heh i think this is one of the worst things i've ever written. i couldn't even think of a decent name to use so i just used to the place in the game where i heard the music thta inspired(FYI cosmo canyon when RedXIII finds out the truth music for those of you who play FFVII) so give it to me straight, how bad is it?

The rain was pouring down over the battlefield. Scattered across the

ground were the bodies of men and women, their flesh torn apart by the

blades they gripped in their hands. Slowly the rain washed away the dirt and

blood from their still bodies, letting it seep into the ground.

A few miles away a young woman lay in a clearing in the middle of a


Her eyes were closed as she savored the coldness that was streaming down

her forehead. The rain seeped into her clothes, soaking the leather armor she

wore. Beside her a blood-soaked sword and a battered shield lay in the

grass. The blood dripped slowly away from the blade and into the earth

beneath it.

Her eyes opened slowly, allowing the rain to mix with the tears that

were pushing their way out.

Even now she could hear the screams of her people, her friends, as

they ran to their deaths. She could feel the heat of the people she herself had

killed while trying to defend her own life. And she could smell the hot scent

of death and blood as she ran from the cesspool that had engulfed all those

she had loved.

Her only solace was that now he had to have been dead as well. She

had searched for any survivors, whether they be her comrade or her enemy.

She was finally free of him.

She sat up, wincing at the sudden pain in her back. How long had she

been laying here? It was before the rain, she knew that much. The summer

sun had still been threatening to come out when she had collapsed here. But

by now the sky had turned a dark blue in the evening light. It must have

been hours since she had moved from this one spot.

Shifting a little, she started to untie the strings holding her armor on.

She had barely undone one, when she heard a rustle from the forest. In a

liquid movement she was on her feet, her sword clenched in her hand. She

breath deepened as she waited, preparing herself for a kill. The trees parted

and a figure emerged. She gasped, as the figure's face became clear. It

wasn't possible. He had to have died!

He looked about the clearing before he noticed her. He frowned for a

moment, as if uncertain it was her. Finally he said very simply: "?"

Her voice froze in her throat. This was impossible; the battle had

killed them all!

She was the only one to escape on either side!

"Quae, what are you doing here?" he asked, stepping toward her,

lowering his sword.

She backed away, her sword still outstretched. "No," she whispered

more to herself then him.

He looked confused. "Quae?" he asked, taking another step toward



"Don't come near me!" she screamed, jumping backward.

"Quae!" He stared at her oblivious to what he had done to hurt her.

"What is it, are you hurt?"

"You know I am," she hissed, her eyes narrowing.

The realization finally dawned in his face. For a moment he looked at

a loss for words. He looked away for a moment, his face filled with grief.

When he looked up at her, his eyes were filled with desperation. "Quae—"

he began, but she cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it," she whispered harshly. She shifted slightly

into a fighting stance, her sword outward in front of her.

He opened his mouth as if to reply anyway, but then seemed to think

better of it. "Please," he whispered at last. "We must find the others, they'll


"The others are dead." She spat the words out like a curse.

He gaped at her. "Dead?" he whispered in shock.


"You were there!" she cried. "You had to have been! They
ambushed us, everyone died!"

"I wasn't there." It was barely a whisper. "I was with the

Commander. We – none of you made it back to the base so we dispersed –"

"I don't care," she interrupted. "All that matters is that you should be

dead! I thought you were dead, they're all dead! You shouldn't be here!"

His face looked wounded when she said that, but she refused to feel

any sympathy. "You should have died back there with the rest of them."

"What about you?" he cried. "You're still living!"

"I fought my way here!" she screamed. "I watched my friends die in

front of me and I killed the enemies before the could kill me, I've earned my

life! And now I've earned yours."

She raised her sword in a dual-like manor.

"You want to fight me?" There was no humor in his voice, no

confusion, nor tiredness. Just sadness, and reluctance.

"No," she breathed. "I want to kill you."

He shook his head. "I won't fight you Quae."

"You'll give your life to me willingly?" she asked.

"I've given you everything!" he cried out. "I have never refused you


"And you've taken everything as well!" she screamed back. "You

stole my soul and my innocence!" She turned away to hide her tears. "And

now I shall take you life."

Without waiting for a reply he lunged at him, sword high.

Instinctively he raised his own sword blocking her blow and threw her

backwards. She retaliated by swinging low, but he dodged out of the way,

and brought his sword down hard against hers attempting to disarm her. She

ducked bringing the sword up near his throat. He jumped back quickly, then

charged forward meeting her blade with his bringing them close together for

a moment.

"I cannot excuse what I did," he hissed. She grinded their blades

together and jumped back. "Nor can I ask you to forgive me," he continued

blocking another one of her blows. He ducked as she swung in for his

throat. "I'll never even forgive myself, for what happened, and I'll hate

myself for it, for the rest of my life." He swung in hard, again trying to

disarm her. She swung around bringing her blade up nearly slicing his

throat. "I wasn't myself."

"I don't care if you were drunk and didn't realize what you were

doing," she replied, fending his sword off as he yet again attempted to

disarm her. "I had to feel the pan ripping through me! You remember

nothing! I have the scars imprinted in my brain, forever!"

"I'm sorry!" he cried. He swung in hard, against her blade but she met

him with equal strength, bringing them close together again. "I never

wanted to hurt you, I never will allow myself—"

"I'll make sure of it!" she cried pushing him back and lunging in

knocked the sword from his hand. Kicking him in the stomach and then in

the chest, she sent him to the ground. She kicked him again in the side,

making him turn over onto his back.

And then she stood over him, as he lay completely helpless, just like

she had, the night that he stole it all from her. The sword was above her

head, aimed straight at his throat, as he started up a it.

Then, as if accepting his fate, he closed his eyes and lifted his chin in

defeat. Her hands gripped the hilt tightly, and she waited for the sword to

lower itself into his neck.

But nothing happened. She just stood there looking down on him,

unable to move. The rain had stopped but the water still dripped from her

hair, down her face.

The tears were flowing down her face now in silent streams. She

clenched her eyes shut and then. . .

"Arugh!" she screamed. She threw the blade away, into the clearing.

Turning away she fell to her knees, her hands in her hair, gripping it to the

roots and pulling. "Why?" she screamed. "What can't I kill you? I hate

you! I want you to die, I want to kill you! Why can't I do it?"

She broke of sobbing burying her face into her lap. She could feel her

hairs slowly begin to pull away from its roots, but she didn't ease her grip.

She began rocking back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably.

She felt a soft touch on her shoulder, and abruptly stopped rocking.

Both his hands were on her shoulders, just touching her gently. Slowly they

moved up and into her hair, making her unclench her fists, then gently

rubbed the spots were she had been pulling. She sobs turned into small

gasps, as he pulled her back so that she was in his lap, and he held her there.

Closing her eyes to let a few tears pass she leaned up against him,

momentarily forgetting about everything. All she wanted in that moment

was to go back to the way things were before, when she had loved him, and

he had held her like this all the time.

After a moment she shifted away and lay down on the slightly wet

grass. He hesitated before following her, his eyes shining a bit, as he looked

at her still trembling form.

"Quae," he whispered, and touched her face softly. Then he lowered

his mouth onto hers gently.

Her eyes closed, and for just a moment she was kissing him back, lost

in a world of confusion. But then she recovered and realized what she was


She pushed away gasping a little and rolled over. Oh God what had

she done? She had let him do, she had even returned it. Her breath had been

reduced to ragged gasps, as she tried to reason with herself.

Finally she jus stood up, and walked over to where her sword had

landed. It was gleaming slightly, in the dark moonlight. Still standing she

began to unstrap her armor, sighing in relief at the sudden feeling of

lightness and air. Then she lay the armor out and lay on it, wincing at the

discomfort, but happy to have some protection from the ground.

Hours passed as she lay, not allowing her mind to think of him, or the

horrific scenes that were begging to be replayed after the battle. The

screams were echoing in her head again, when she finally, shuddered and

lost her train of thought.

Looking across the clearing she saw him sitting alone in the dark. He

took had shed his armor, but it was laying next to him untouched. He was

staring up at the sky, completely lost in his own thoughts.

And then slowly it dawned on her. He was as lost as she was. What

he had done, was not something he had ever thought capable of himself. But

now he had no idea who he was, or what he was trying to be.

Pulling herself from the ground, she walked over to him. He didn't

look up as she came closer until she touched his face. Gasping a little his

eyes shot up at her, their expression hopeful and pleading. Kneeling down

she pulled herself into his lap, and touched his face lightly. Then she moved

in slowly and brushed her mouth against his. It was a moment before he

returned the kiss, as if he were afraid it wasn't real, and he was creating it

out of wishful thinking.

When she finally broke away, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Quae—" he whispered, but she shushed him.

"I don't need to hear it," she whispered. She kissed him lightly on the

lips, and pulled him close to her. His hands clenched at her sides and buried

his face into his shoulder, kissing it softly, before they shifted and curled up

on the ground.

They lay there in blissful for silence, for a long time until she

whispered: "Keto?"


She hesitated. "I forgive you."