NOTICE: Final Fantasy VIII and all characters, locations, and concepts therein are copyright © 1998 by Square. The aforementioned Square has absolutely no idea this author exists, and has in no way authorized the creation of this story or its contents. Absolutely no revenue is made from the creation or exhibition of this story by the author, and if any revenue is made through its exhibition by others, this author has no knowledge and earns no profit from said revenue. Any such practice, or any duplication of this work without the author's knowledge or consent, will seriously annoy him. This text applies whether you read it or not. All your base are belong to us.
- — //= IN MEMORY =\\ — -
a FINAL FANTASY VIII fan fiction
by
a Rug Central production
The announcer cleared his throat, scanning over the assembled dignitaries and checking to make sure that the TV crew was ready and recording. Ladies and gentlemen, he said, once confirming that he was in fact on the air. Please stand for the national anthem of the Timber Federation.
For the first time that day, the words Timber Federation did not prompt a burst of uproarious applause. Instead, the room remained respectfully silent, save for the band on-stage, which played out a combination of notes that had not been heard in public for twenty-four years. However, this did not prevent nearly every Timber dignitary from bursting into hearty song, reciting the words from perfect memory.
As he did not know the words to the Timber anthem, Squall simply stood in respectful silence. Though he did not turn his head to look at them, he could hear the voices of both Cid and Edea joining in beside him; he even spotted President Caraway of Galbadia joining in. Watching the scene, it seemed he could literally feel the excitement in the room, as the reality of Timber's independence sank in.
When the anthem ended, the room burst into applause once again; Squall noticed that some of the older delegates had even been moved to tears. I guess I can understand how they feel, he thought. Timber's been occupied for longer than I've been alive; it must be an incredible feeling for them to suddenly have their freedom again.
As the band moved on to a slightly less profound musical piece, the gathering began to dissolve into a formal reception. Cid and Edea were quickly engaged in a conversation with President Caraway and the new Prime Minister of Timber, and Squall was left to wander around aimlessly, applying all his social training to appear at ease in the gathering when all he really wanted was to get back to Garden and back to work. In the interests of diplomacy and international relations, however, he did his best to appear as cordial as possible.
He sighed as he inadvertently caught the eye of a dark-haired woman from the Timber delegation, and she began to make her way over to talk to him. Diplomats were the worst conversationalists, especially the young ones—they were still naive enough to think that all the empty pleasantries actually meant something.
she said, smiling. Thank you for all the work that you and Garden put into these talks. I know we couldn't have done it without you.
Squall imitated a friendly smile in return. The words were rehearsed, but the look in her eyes indicated that she actually meant them as well. It was our pleasure, he replied. Miss Heartilly, isn't it?
She broke into an amused grin. Please, call me Rinoa. I can't ever get used to everyone using my last name.
Squall's eyebrow twitched. That was unscripted.
You're being appointed as the ambassador to Dollet, aren't you? he asked.
The original warm smile returned to her face. Well, it's not official yet. And I don't like to get excited about things that haven't happened yet. After all, no one can predict the future.
Squall nodded; but something gave him pause. He wasn't sure what it was, but suddenly this woman seemed...familiar.
Well, the work you put into the talks was very impressive, he said. Without you, there might not be a Timber Federation. I can't see how they could choose anyone else.
And he noticed something strange about himself. He normally tried to say as little as possible when diplomats were involved; that way they would be more likely to go away quickly. Why he was being so conversational with this woman, he had no idea.
That's very sweet of you to say, she replied warmly. Then, she seemed to catch sight of someone off behind him. Oh! I should pay my respects to your Headmaster. She extended her hand. I suppose I'll see you around, Commander.
As he took her hand, Squall once again felt a wave of déjà vu that left him slightly off-balance. Of course, he managed; and she headed off to join the group that Cid was speaking with. Squall went off to find other dignitaries to congratulate, but he found himself so preoccupied that he was unable even to feign an interest in the senseless babble of the various delegates. He muddled his way through the rest of the reception, and excused himself as quickly as was diplomatically possible. He didn't attempt to approach Rinoa again, but he left still unable to get her out of his mind. There was something dancing just at the edge of his awareness, but he couldn't quite tell what it was.
Unconsciously, Squall's hand drifted up to his forehead as he took a seat in the intra-city tram. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so frustrated; and it didn't help that his frustration stemmed from a failure of memory to begin with.
- — = = = = — -
He was seated at his desk, bent over a stack of documents that had sprung up to augment the computer terminal in his apartment room, when Quistis arrived that evening. He heard the door open and close, but didn't spare a moment to look over his shoulder and see who had entered, as he assumed he knew the answer anyway. Rather, he glanced between two sheets of paper which he had retrieved from the Galbadian Judicial Archives, and tapped another note into the terminal. Grand jury indictment 2078, 2079. Various counts of sedition; alleged membership in insurgent group called the Forest Owls'.
The Forest Owls
He heard a familiar sigh behind him; and he could readily picture Quistis standing with her hands on her hips, peering at him over her glasses with an expression both exasperated and amused. You forgot about the dinner, didn't you? she asked.
That did cause Squall to turn around. Dinner? What time is it? He glanced at the clock on the headboard. 21:43.
Quistis gave him a disapproving look. Squall, if you're going to miss a state dinner where you're a guest of honor, you're going to have to do a little better than that.
Squall was at a loss for words. I guess this is affecting me more than I'd realized, he thought, glancing at the mess that had become of his desk.
Quistis was also examining the clutter that had sprung up during her absence that afternoon. she asked. Are you going to tell me what's so important that you'd risk an international incident rather than abandon? She was amused again. Trust Quistis to find humor at a time like this.
I didn't cause too much trouble, did I? he asked. Quistis would probably be madder if there had been any real problems, but still it had been a long time since he had acted this irresponsibly, and Squall really wasn't happy about it.
Quistis smiled. Don't worry, Squall. It was touch-and-go for a bit, but ultimately, Cid and the others were able to carry things without your charming presence.
Squall reflexively glared at her and turned away. It took him another second to realize that her flippant remark meant that at least she wasn't mad at him.
But honestly, Quistis continued, dropping onto the bed and beginning to loosen the tie on her SeeD uniform. What were you doing in here all afternoon?
Squall shook his head. It's nothing important.
He'd looked away, but still he could feel Quistis' piercing gaze. Squall, you forgot about a state dinner. Obviously, it's important.
You'd think so, Squall thought. But if it is, I don't know why any more than you do. ...I just lost track of time, that's all.
Oh, for god's sake, Squall. Are you going to make me come over there and see for myself?
Squall sighed. Her persistence was usually an admirable trait, but it became damned annoying when she directed it at him. You know Rinoa Heartilly?
I think I've met her once or twice. Why?
I'm not sure. Squall glanced at the mess on his desk, as if some piece of the puzzle would obligingly choose this moment to jump up from the pages and provide him with an answer to give. I ran into her at the reception this afternoon, andI don't know how to describe it. I had a feeling; like I knew her from somewhere, except it was more than just that. He shook his head. It still doesn't make much sense even to me.
Quistis arched an eyebrow. What have you found?
She was in the Timber resistance for a while, he said, handing her the grand jury report. A group called the Forest Owls. I think they have something to do with it, but I'm not sure what.
Quistis began, taking on the tone she would use with a misbehaving student. Are you sure this isn't just all in your mind?
Of course, he said, mildly annoyed. Every now and then, she would start treating him as if he were still her student.
Student.
Dance.
Rinoa.
Quistis had been his instructor at Garden during his last year as a SeeD cadet and had lost her license the day of the exam so she'd had him join her in the Secret Area after the graduation party at which a dark-haired girl had approached him and dragged him onto the dance floor before running off just as quickly to talk to Cid and hire SeeDs to go to Timber had help the Forest Owls which is how he had met her again the very next day—
Rinoa.
The memories flooded back to him; the campaign against Ultimecia and his relationship with Rinoa all burst into his head almost too fast for him to process. He shook his head, trying to control the torrent of memories; and glanced at Quistis. He thought that it was odd that her hair was not secured tightly behind her head, and that it was probably too short to be suited for such a style in any case. Then he realized that she had not worn her hair that way in years.
I remember, he said.
She simply looked at him for a moment, seeming unsure how to respond. Squall lowered himself back into the chair by his desk, not quite trusting him to remain standing properly.
Six years ago, he continued, playing through the memories and attempting to organize them into thoughts. I met her at the graduation party after I became a SeeD. Then for my first mission, I was assigned to help the Forest Owls liberate Timber from —
He paused. Quistis now bore a very distant expression, and Squall thought there was an almost pained look in her eyes.
After a moment, she simply shook her head, offering him a weak smile that tried—and miserably failed—to convince him that everything was all right. It's late, and we've got another day of receptions to look forward to tomorrow. She attempted to replicate the slightly flippant tone she had taken with him earlier. You, especially, are going to have some grand apologies to make. So why don't we put all this aside for the night and go to bed. If it's waited six years, I'm sure another half a day won't make much difference.
Squall frowned at her; but after a moment he nodded, switching off the computer and rising from the chair. All right, he said. I'll take care of this tomorrow.
Take care of this? he thought as he changed out of his uniform and into his night clothes. Just what is it I plan to do? For all the memories he had discovered, a whole array of new ones had erupted. He could remember meeting Rinoa, and falling in love with her, but he had no idea how or why the relationship had ended.
Or why he was climbing into bed with Instructor Trepe.
He lay awake for long hours that night, thoughts running circuits through his head in a mad attempt to find some connection, some clue locked away in his memory, something to right the life that had just been turned upside down.