Fic: Do I Dare Disturb The Universe? Chapter 13 Time To Murder & Create Pt I: Decisions & Revisions
Chapter 13 continued...
Time to Murder and Create
Part I: Decisions and Revisions
Cont from part I-1
T minus 6 hours
Lightning's hands are shaking as she twists the detonating cord into the shapes that she wants, attaching the detonators, and carefully - oh so carefully - placing them in her pack again.
She has four bombs. Individually, they're small, but if she can either place them at various load-bearing points of the garage, or under the Skytank itself, they'll destroy both the building and the tank. She wants to get into the garage, which would mean blowing a hole in an exterior wall and placing as many bombs as possible on the interior. Preferably all on the Skytank, and/or any fuel supply.
Burning their fuel would be a huge bonus. Without fuel, the Skytank will still be useless. Whereas Sazh has worked to upgrade and retrofit all his machinery and his ship with renewable energy sources, these monsters have only stolen the limited fuel that the outposts had on hand. They'd run out soon enough anyway, and like locusts, would descend on any supply that fills their immediate needs.
The problem, as Sazh had explained to her numerous times, is that the fuel that they all have won't outlast the year. They desperately need to establish an energy source and power grid before that happens. If they don't, whatever semblance of civilization remains in this world would disappear.
So, burning their fuel supply is a highly desirable secondary objective for her. It's not mission critical: their mission is to save the hostages before Sazh blows the place to hell. That means she needs to neutralize the Skytank as a distraction in order to allow Snow and the hostages to slip away undetected. But if she can take out any reserves of fuel so that stragglers and survivors can't use it? That'd be a big bonus.
She takes a moment to check her rifle again. It's adequate, but she wishes she had the comfortable weight of her Edged Carbine at her hip.
She takes a moment to gather the chain up, remembering the master lock above. Snow doesn't usually use any weapons, preferring hand to hand. He's simply in no condition for it today. If anything attacks him, he'll need more than his usual agility and strength to save himself and the hostages. The chain isn't much, but he can put enough force behind a swing to knock someone out from several paces.
With the right application of force, he could probably snap someone's neck before they got near him. She climbs the stairs, plucks the master lock from where she left it, and locks it onto the hoop of chain that she created for it. It's a good weight, and she managed to balance it well. She pulls it over her shoulder and turns to look at Snow, finds him already watching her with a small smile on his face. He nods at her.
They're okay for now. She's more relieved than she'd thought possible.
Snow wasn't wrong about the two of them always fighting. Lightning and Snow have butted heads since the day they met. She thought he was a worthless, jobless, do-nothing, lay about loser sponging off Lightning by taking advantage of Serah's naivety. Snow thought she was a miserable, judgmental, stuck up bitch who was determined to control her sister's life.
Their opinions of one another didn't improve when Serah turned to crystal, either.
It wasn't until they started fighting side-by-side that Lightning admitted to herself that she'd misjudged Snow. She can't say when he went from thinking she was the human equivalent of cancer, to trusted comrade in arms, but she knows that he extended the olive branch long before she willingly accepted it.
Snow can't hold grudges. Lightning can't not hold grudges. It's who they are.
Right now, she is so thankful for Snow's forgiving nature that she could weep. Today had been a terrible day for the two of them, and Lightning really needs him on her side right now. She doesn't want to part here on bad terms. She's not an idiot. She knows that their odds are poor. They're surrounded by enemies, behind enemy lines. Snow is still nowhere near top shape, and neither is she, if she's being honest. Sure, she's in far better shape than he is, but she's sporting a minor concussion. She'd nearly died the previous day in that little avalanche, and then again of exposure as she lay freezing to death on the Steppe. A few hours' sleep and a bottle of elixir doesn't erase that kind of traumatic injury, any more than an Eidolon's healing spell can put to rights all the wrongs inflicted on Snow.
They're both the walking wounded. They need to be on the same page, or they'll never survive this night.
So Snow's small smile untwists a knot around her heart that Lightning hadn't even realized was tied in the first place. They're okay; they'll be okay.
Snow turns his attention back to the women and says, "Okay, here's the plan, ladies: you're all with me. You stick close to me; you do what I say, when I say it. I'm going do everything I can to keep you safe, but I need you to help me do that, okay? I promise you, as long as I'm breathing, no one is putting their hands on you again."
Lightning cannot express the love she has for this man.
"Lightning here," he points to her, "is going to set a distraction, and you're going to stick with me. We're going to be quick and quiet. I'm going to cut through the fence, and you're all going to go through ahead of me and keep the cliffs on your right. Stay as close to them as possible. Keep one hand on them if you have to. If you're out of the shadow of the mountains, they'll spot you easy. The Steppe is covered in a layer of snow and ice, which reflects any and all light. That means stay low, stay in the shadow and move. Don't stop! I don't care what you hear, you don't stop moving. If I go down, you keep moving. Do you understand me?" They all nod at him, murmuring quiet agreements. "Okay. Good enough. Get ready."
Snow moves over to Lightning, glances at the dead body on the floor as he passes it. "I know this piece of shit," he says. Then he spits on him. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy." Then he looks her right in the eyes. "You have 15 minutes. Then I'm coming back for you. That's the deal." He says it with a finality that indicates he will accept no arguments from her.
She has no plans to give him one. She nods, hands him the chain, which he gives a strange look but accepts. She gathers her belongings, slipping one of the bombs into each pocket, and leaving two in the bag. When she looks back at Snow, he's eyeing her unhappily.
Uh oh.
"What's the matter?" she asks.
"You stick out like a sore thumb. They'll spot you from across the camp." He heaves a sigh, and it looks for a moment like he's going to balk at the entire plan and insist they scrap it and start over. She knows how much he hates leaving her behind, and she knows that it's only because he trusts her that he conceded an argument that he'd already won. Then he looks at the dead body again and says, "Oh, I hate this idea."
"What?"
"Put his coat on," Snow says, pointing at the camouflage coat Jace was wearing when she caved in his skull. "With the rifle and the coat, you'll blend in from a distance. From close up, it'll buy you a second or two to act. You don't need more than that if you get cornered. I've seen you take out three guys in two seconds. Granted that's usually with your blade, but you have your creep friend with you." He smirks as he says it. She huffs a laugh at the use of Odin's hated nickname. Of course, she knows that's why Snow insists on using it: because it both amuses and annoys her. "He'll lend you a sword, and give you a ride, right? What am I worried about?"
She looks at Jace's dead body. The thought of touching him makes her skin crawl, but Snow is right. It's a good plan. She has no valid reason for refusing him. Still…
She hesitates too long.
"Light? What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Don't give me 'nothing.' If something's wrong, you tell me. We've got one shot at this. If there's a problem, let's go over it and fix it."
"There's no problem, Snow."
"I can see there's a problem. And the more you tell me there isn't one, the worse I think it is."
She sighs. "I just…" she has no idea what to say. All the reasons she has for not wanting to touch that man, never mind wear his coat, are firmly grounded in emotion. Reason dictates that it's just a coat, and it'll work as a disguise and potentially save her life, and Snow's life by proxy. He's already made it clear that he's coming back for her, and he's willing to die to do it. That can't happen. "Nothing. It's nothing." She kneels down and starts pulling at the jacket, willing her hands to stop shaking.
Snow kneels down next to her, staring at her with concern, studying her every movement as though trying to divine truths from her actions that she won't reveal in words. Then he looks down at the body. Then back at her again, and she sees the pieces fall into place. His whole face changes, transforms into a mask of horrified outrage.
Damn it.
"Oh, fuck this!" Snow says, and pulls her up and away. He leads her to the other side of the room, holds onto her elbows and tries to meet her eyes. When she continues avoiding them, he says, "Look at me." His voice is soft, but insistent. She'd really wanted to avoid this entire topic, but there's nothing to be done about it now. She sighs, then meets his eyes and he stiffens. She can see a tremor pass through his body. He closes his eyes, blows out a hard breath, and says, "Forget the coat."
She's so relieved that he's not going to make her talk about it!
"It's a good plan, Snow."
"Yeah, it would be a good plan if he hadn't-", he cuts himself off, shaking with rage. "Did you kill him?"
"Yes."
"That's my girl," he whispers; he tucks her hair behind her ear, then kisses her temple. "Come on, let's get the fuck out of here."
"Can you get me the coat? I just don't want to…" touch him, she thinks. She can't say it aloud. It's too much like admitting that he took something from her.
"You don't have to wear the coat, Light. I'm sorry I suggested it."
"No, it's a good idea," she says, meaning it. "I just don't want to-"
"I got it," he says. "If you're sure. I don't want you doing this if it upsets you. We have enough problems. It's not that big of a deal."
"A couple of seconds, Snow." A couple of seconds can and have meant the difference between life and death for her before. He knows it: that's why he came up with the plan in the first place.
He sighs and nods. "All right." She faces away while he retrieves the coat. She hears him say, "Motherfucker" and kick the dead body, before walking back over to her and helping her into the coat. She reaches for the buttons, but he whispers, "I got it," and brushes her fingers aside. She doesn't argue the point because she prefers not touching this coat at all. Once it's buttoned up, he looks her over with a critical eye. "Do you want to wear my hat? Cover your hair up?"
Translation: your hair gives you away. Except…
"No. You need it." He does. He's still too pale, and too cold.
"Not more than I need you, I don't." It's a devastating admission, and he says it like it's a lunch order. Unbelievable.
"I have an idea." She pulls his bandanna out of her pocket; she works to untie the knot, palming, then pocketing the blond hairs that she'd so coveted the entire journey here. "Think this will work?" It's obvious from the look on his face that he recognizes the bandanna as his. He tilts his head at her as if he's never seen her before, but she breaks eye contact and looks back at the bandanna.
He shocks her by not commenting.
"Here, I'll tie it on." She lets him have the bandanna, lets him pull her hair into it to cover as much of it as possible. When she turns to look at him, he kisses her forehead, then her lips, and says, "Now…let's get the fuck out of here."
TBC…