The mansion sat on a Dolletian hillside above the sea. It was an imposing and massive structure constructed of weathered gray stone, the walls covered in creeping ivy. Gothic stained glass windows and doors gave it a slightly ominous and haunted look, but there was no denying it was beautiful. The grounds were meticulously kept, and the scent of roses and jasmine wafted over and above the tang of fresh cut grass and chlorinated water from a nearby fountain.

Squall Leonhart eyed the towers and peaked roofs and the exquisitely manicured landscaping with mild interest as he peered through the iron gate that barred his way onto the property. Photos of the Delacroix Estate had been sent over to his office when he took the job, and he knew the details, but he hadn't been prepared for how massive the estate truly was. He was awed and a little disgusted by the opulence

How did one live in a place like this?

The mechanical whine of something above turned his attention from the palatial home and he glanced up as a small camera panned over him. He hitched up his bag of equipment over his shoulder and pressed the button on the panel next to him.

"State your business."

"L & A Security Service," he said. "I'm here to see Gary Ballas, per Mr. Delacroix's request."

"Your name?"

"Leo Loire."

Squall had used an alias professionally for the last few years to distance himself from his past. It saved him the trouble of answering questions about why he was no longer commander of Balamb Garden, what the war was like or how many people he'd killed. It gave him a certain amount of anonymity and kept the star-struck admirers and reporters at bay. Not that it was so much a problem these days, but there was still some curiosity about his whereabouts and activities, and Squall just wanted to be left alone.

Most of the time, it worked, so long as no one recognized him. These days, no one did. A half inch of stubble and shoulder length, sun streaked hair made him look much more like his father than he ever had. The only thing he couldn't hide was the scar, but when people asked about it, and most didn't, he lied and said it was from an accident when he was a kid.

The gate opened with a painful moan, the hinges protesting his entry loudly. Squall could already tell this was going to be a big, time-consuming job. He'd been told the place needed an upgrade, but from the looks of it, it needed an complete overhaul. That was not a problem. Delacroix was prepared to spend whatever was needed to get with the times, and that meant a big paycheck for Squall.

A man in his sixties met Squall on the sidewalk and offered his hand and a cheerful smile. His uniform telegraphed his position in bold yellow letters before introductions were made: Security.

"Gary Ballas," he said and offered his hand. "Head of security. Nice to meetcha."

"Good to meet you," Squall said. He declined to shake the man's hand with a polite nod. "Will Mr. Delacroix be joining us?"

"Naw, he's in Esthar. Won't be back until tonight," Gary said. "I'll be able to answer any questions you have. The Mister doesn't know much about the system, the Missus knows even less."

"She's home?" Squall asked.

"She's around here somewhere," Gary said, "putting the finishing touches on tonight's shindig, so it's best we leave her to her work."

"Understood," Squall said. "Mind if we start with the control room?"


Rinoa Delacroix watched the handsome, young pool boy on the deck below from her expansive bedroom balcony. She shouldn't loiter like this, but she couldn't help herself. He was handsome, lean and toned, and she had half a mind to put on her skimpiest bathing suit and go stretch out on a deck chair so she could get a closer look. That was all she wanted. A look.

It wasn't worth the effort, and she didn't have the time to sun herself. She had things to do, but she couldn't find it in herself to tear her eyes away from the ripple of hard muscle under the young man's back as he pushed a wide brush along the bottom of the pool.

When she married Florian Delacroix, Rinoa had known what she was getting herself into. Their marriage wasn't exactly loveless, and she had a deep affection and respect for her husband and he for her, but they hadn't married for love but for the benefits they offered each other. His connections had helped her free Timber and raise money for charities, and her family name, pretty face and witty conversation made him look less broken than he was.

If their relationship wasn't loveless, it was most certainly sexless.

It had been a long, long time since anyone had touched her that way, and she craved physical affection the way an alcoholic craves the next drink. Florian was unable make love to her, and though he was kind and their affection for one another genuine, it left her deeply dissatisfied to not enjoy all the benefits of a real marriage. Their relationship was all affection, no passion and Rinoa thought she could live with that, but as the years went by, it got harder and harder to not wish for more.

Which was why her eyes were drawn to to the handsome pool boy in all his half-naked glory. Not that she intended to jump him. Or do anything more than stare.

She turned from the view as her personal maid, Marilee entered the room and held up two gowns for her to choose from. One was black and slinky, the other pale blue beaded with a full ballroom skirt.

"The black," Rinoa said, without thinking about it.

"Yes, Ms Noni," Marilee said. "Which shoes?"

"The strappy satin ones, I think," Rinoa said. "Donate the blue dress, please. Actually, donate everything that color."

"Yes, ma'am."

Pale blue was the color of her youth, something she was trying to leave behind. It was bad enough all the wives of her husbands associates feared her because she was a Sorceress. She didn't want to give them another reason rehash her days as a teenage terrorist or her lengthy involvement with SeeD. It had already been a heavily discussed topic behind her back, and she was doing everything she could to distance herself from it.

"The caterers are also here," Marilee said. "Would you like them to start setting up?"

"Yes, please," Rinoa said. "Make sure they know there should be a separate buffet set up for the staff as well. And the leftovers are to be donated to the Decatur St. homeless shelter."

"Yes, Ms. Noni."

"And make sure your daughter gets a plate, too, Marilee," Rinoa said. "I wouldn't want her to miss out on that cherry cheesecake she loves so much."

Marilee smiled and nodded at her employer. "Thank you Ms. Noni."

Rinoa could not get anyone on staff except Gary to stop being so damned formal. She was no tyrant and treated everyone with equal respect, but they all acted as though she was some kind of queen they needed to kowtow to. She preferred a more relaxed environment but they were determined to maintain the lines of class distinction in a way Rinoa found maddening.

Worse, they'd all adopted Florian's pet name for her, and she hated it. It became such a thing, even Florian's associates now called her Noni and she'd given up on correcting them.

A silly pet name was a small price to pay for what Florian had done for her. As grating as it was, it was a petty thing to be angry about. Let them call her what they wanted.

A glance at the clock told her she'd wasted far too much time staring at the pretty young thing cleaning the pool. She headed downstairs to check that the table arrangements were done and everything would be ready when her guests arrived. Her hairdresser would be the shortly, which meant she would have to start getting ready herself if she didn't want to be late to her own party.

The florist had delivered the wrong centerpieces, but Rinoa didn't bother to get upset about it. Some of the ladies in her social circle would see botched centerpieces as a black mark on their ability to host an event, but it was the least of Rinoa's concerns. No one would notice the difference, and it wasn't worth having a tantrum over. Decorations were not the point. The money the event would raise was far more important than whether or not the arrangements contained baby's breath and hydrangea instead of tiger-lily and hyssop.

Centerpieces aside, the ballroom was ready and she double checked the seating arrangement to ensure certain people hadn't been placed at the wrong table. In Rinoa's opinion, you sat where you sat, but in this world, who you associated with was everything. And seating was taken as seriously as the menu choices and often used as a weapon or to subversively put someone in their place. It was the equivalent of placing a teenager at the kid's table, but worse.

She checked in with the caterers to make sure they understood her directions for the leftover food. The last time she'd hosted, they'd discarded everything at the end of the night, after she'd promised the extras to the Decatur St. Homeless Shelter. It was important that nothing go to waste. It didn't matter if she could afford to throw it away, it was ridiculous to discard so much food when so many people were hungry. And there were a lot of people in need.

She issued a few more orders to the housekeeping staff, made sure the ballroom passed muster one last time and returned to her room to stare at the pool boy until her hairdresser arrived.


Gary gave Squall a tour of the house, from the control room to the maintenance shed and everything in between. Squall was mildly sickened by the display of wealth around him. The Gothic mansion was beautiful, but the decadence was unnecessary. The house had 15 bedrooms, a ballroom, which was currently decked out in fancy decorations, a massive restaurant sized kitchen, a formal dining room with a table that seated 30, an old fashioned game room, two formal living rooms, a huge and well maintained pool with a guest house that overlooked the ocean, tennis courts, and a library big enough to belong in a university.

A house like this was passed down through generations, belongings and items of value amassed over time – antiques and heirlooms a testament of old money and familial renown. New money was looked down upon; those that started with nothing and built a name and an empire of their own were tasteless and vulgar, just by virtue of being self-made. Old money families were snobbish in their associations, proud of their antiques and turned their noses up at people like Squall's father. Even if Laguna was a President and invited to all the parties, they all knew he'd begun his life as the son of a chocobo farmer in Galbadia, born dirt poor with barely two Gil to rub together.

The stamp of the Estate's inhabitants personalities should have left a mark. There should have been some hint of the people that lived there, but all Squall saw was a showcase for power and generations up on generations of wealth. Delacroix liked beautiful things and his home was a well preserved museum of paintings and sculptures and rare Centran pottery, fine Trabian carpets in muted shades, and turn of the century hand-built Galbadian furniture. It was stunning, but also sickening.

The estate needed a total overhaul of its security system and that was good news for Squall. The cameras were at least twenty years old, and the feed from them was dark and grainy. They only covered 30% of the property, and the one on the back side of the house wasn't even wired into the system. The alarm was only set up on every other window, and some of the contacts were weathered and only semi-functional. It was a big job, but Delacroix was willing to pay whatever to get the latest updates and equipment.

As they returned to the control room, Squall ran Gary through his assessment of the work, but the man waved him off.

"Whatever needs to be done, Mr. Loire," he said. "The Mister said not to worry about how much it costs, just get us up to date."

Gary plopped into a chair at the desk and gave the monitors a cursory glance. Grainy footage filled each screen and Squall had to look closely to tell which rooms were which. How did a man with everything neglect the safety of his property this way? The housekeeping staff could rob him blind and no one would ever know.

"How long you think it'll take?" Gary asked.

"Maybe two weeks," Squall said. "And please, call me Leo."

When the phone on the desk rang, Gary picked it up and turned his attention away from the monitor bank.

"What can I do for you Noni?" he asked. Gary rolled his eyes and nodded at the phone. "Of course. I'll be right up."

He hung up and stood, hitching a thumb toward the door.

"The Missus wants her diamonds," Gary said. A wry smile twisted his lips and his eyes glittered with mischief. "Come on. I'll show you the safe. That's the only secure thing in this house."

Squall followed him back to the library where Gary moved a cleverly hidden latch and rolled away one of the bookshelves. Behind it was a small alcove protected by a laser system. Beyond the alcove, a floor to ceiling door with a numeric key pad. The lasers were deactivated by thumb print, and Squall turned his face away as Gary punched in the code to open the safe.

The safe interior was the size of Squall's living room and housed a strange assortment of things. There were vases and paintings and various other artifacts, no doubt all valuable and rare. At the back was another smaller safe that opened to reveal a cluster of velvet boxes, a handful of firearms and some documents. Gary selected one of the boxes, closed the safe and turned to Squall.

"Impressive set-up," Squall said.

"Can't be too careful with the real valuables," Gary said. "Check this out."

Gary opened the box to reveal an exquisite necklace of platinum set with dozens of tear drop shaped diamonds and a pair matching earrings. Squall estimated there were two-dozen or more karats of flawless and beautifully cut diamonds.

Who the hell could afford something like that? The earrings alone were worth more than everything he owned, business included.

"Wedding gift from the Mister to the Missus," Gary said with pride. "Shiny, isn't it?"

"That's one hell of a wedding gift," Squall remarked.

Gary closed up the safe and Squall took a look around the library again. It was the only room he'd seen so far that was lived in. On one lounge was a well-loved knit blanket and a romance novel was opened face down on the seat to mark the reader's place. On the desk was a a computer, a printer and stacks of disorganized papers, a mug with a chocobo on it full of colored pens and pencils, and a framed wedding photo that showed a wheelchair bound man in a tux with a beautiful, dark-haired woman in his lap.

There was something familiar about the woman, but Squall couldn't recall a name or a time when they'd met. It wasn't unusual for Squall to forget people from his past. His years with SeeD and his extensive use of Guardian Forces had robbed him of too many memories to count. If she was someone important, he couldn't recall. Most likely, she was someone he'd met in passing through his father. Delacroix and Laguna ran in overlapping social circles, and Squall had been invited to plenty of Laguna's gatherings over the years. In that time, he'd met dozens of his father's associates, and there were too many to remember them all by name.

"Let's get these to Noni and then I'll get you set up with some access codes so you can get started."

Upstairs in the family wing, Gary knocked on a door at the end of the hall. A pretty young housekeeper answered and ushered them into a room that was tastefully decorated in shades of cream and chocolate. The dark wood furniture was old and ornate, probably hand carved, turn-of-the-century antiques. Photographs lined the mantle of a grand stone fireplace, along with a handful of incongruous, inexpensive trinkets that were out of place among the opulent décor.

A dark haired woman sat at the vanity in a plush robe with a sea of make up spread out before her. Even in profile, she was beautiful.Familiar. Not because he'd just seen her photo downstairs, either.

"Hi Gary," she said pleasantly. She lifted some tool Squall couldn't identify to her eyelashes without a glance in their direction. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Mr. Leo Loire," Gary said. "He's here to upgrade our security system."

"Loire?" she asked, not looking away from the mirror. "Any relation to Laguna?"

"Distantly," Squall lied.

"He's such a nice man," she said wistfully. "I used to know him pretty well, though our paths haven't crossed much lately. Marilee, remind me to invite him to the next event. I'd love to see him again."

"Yes, ma'am," the maid said. "I'll put it in your planner."

Squall almost rolled his eyes but refrained out of professionalism. His father was nice, but he was also flighty and scatterbrained. Here today, gone tomorrow, the man lost track of time and people far too easily for a man responsible for the welfare of an entire nation.

She set the strange tool down on the vanity and faced them, curious as her eyes traveled over him. He shifted, uncomfortable under the weight of her silent scrutiny.

"Everyone calls me Noni," she said as she offered her hand. "But I prefer Rinoa, or Rin. But you can call me what you like, just please, no Mrs. Delacroix or Ma'am, or anything like that."

Rinoa. Squall had known a Rinoa once, hadn't he? A long time ago, but his memory of the girl he'd known was a blank, empty hole. All that remained was a brief flicker of a star-filled sky and a kind of contentment he hadn't known in a long, long time.

As a rule, Squall didn't shake hands with strangers, but he was compelled to reach out to her by a force he didn't understand. The brief contact rattled him, and there was a momentary tug of loss in his chest. A longing he couldn't explain.

"Leo," he said as her hand slipped into his. "Nice to meet you."

Her expression changed from curiosity to recognition as she met his eyes. Her head cocked to the side, eyes squinted at the corners and she took him in as if she found him suspect.

"Do we know each other?" she asked. "You look really familiar."

Squall shrugged. "People tell me I look like Laguna..."

That was only half true. From the handful of photos he'd seen, Squall was very much his mother's son. Those that had never met Raine Leonhart saw only the handful of traits he'd inherited from Laguna, which were few. His height and build were similar, and now that he wore his hair long, he heard it more often than he used to.

"That must be it," she said but it was clear she was unconvinced.

She stared the scar on his forehead and bit her lip, eyes wide with what could only be surprise. He'd been identified. This was a common reaction when people figured out who he really was, and it was usually followed by gushing praise or a sudden shyness.

She did neither. She just stared as a hand came up to her throat to clasp something that wasn't there. The motion triggered a memory that was there and then gone in an instant, leaving behind only an image of ruined pillars and a dreary, overcast sky.

They stared at one another in silence for nearly a minute. Squall couldn't tear his eyes away, drawn into the warmth in her eyes in a way he could not remember being drawn in by a woman before. She was his type physically, but that didn't account for the conflicted emotion in his chest as he stared back. Her lips curved into a hesitant smile and Squall's throat closed tight, choked-up for no reason at all.

Gary's eyes darted back and forth between them and held out the jewelry box for Rinoa to take. It was enough to break the inexplicable tension and she turned to the older man with a grateful smile.

Something dark and sad flickered in her face as she opened the box and ran a finger over the largest of the gems. With a sigh, she closed the box and set it aside, then turned on a warm, friendly smile.

"Leo, why don't you stick around for the party tonight?" she asked. "Free food and drinks."

He had no interest in rubbing shoulders with the rich and powerful. He had found the company they kept was pretentious and elitist. Every event was essentially a dick measuring contest of big watches and expensive jewels and designer apparel that Squall would never be able to afford. He was a working man that would never fit into that world, and he didn't want to.

"Thank you, but I have a 9-year-old I need to get home to," he said.

Her brows raised and there was more surprise in her expression than was due. That was followed by hurt and something Squall could only label as jealousy. She changed emotions faster than Zell ate hot dogs, and she was not good at hiding them.

"You have children?"

"My niece," he said. "My sister passed away and I wound up with custody."

"Oh, that's so sad. I'm sorry," she said, genuine in her sympathy. "I could send a car for her. I'm sure we could rustle up a dress for her to wear."

"That's kind of you, but I really should be going. Perhaps another time."

"Of course," she said. "Please feel free to raid the buffet before you go. There's more than enough, and the cheesecake is wonderful. Take a few slices with you."

"Thank you. I'll do that," he said to be polite.

The hopeful way she looked at him was disconcerting and he wanted to get out of there as fast as he could. She was beautiful, but the longer he was in her presence, the greater his instinct to run.

"I'm not wanted here."

"Damn it, yes you are. I want you here."

These words cut across him like a blade to the gut, a knife to the heart, and then it was gone. Like every memory from his days with SeeD, it was shrouded in fog and confusion and then gone for good. Just a snapshot of a moment with no context, like so many others he could not recall. The words meant something, but nothing at all.

When he met her eyes, her gaze was watchful and calculating.

"The forests of Timber sure have changed," she said.

Familiar words spoken aloud, yet they meant no more than the ones he'd imagined. Maybe she was just a bored, rich woman who liked to play games and say cryptic things to get a reaction. Was it code for something? A greeting? A secret password for an elite club? Was there any significance to this, or was it just another glitch, a sign he was about to fall head-first into insanity again?

It made no sense. The forests of Timber had burned long ago. There were no forests left, unless they counted the tree farms started a few years ago by some savvy business-man from Galbadia. No forest, just a sea of saplings that would take years to mature. There was nothing there. Not in memory, and not in reality.

Her face fell when she didn't get the response she expected and he said a hasty goodbye as he followed Gary from the room.

It wasn't until an hour later, stopped at a red light and half way home that the response to her statement came to him.

"But the owls are still around," he said to the steering wheel. He blinked a few times and shook his head. "What the hell does that mean?"

A train. A dark haired girl in sky blue.

"MEANIE!"

A risky, stupid mission that involved climbing all over a moving train and the attempted abduction a president. Seifer. Edea.

Prison.

Why was he remembering this? Was it his first or second mission? It had been so long ago, the memory of it was gone. Unlike Selphie, Squall never bothered to keep track of things he was supposed to remember. The past was best left in the past. There was little worth remembering before the last few years. Only struggle and war and loss. That was all that there was, and if the GF's took those memories from him, he didn't miss them.

As he pulled into his driveway and shut the engine off, the phrases rattled around inside his head. Without context, it had no significance. Maybe it meant nothing at all, but he couldn't shake the impression that it was even more profound than it seemed.

Loud music blared from inside his rented town house as he unlocked the front door and stepped into the foyer. He dropped his bag on the floor and found his niece Lily laying on the couch with her feet propped up on the arm rest. She stared at the ceiling with her arms crossed over her chest, a dark scowl on her pretty face.

Squall went to the stereo and turned it off. His scowl mirrored hers as he looked down at her sullen expression. Books and papers littered the floor, and her sketchbook was open, pencil shavings all over a blank sheet of paper.

"I hate this place," she said to the ceiling.

"We haven't been here long enough to hate it, Lil," Squall said. "Give it a chance."

"Whatever," she said.

"Did something happen at school?"

She shrugged and continued to glare at the ceiling. For a nine year old, she was as surly as a teenager already, and very, very angry. Time had not healed the loss of her mother, nor the way Laguna had all but dumped her in his lap claiming he knew nothing about raising kids and that she'd be better off with Squall. As if Squall knew any more than Laguna did about child rearing. Squall was way out of his comfort zone, but he loved Lily and refused to be the next person to leave her. He knew what that was like, even if he couldn't remember it.

He sighed and turned the music back on at a much lower volume and left the room to forage for something to eat. As he opened the refrigerator door, the volume went back up and he popped his head out of the kitchen.

"Volume!" he shouted over the noise.

With a huff, Lilly got up and turned it off. Squall returned to the living room and peered at he sullen girl on the couch.

"The neighbors already complained about it once," Squall said. "If you want to destroy your ear drums, use the headphones I got you."

"Fine," she said and flopped back down on the couch to stare at the ceiling some more.

"What do you want for dinner?" he asked.

"I don't care."

"I was thinking take-out," he said. "Pizza or maybe that Centran place around the corner?"

"Centran's too spicy," she said. "I had pizza for lunch."

He hated it when she was like this. She loved Centran food, the spicier the better, and she would eat pizza every day if Squall let her. She was being contrary for the sake of being contrary, but as usual, he didn't know why.

"You do your homework?"

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"...yes."

"Lily."

"...no."

"Get up and get it done," he said.

When he'd agreed to take Lily in, she'd been a sweet but broken-hearted kid who had just lost her mother. In the last few months, she'd evolved into a depressed and angry kid, and Squall didn't know what to do about it. He knew nothing about being a parent, and he knew nothing about girls. He wondered if they were all this moody or if Lily was going through something that wasn't normal. Half the time, her attitude bordered on intolerable, and the other half, she was just sad.

He put in an order for pizza delivery and jumped in the shower. He tried not to think about how shaken his encounter with Mrs. Delacroix had left him, but it lingered. There was some connection between them, some history that eluded him. Though he'd found her exceptionally attractive, it wasn't as simple as all that.

Perhaps he was just lonely and had read more into a rich woman's game than there was. Perhaps it was code for something he'd only heard in passing and didn't understand.

But he was lonely. It was a fact. He had no patience or interest in dating, nor did he have time for it.

He could have had his pick of women if he wanted, but his inability to connect in the past had driven every last one of them away. He'd been accused of being cold, heartless and uninterested and incapable of being in a relationship.

The last part was true. He didn't have it in him to maintain one, and his former shrink constantly tried to get him to talk about his overwhelming fear of intimacy. Squall preferred to talk about other things, like the frequent nightmares that used wake him with a scream on his lips, always of events he couldn't remember when he was awake. And when the shrink pushed the issue, Squall talked about his crippling fear of chocobos instead, which was mostly a misdirect he used when he wanted to change the subject.

"You're avoiding again."

"I'm not avoiding."

"You're a 31 year old man whose last significant relationship ended almost ten years ago. I think it's important to discuss this."

"I don't," Squall said. "I'm raising my sister's kid and I work 70 hours a week. I don't have time for a relationship."

"That sounds like an excuse, Squall."

"It's not an excuse, it's reality."

Hyne, wasn't that the truth? But it wasn't the full truth. There was a part of him that longed to wake up next to someone he loved and trusted every day, but the very idea of it was also unbearable. They always left, so what was the point?

As he got out of the shower and dressed, there was a knock at the door.

"Lily! Can you get that?" he called. "Money's on the table!"

The knock came again and Squall yanked on a t-shirt and headed downstairs. In the living room, Lily was on the couch, headphones on and not doing her homework. Squall paid for the pizza and dumped it on the counter in the kitchen. He ate at the counter, standing up as Lily ignored his occasional call to come join him. Eventually, he gave up and ate in silence. Lily could eat or not eat. He wasn't going to debate it with her.

His phone rang and he answered, expecting Seifer, who ran the Deling City office, but it was Lily's school, and the news was not good. Lily had gotten into a fight with another girl and had pushed the girl hard enough that she'd fallen and had broken her arm. Squall glared into the living room where Lily was now watching him with big, worried brown eyes.

"Given the situation, we have to suspend her, Mr. Leonhart."

"I understand," Squall said. "I'll talk to her."

"If this behavior continues, we will have no choice but to expel her. We can't tolerate violence or bullying."

"I get it," he snapped. "I'll talk to her."

He hung up the phone and reached into the cabinet for the bottle of vodka he kept stashed away. He did not usually indulge during the week, but between the strange encounter with Mrs. Delacroix and Lily's suspension, he needed to take the edge off. He uncapped the bottle and took a long swallow, then leaned his palms against the counter as the vodka burned on the way down.

"Goddamn it," he muttered to himself.

"She hit me first," Lily said coming into the kitchen. "I was defending myself."

"Why would she hit you?"

"She picks on me. Her and her friends," she said. "They made fun of me because I'm an orphan. And I told her to shut up and she hit me. So I pushed her. I didn't mean to break her arm, I just wanted them to leave me alone."

"You're not an orphan," Squall said. "You've got me and Laguna."

"Ha! You're never around and Laguna doesn't know what to do with me."

"I don't know what to do with you either, Lil," he said. "But you can't get into fights at school. Now I'm going to have to figure out what to do with you until you can go back."

"I'll just hang out here," she said. "I can look after myself."

"Nope," he said. "Not happening."

"Oh, come on! I'll clean the house and do the laundry and stuff."

"No."

"You suck so much!" she cried. "I hate you."

Tears rolled down her face and Squall reached out to his arms around her.

"What's really going on with you, Lil?" he asked.

"You wouldn't understand," she said as she wrenched herself away from him.

Her feet pounded on the stairs, followed by loud footsteps in the upstairs hall. Her bedroom door slammed hard enough to rattle the dishes in the cabinet. Squall took another swallow of vodka and sat down at the table, head in hand.

He really wasn't cut out for this.


Laguna arrived at Rinoa's event on the arm of an ancient and cantankerous but very generous and wealthy woman by the name of Emelda Fonatine. The two had been longtime friends, and he'd agreed to come as her escort because no one else could stand her. Rinoa greeted him warmly and accepted his fatherly hug that was too tight and too enthusiastic, just as it had always been. The embrace was welcome, but it stirred up memories she was better off forgetting.

"You know, I was just talking about how long it had been since I last saw you," Rinoa said as she let him go.

"Serenity," he cried.

"You mean serendipity?"

"Exactly," he said. "I guess it was meant to be."

"I suppose so," she said. "I'm so glad to see you, Laguna. You look good."

"And you are stunning as always," he said.

They chatted for a while about Estharian politics, but eventually, the conversation turned more personal.

After she'd left Garden, she'd made a point to never ask Laguna about Squall for two reasons. One, she didn't want to know, and two, his relationship with Laguna had been strained at best. Any questions about Squall inevitably made Laguna melancholy and she didn't want to drive the knife in any deeper than it was. But it was Laguna who brought Squall up this time.

"I guess you heard Squall moved to Dollet a few months ago," Laguna said. "Has his own business."

So it was him. She'd recognized him right away. Even with his altered appearance there had been no doubt who he was. Whether he'd recognized her was still up for debate. He could have been hiding it, but he'd seemed more confused than anything. Rinoa almost mentioned that Squall was doing the security installation on her home, but if he didn't remember, perhaps she shouldn't be the one to remind him. It was a sure bet Laguna would bring it up, if they were in touch at all.

"That's great," she said. "What does he do?"

"It's a small, high tech security firm," Laguna said. "I helped him get started a couple years ago. He's got an office in Deling City and opened one here a few months ago."

"Tell him I'd love to see him if you get the chance," she said. "Maybe lunch some time?"

"Ahh..." Laguna began and shoved a hand deep into his pocket. "He doesn't remember much about that time in his life. I told him a long time ago using GF's was bad news, but he didn't listen."

"Oh," she said. Maybe he'd forgotten the way she'd left. If he had, it was for the best, even if it meant he didn't remember all the good things, either. "Besides that, how's he doing? Married? Kids? House in the suburbs?"

"He's never married, but he's got custody of Lily, Ellone's daughter," Laguna said. "I tried, but it was just too damned hard to balance everything, so Squall took her in. Can you believe Lily's nine already?"

"Where does the time go?" Rinoa said, sadly. "Last time I saw her in person, she was just a baby."

"...she looks just like her mother," Laguna said. He looked away, guilt written all over his face. "She's better off with Squall. She adores him, and he'll do right by her."

Laguna forced a smile that could only be described as sad.

"Are the two you friendlier these days?" Rinoa asked.

"I'm growing on him," Laguna said. "But he still thinks I'm a moron."

"I bet he doesn't," Rinoa said. Her fingers reached for the necklace she no longer wore. "...he really forgot everything?"

Laguna nodded. "Everything important."

Perhaps forgetting was the only way he could live with the things he'd done and seen during the course of two wars. Maybe it was the only way he could survive.

At least he'd gotten away from SeeD. The job had sucked the life out of him, and when she'd left he was too tired to fight. Trying to balance his time between Rinoa and Garden proved impossible. Balancing her time between her life in Balamb and the fight for Timber had proved financially impossible. In the end, she'd had to choose between love and her promise to the people of Timber.

And Squall had let her go. Just like that.

"At least he knows who you are," Rinoa said kindly. "That's important."

When her husband wheeled himself into the party, Rinoa excused herself to go greet him. He was dressed in a tux, and he'd decked out his wheelchair with little blinking lights. She laughed as he approached, and she crossed the distance between them to greet him with a smile.

Ian beamed a beautiful and charming smile when she found her way to his side. Crippled or damaged or not, her husband was a handsome and generous man with a sense of humor Rinoa could relate to. If their affection for one another wasn't passionate, it was at least genuine.

A car accident when Ian was twenty had left him paralyzed from the waist down and had mangled both legs beyond repair. She'd agreed to marry him five years ago, despite the fact that he could not give her children or love her in all the ways a husband was supposed to. He made up for it with kindness and a genuine fondness for her, and he lavished gifts upon her, even though she never asked for or needed a thing other than his friendship.

"There's my beautiful wife," he said.

She slipped into his lap to put her arms around him and kiss him sweetly on the lips. He returned her affection openly, chaste but sweet and adoring.

"You look lovely, darling," he said.

"Thank you," she said. "You look quite dashing yourself. The lights are fun."

"I thought the party might need a little more flash," he said. "Good way to shake off the boring."

"You should just leave them on all the time," she said. "Imagine the faces of all those stuffy guys on the board when you roll up in the next meeting twinkling like a disco ball."

Florian laughed and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Hyne, I missed you," he said. "You're the only one who appreciates the little things in life."

"There's always joy in the absurd," she swore.

"That's why I married you," he said. "To help me keep things interesting."

"That I can do," she said. "Take me for a spin? Buy a girl a drink?"

"I am your chariot," he said and wheeled them toward the bar. "How have things been?"

'Same old, different day," she said. "Security company did a walk-through with Gary today."

"Oh?" Ian murmured. "Did you speak to the technician?"

"Only briefly," she said. She did not want Florian to know she had history with the man who would come to know their home intimately over the next few weeks or however long it took to install. "I was in the middle of getting ready."

"Were you now?"

Rinoa slapped him lightly on the shoulder. She faked a smile, but the implication of infidelity, even if he was joking, offended her.

"I was dressed, thank you very much."

"You know, I said before-"

"I know what you said before," she said and placed a finger against his lips. "And I'm not going to discuss it. I'm happy with our arrangement, so let's leave it alone, okay?"

Florian's hand smoothed over her hair and his affectionate smile sent a shiver of guilt down her spine. She enjoyed his company she appreciated him for everything he was and everything he'd done, but she would never get to love him completely. It seemed so unfair to both of them.

"Why do you look so sad, Noni?" he asked.

"Not sad," she disagreed, "I missed you, too."

"Come with me next time," he suggested. "Go shopping in Esthar. Spend my money. Hyne knows, I can't spend it all myself."

"Maybe I will," she agreed. "Not spend your money, but go with you, just to get out for a while."

The truth was, she got lonely in this big, beautiful house. The wives of Florian's associates were no friends of hers, and the house staff refused to befriend her, so there was only the occasional visit from Zell, and those visits were brief and infrequent.

Florian had once told her he'd be fine with her taking a lover, so long as she didn't fall in love and leave him, but she'd refused that idea outright because it wasn't fair to him and it went against the vows she'd made when they'd married. The thought crossed her mind more and more these days as the lonely weeks and months left her craving what she could not have. She wished she could stop thinking about it. She would not be that wife, no matter what Florian said or how much freedom he gave her.

And she wished she could stop thinking about Squall, too. What she'd done to him. What he'd failed to do to keep her in his orbit. How badly things had ended.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Ian asked.

"Just fine," she promised.

It was a complete and total lie.