Wish Upon A Star
'…hereafter named (Party B) will assist (Party A) for the full duration
of occupation, until a treaty or substantial political agreement has
been signed. (Party B) requests that…' Squall's attention began to
waver from the report. How did Headmaster Cid ever find the patience to
write such confusing and altogether uninspiring contracts, reports and
letters? Speaking of contracts…
The phrasing heavily reminded him of an event in the not so distant past, when his team had been hired out to a small, struggling resistance group with illusions of grandeur. He had thought it such a frustrating task – had he reached SeeD, only to be faced with more of the same trivial jobs and situations? Of course, hindsight is a wonderful thing. Squall longed for the simplicity of that time. A time when his sole responsibility was that of Seed's orders, his employer's orders, his superior's orders…
Only now it was he who gave the orders. Upon his shoulders rested the fate of Garden and, if Squall was honest with himself, he was finding hard to cope. He'd never been one for the spotlight. A large, irritating clock chimed two. He rose from the leather office chair and turned to the back window, which loomed from floor to ceiling. The sea below the Garden was deceptively calm and dark in the autumn night. The waves rolled from even as far as the horizon, and Squall, in a rare flight of fancy, imagined he could see the moon's rays, pushing and pulling at the surface like a mother tidying a child's blanket.
The stars seemed unnaturally bright to Squall's strained, tired eyes. He blinked a few times to relax the muscles and looked back at the sky. He was just in time to see a shooting star, ripping briefly across the inky black.
Squall had never been a romanticist – the idea of love barely interested him. Perhaps it was through a spell that he remembered the crowds of dancers, the bouncing rhythm of the band, the dark brown eyes and cream-coloured dress 'You're going to like me, you're going to like me'…the star falling above the rooftops.
Perhaps not.
At any rate, that shooting star was a memory long past. Just as it had burnt up and died upon entering the reality of earth. So too, it seemed, had his shining memory. For that's all it was. A thing to bind you to the past. Shiva knows it had already died. Let it be forgotten, like a falling star once the wish has been made.
Squall turned back to the desk. He still had that contract for the new team assigned to the Timber Owls to draw up.
oOo
I hope you can tell what the hell is going on, only I was so tired myself, I was probably thinking as straight as Squall is here. Ah well. Please point out any inconsistancies and whatnot. It was written in like 15 minutes so there's bound to be.
It was written for a friend who gave me a challenge to write about shooting stars and Final Fantasy 8. This is my first attempt at the fandom >.>
In case you don't get it…Squall still leads Garden and Rinoa left Squall to go back to the resistance movement. The Timber Owls have requested more SeeD support for their cause because we all know they suck on their own. ;p