still squabbling about the refit of Galbadia's training centre."

"See. With money comes squabbling."

"Hey, we work hard for our budget, you know. Not like you Presidential types, raise a few taxes and whoosh, there you go, new spacecraft. Ours comes from blood, sweat and... well, blood and sweat. And kind donations from world leaders, of course." She kissed the nearest bit of bare flesh, which happened to be his nipple. He shivered, ticklish as ever.

"It's a small price to pay," he said. "Kind of like an insurance policy against future evil sorceresses. I give Squall money, he takes care of it, I don't have to give a fuck. Suits me."

"You'd better not let Squall hear you sounding that smug. He might want to change places."

"He gets his own perks," said Laguna placidly. "He doesn't have to deal with Odine, for one thing."

"Hm. That's true." She started to trace one fingertip around his ticklish nipple, smiling to herself as his skin twitched under her touch.

"And he gets to see you every day."

She looked up at him, about to say something self deprecating, to deny that she was in any way as beautiful, intelligent or kind as he knew she was. He stopped her with a finger to her lips. "I miss you," he said, simply.

She kissed his finger, rubbed her cheek against his hand like a cat. She looked so soft and vulnerable like this, blue eyes shining at him from a delicate face framed with soft, golden hair. "I miss you, too," she said. "But you know I couldn't leave Balamb. I don't want to leave Balamb."

Laguna sighed. "So you see, Squall really has nothing to complain about." He threaded his fingers in her hair, turned onto his side to kiss her.

She pressed her body up to his, soft and willing, her fingers pressing into his shoulders, one hand sliding down his back to settle at the base of his spine, teasing the tiny fluffy hairs there, almost but not quite tickling.

"When do you have to go to work?" he whispered.

"Not 'til tomorrow," she whispered back, chasing his lower lip with her sharp little teeth.

"Really?" His breath coming short, eyes fluttering shut under her kiss.

"Really."

"And what do you want to do again?"

The corner of her mouth curled into one of the most seductive smiles he'd ever seen.

"Why don't I show you?" she said.

Laguna grinned foolishly as she climbed on top of him, long blonde hair pooling on his chest. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?" he said. "I'm going to wake up any minute, and you'll be back in Balamb, and I'll be..."

"Shhh..." she kissed him quiet. "If it's a dream, don't jinx it."

Whatever it was, it was wonderful, thought Laguna, as he cherished the soft warmth of her body moving with his. It was beautiful, he thought, as he let the silk of her hair run through his fingers. It was just theirs, a precious secret.

And if it was a dream, he never wanted to wake.

* * * * * * *

"I'm whooped. Let's chill for a minute."

Without waiting for an answer, Selphie plonked herself down on a nearby rock, and took off one boot to investigate a blistered heel.

Zell sat down next to her with a shrug, dangling his arms over his bare knees, breathing hard from the effort of their last battle.

"Cactaur spike?" he queried, nodding towards Selphie's injured foot.

"New boots," she said, wincing as she prodded the blister. "Damn. Should've worn thicker socks."

"Oh. I could lend you some. I've got a spare pair back in the car. Ness says..."

"Nah, thanks, too late now. Anyway, don't tell, but..." She pulled a small vial of elixir out of her pack. "It's kind of a battle wound, don't you think?" She winked, and pulled the stopper out.

"Oh, absolutely, field injury," grinned Zell.

Selphie shivered as the multicoloured liquid fizzed on her skin and watched the blister slowly diminish, until it had gone altogether.

"Fuck, that's better," she sighed, wiggling her toes contentedly.

"Ready to go then?" Zell was already itching to move: he hated sitting still at the best of times, and his body was still buzzing with adrenaline from the last battle.

"Just another minute," said Selphie, sliding the tie from her ponytail and shaking out her sleek chestnut hair. "Damn, but the dust round here gets everywhere. And... ugh. Spikes." She started to comb her hair through with her fingers, and a rain of tiny green cactaur spikes fell to the ground.

"Yeah." Zell fingered his own hair, caught in a tiny tail at the nape of his neck. "Used to really stick in the hair gel, back in the old days."

"Gods, yeah." Selphie grinned. "It seems so long ago," she added, wistfully, her smile slowly fading. "So long ago."

"Hm. You think we'll get it today?" Zell anxiously scanned the horizon for any sign of the Guardian they'd come to find.

"Should do." Selphie took a long drink of water from the canteen slung on the belt at her waist. "Surprised it hasn't already shown itself. They're not usually shy."

"It's been the same all over." Zell got to his feet, bouncing lightly on his heels as he looked around them.

"Maybe we've captured all the in-your-face Guardians, and there's only the shy ones left," said Selphie.

"Could be. You're sure it really was something as big as Cactaur you saw from the Ragnarok?"

"Oh yes. Just as big as the old one." Her voice was quiet, laced with melancholy. He watched her carefully. Of course, it was hard to cope with the loss of a Guardian, even though it was a long time ago, and Cactaur wasn't a particularly friendly Guardian. But even so...

"Are you okay, Selph?"

She turned and smiled brightly at him. "'Course. Let's get back to work, eh?" She tied her hair back, a determined little expression on her face. "Let's bag us a prickly varmint, Zelly-boy."

Zell tried not to bristle at one of his most-hated nicknames. At least they were moving again.

They'd not walked more than a couple of hundred yards before he felt Bahamut stirring in his mind, a warning.

It was almost too late, even then. The thing literally came out of nowhere, shimmering into existence before their eyes, six foot tall and three times as wide, dark green with an odd pink and white flower atop its waxy body. Beady black eyes opened just under the flower, and a maw gaped under that, revealing a mouth like a slashed watermelon, fleshy red and green.

"What the-" Zell heard himself say, but it was already a moot point. Whatever it was, it was extending a smooth green stump of a limb towards them at huge speed.

Zell was good at speed, though. He rolled neatly out of the way, springing back to his feet in time to land a solid blow to the creature's body. He felt the tingle of magic of Selphie's casting behind him, and waited, on the defensive until they knew what they were dealing with.

~Scan.~

"This is it, Zell. Guardian, Peyote, mean bastard, real tough, hates elemental magic, especially cold, absorbs sleep... something else there, don't know what..."

Zell wished he'd ever been compatible enough with Shiva to have her with him, in all her icy beauty, but that was just wishing. Of course, Squall and Shiva would do just fine. He dodged another random limb that flailed towards him, too slow for him, and then just as he got ready to strike he found himself flat on his back, a fierce spike of pain shooting up his spine to explode in his head.

"Fuck!" he yelled. "What was that?"

"Another arm... or leg. Came out of nowhere," Selphie yelled back over the resounding crack of her nunchaka on smooth green flesh. "Shit, but it's fast."

Zell bounced back to his feet, ignoring the pain for now.

"Puny humans, with your soggy bodies and rigid minds! Die, puny humans!"

Yeah, whatever, thought Zell, although truth be told he wasn't as confident as he'd have liked to be. The sheer size of the thing was damn intimidating. He gave Bahamut a mental nod and started to gather magic for a blizzaga spell. Selphie was whirling her nunchaka like batons, building up speed for her latest trick, a particularly deadly flick of wood and chain that could fell a behemel in a single blow.

~Blizzaga~

The creature screamed in pain as ice formed about it, cracking it's skin in several places, exposing tender-looking flesh, oozing sap. It really didn't like the cold, then, realised Zell, with not inconsiderable relief.

"Ice magic, Selph," he said. "Easy as pie."

"WOOHOO!" she whooped, and he felt the magic surge.

It got in another double attack, fast as before, but Zell thought not quite as hard. They worked away steadily, dodging the limbs that came from nowhere, eating away at its energy with ice magic, until Zell's fingers were numb with cold, even in the fierce desert sun.

They were getting close, Zell could feel it, but there was something wrong. It couldn't be this easy, not for a Guardian. Even though it was healing itself from time to time, the wounds weren't disappearing altogether, they were really hurting it. There had to be some trick it was holding back, some skill it hadn't used, Selphie said there was something else... Guardians that susceptible to elemental magic just wouldn't survive, otherwise.

He paused in his thoughts long enough to spin from another attack.

Status magic: maybe darkness, or silence, or...

His keen, well trained eyes picked up the tiniest movement in the flower on top of the creature's head. It was sucking it's body in, drawing back the bloom, as if to...

"Selph! Down!" He launched himself on Selphie, tumbling her to the ground with full force and rolling her out of the way as a stream of vile liquid squirted from the centre of the flower, splashing harmlessly into the sand where Selphie had just been standing.

"Poison," gasped Selphie. "Poison, right?"

"Yep," said Zell, already back on his feet and pulling his energy together for the next spell. "Get some antidote ready, just in case. And watch out."

~Blizzaga~

It had cost the creature dearly to use its secret weapon, Zell noticed. It looked smaller, deflated. If he could tempt it to do it again, stop it from healing itself, goad it into attacking...

"Come on, you bastard!" He yelled. "That all you got?"

"Puny human! I will trap you in dreams you can hardly conceive! Die, puny human!"

Another squirt, which Zell once again managed to roll clear of.

This was getting to be fun.

"You can't... squirt me!" Zell yelled. Damn. He needed to practice his taunting.

"Stupid fucking pile of plant flesh!" Selphie joined in, with a little more flair. "Go on, give it up. You know we've won!"

She jumped neatly out of the way of a stream of foetid liquid, grim satisfaction on her pretty face.

"We will make you ours!" Zell shouted, going straight for the melodramatic. But the cocky grin was wiped off his face by the vision of a torrent of green slime, spouting like a geyser from the top of the creature's head, smelling worse than grat and flowing fast as an avalanche. He moved a little too late, catching a splash on his foot that ate through leather so fast he only just got it off in time. If it had got on his skin... But it looked like the creature's final blow. It had shrunk again, down to about half it's original size, wrinkling like a dying fungar. Zell tried to drag himself back to his feet, only to collapse back on the sand with a squeal of pain.

"You okay?" came Selphie's anxious voice. He felt her gathering magic for what he fervently hoped would be the last few blows.

"Just twisted my ankle. It's ready, Selph. You draw, I need a cure."

"No, you draw, I'll cure you."

"What? No, Selph, you've got a much better chance, I'm injured! For fuck's sake, I can't even stand, it won't go for..." Zell yelped at the sight of another stream of poison, and again at the pain that shot through him as he rolled, with nothing of his usual grace, landing awkwardly on his injured ankle. "Fuck, it, Selph," he protested, as he realised she was casting a cure, stubbornly refusing to take the Guardian.

Zell outstretched one hand, and tried to look as impressive as he could, with one leg out of action. What had Selphie said the damn thing was called? Oh yeah. Peyote. That was it.

"Come to me, Peyote. Join our cause."

"Puny human! You lie in pain and yet ask this of me?"

Damn. Fuck Selphie and her stubbornness. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"We have near-defeated you, Peyote. Join us!"

"Puny human with your tiny mind!"

Zell glared at it, and his temper broke. He pulled himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Don't underestimate me, you big fucking green pumpkin. I killed Ultimecia, you know. I've killed bigger, stronger critters than you! Be with us or DIE!!!"

He started to gather magic for another blizaga spell, not caring at that moment what Squall would say when he tried to explain how he'd killed a precious Guardian in a fit of pique.

Fortunately, he'd never have to find out. Peyote's form flickered and phased out, shimmering at its full size for an instant before it disappeared.

There was a moment of calm, a faint and improbable breeze drifting over the desert.

~Fighter. I am Peyote. I am yours.~

Zell breathed a sigh of relief, and fell on his back in the sand as Selphie's healing spell washed over him.

~Peyote. Welcome.~

He resisted the temptation to junction and find out what his new Guardian could do, reminding himself of the regulations, and of the zeal with which Xu ensured they were carried out.

"There," said Selphie, brightly. "All alright?"

"Yes, but-" Zell propped himself up on an elbow, ready to expend the last of his temper chewing Selphie out for ducking out on him like that. But she was smiling at him, humming to herself and brushing her hair, getting ready to leave. He just couldn't bring himself to say anything, somehow. Besides, the longer they stayed here arguing, the longer it would be before they got back, and he'd promised Ness he'd take her to dinner.

"Let's get home," he said, gruffly. "Get Peyote back for the once over."

"Okay!" bounced Selphie, and led the way back to the Ragnarok.

* * * * * * *

Rinoa kicked gently at the waves, enjoying the tickle of the surf over her feet, damp sand squishing between her toes, and the clasp of Squall's hand in hers.

It was getting to be a habit, joining Squall on beach patrol, and one she was happy to foster. It was hard to find time when they were both off duty, and although normally her rule to keep her professional and personal lives separate would have stopped her seeking him out when he was working, it was easy to make this weekly exception. After all, if she happened to be on the beach on her afternoon off, and he happened to be walking from one end to the other, stopping just three times to talk to the patrol teams, well, that was practically co-incidence. Even if it had happened six times in a row now...

"You okay, Rin? You're very quiet."

She flashed him a startled grin. She must have been quiet if Squall, of all people, felt it was worth commenting on.

"I was just thinking this is naughty," she said. "You're supposed to be working."

Squall shrugged. It never seemed to bother him, being her commander and her lover all at once. It might have been harder if she'd come under his direct command, but mostly she worked for Corben or Xian. Maybe that made the difference.

"You're not stopping me," he said softly, squeezing her hand. "You worry too much."

He was probably right. But she'd always been determined to avoid receiving special treatment over the other SeeDs, whether as Squall's lover or as a sorceress, and usually managed to resist temptation. He was right, though, she did have a tendency to worry these days.

"I don't want to go back to Deling," she confessed.

"It's only for two days," said Squall. They stopped walking, and he reached an arm around her waist, pulling her close. To her surprise, she let him. A breeze flowed from the sea, ruffling his hair back from his face. She couldn't resist raising a hand to touch his perfect cheekbones, stroke down his cheek, brush over his lower lip as he kissed her fingertips.

"I just don't want to have The Conversation with my father. Not again."

"The 'why don't you give up SeeD and get a proper job' conversation, or the 'why don't you give up on that loser Leonhart and get yourself a decent boyfriend' conversation?" There was more humour than bitterness in Squall's voice, but the bitterness was undeniably there, and Rinoa felt a little wrench inside. As much as her father annoyed her, he was her father, and she hated that he and Squall didn't get on.

"I think it'll mostly be the job, this time," she said. "There's a vacancy on his board of advisers, and I think he wanted me to apply."

"Oh." Squall frowned, crinkling the faded scar between his brows. "And you didn't?"

She found herself laughing at him; only Squall would even imagine she might conceive of doing such a thing. One thing about the Commander of Balamb Garden: no-one could accuse him of taking anything for granted.

"No," she said, with a reassuring touch to his cheek. "There's no way I want to go into politics. I'd miss killing things far too much."

"Politicians kill things too," said Squall. "They just get someone else to do the actual slaughtering part. Someone like me, or your father."

"Does it bother you?"

"What, killing things?"

"No, silly," although now she came to think of it, she'd never really thought about that. She'd assumed it did bother him, some, that it bothered all of them at least a bit. "The killing to order thing."

"Well, I don't kill to order," said Squall. "We only take the missions we think are right. You know that. Not like..."

He stopped himself and shrugged, turned to walk up the beach towards the waiting patrol group.

She knew what he'd been about to say.

Not like your father.

Part of her wanted to chase after him and make him say it, to point out that she didn't like the army either, to remind him that she'd been in charge of a resistance movement at the tender age of 17, however inept she may have been at it. But something in his eyes as he turned away had stopped her. A person didn't get to share Squall Leonhart's life for two years without knowing when to back off, and this was one of those times.

So she sat down at the edge of the ocean and watched as he spoke with Nida and the others, just by the cave entrance at the very end of the beach, the one that was sealed with concrete and magic and steel. The runes glowed blue and yellow in the afternoon sun, and Squall stood, weight on one hip, gunblade over his shoulder, running a hand through dark glossy hair that tumbled around his shoulders. Confident, assured, every inch the hero, and still not knowing it.

* * * * * * *

Frila finished slathering the third layer of sunscreen across her shoulders, and lay back on her towel with a contented sigh. The sun warmed her strong, toned body, and she lost herself in the sound of the ocean.

"Tell me if there's any monsters," she said to Sanke, who knelt beside her, busy with bucket and spade. "I'm just going to lie here and drift for a while."

"There won't be," Sanke promised, cheerfully. "I put an enclosure up. Besides, you don't get many on the Estharian coast. Not the West side, anyway. I don't think they can be bothered with the mountains."

Frila closed her eyes and let the world fade a little, listening to the steady chip of spade in moist sand. She was almost asleep when she heard Sanke's voice again.

"Are you looking forward to going home?"

Frila squinted up at her, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand. "Yeah, I guess." She was surprised that Balamb still felt like home, after all this time in Esthar. But it did. She still remembered playing on the beaches there as a child, the sand so much more yellow, the sea so much bluer than this one. She and Sen would play for hours under the protection of her mother's blade and her father's bullets, running endless races which he always let her win. Precious memories, memories stronger, older than the carnage and violence, the blood that had stained the beach at Balamb just before she'd left.

Which seemed longer than the two years it really was. And yet, some things felt as though they happened just yesterday. Inevitably, she found herself propping herself up on her elbows to look to the ocean, searching for shapes in the rolling surf, and let the sadness overwhelm her.

"Sorry," said Sanke. "I didn't mean to make you cry, Fril."

"Not crying," said Frila, swiping the back of her hand swiftly across her eyes. "Bit of sand, I think."

She lay back again, trailing her fingers through the gritty sand, swirling little patterns, digging little channels, making little shapes.

"I don't think I'll bother with water," Sanke murmured to herself. "It's too much effort, going back and forth with the bucket all the time. And I'm not sure this castle even has a moat."

"I'll help," said Frila. "When you're done with the rest. You can't have a castle without a moat."

"Okay," said Sanke, brightly. "Thanks."

Frila smoothed out the landscape she'd made in the sand under her fingers, and started again. Blank canvas, she thought. Fresh start.

"I can't believe it's only-" Sanke checked her watch, a huge disc of pink plastic with a cheerful cartoon dog on it. "Fifty two hours 'til we see Irvine again. It's been so long. Four whole weeks. And you haven't seen him for..." she dropped her spade for a moment to count on her fingers. "Six months," she decided. "You missed him last time." She squinched her face up, thinking. "And the time before."

"I've been busy," said Frila, defensively. She hadn't avoided Irvine for the past two years, exactly. But she tended not to be around when she thought he would be in Esthar, somehow, and she got the feeling he was happy about that. It seemed to work out for the best, that way.

"D'ya think he'll come and wish you luck when you do your field exam next week?"

Fuck I hope not, thought Frila. That would put me right off.

She felt bad for the thought: she knew Sanke desperately wanted them to get on. Irvine was Sanke's hero, no less, idolised like a strong, beautiful elder brother who could do no wrong.

"There. All done. Water, Fril?"

Frila smiled at her. "Great castle, Sanke. Go on then, hand us the bucket."

A few swift laps to the sea and back, and Frila and Sanke stood back to admire their handiwork. A perfect replica of Ultimecia's castle, right in every detail, including the twists of ivy around the pillars in the entrance way, the cracked flagstones of the inner courtyard.

"Can we?" Sanke looked up at Frila, her eyes shining, hands clasped excitedly in front of her chest.

"Your castle, Sanke. You can do what you like with it."

"Come on then!" She gave a little shiver of delight and reached out to hold Frila's hand. "This is always the best bit," she confided.

Frila grinned.

"One... two... three... go!"

They jumped on the perfect sculpture, and kept jumping, squealing in delight, until there was nothing left but a pile of muddy sand; Ultimecia reduced again to dust.

* * * * * * *

Xu curled up under the soft cotton sheet, and dreamed.

She was in a labyrinth, a maze of brick and stone, the walls so high she could see a dusting of snow along the top, amid tufts of grass and birds' nests. The path was rough gravel, crunching under foot, and the passages were long, but not quite endless.

She was looking for Selphie.

Her footsteps were without panic, calm and measured. She knew Selphie was here somewhere, maybe just around the next corner, she would hear her voice, a gentle humming, and then there she would be, waiting for her, pleased to see her. Just around the next corner. Or maybe the next.

The passages got narrower and shorter towards the centre, and although it seemed strange that Selphie should be so far inside, perhaps she was hiding, maybe it was a game. At last she heard something, a heartbeat or the sound of breath, and she raced for the next corner, the next opening, only to screech to a halt as she got there.

Irvine Kinneas stood with his back against the wall, one foot flat against the brick, chewing a grass stem. He cocked his hat further back on his head, and looked at her with warm violet eyes that penetrated her very soul.

"Afternoon, Xu," he said, politely. "You looking too?"

"Yes, she asked me to," said Xu. "She wanted me to."

"I think she's maybe round the next bend, or in the middle," said Irvine.

"Oh." Xu knew she should keep looking. But for some reason she couldn't move. Didn't want to move. She looked into those eyes, and lost herself.

"You not going to find her?"

"I don't know." She felt stupid, awkward, as if he were laughing at her.

"Shame on you," he husked, slinking closer, almost touching her now, looking down at her and licking his lips as if he wanted to eat her all up.

"I... should..."

"She'll understand, you know. You and me. She'd understand. She knows what I'm like."

"But..."

"She doesn't mind betrayal. I even heard she liked it." His voice was soft velvet and warm honey; she could feel his breath on her lips as he spoke. "Betrayal's what she wants. Pain and misery are her food and drink, we mustn't let her starve."

Xu's eyes fluttered shut as he kissed her, pressing her up against the wall in one smooth movement. She clutched handfuls of his hair and kissed him back, tasting the faint hint of grass on his lips, pushing her tongue into his mouth to taste it better. He moved one broad hand up her thigh, pushing her short uniform skirt easily out of the way, massaging the muscles tired from walking so far.

"You want this?" He pushed his hips against hers, and she felt the shove of his hard cock against her belly.

"Yes," she whispered, nibbling on his earlobe, hitching one leg up around his waist. "Yes, please, I want it... please..."

His fingers fluttered at her inner thigh, teasing their way under the soft cotton of her panties. He pulled the fabric to one side, and entered her in one, swift thrust, his eyes on hers all the time, biting his lip in concentration. He looked smug, pleased with himself, pleased with her, like she was a prize, a trophy. She didn't much care what he thought; his prick felt good inside her and for now that's all that mattered, to be taken, not gently or lovingly, no tasting or giving, just fucking, hard and brutal, the stone cool against her naked back. She banged her head back against it with every thrust, not caring if it hurt, every thrust an act of violence and passion.

She clung to him as she came, willing him to spurt inside her, and when he did, she screamed.

She collapsed back against the wall, opening her eyes for his final, dribbling thrusts, stared over his shoulder at the shifting shape of the walls, and almost understood.

* * * * * * *