Important Note: Everything up here is basically me rambling about random things so I suggest you skip this part and go right to the story.

Woot! finally another story! There's been a OMG we're so happy let's all pass our time by writing fanfiction for a website that up to a month ago we haven't even heard of phase going on with my friends right about now, and i have nothing to do so i just decided to join. So heres another story... only this time it's about vampires. If you a a total racist and are just totally biased about how all vampires should die cause they suck (kills you), then don't read this. But if your awesome and actually appreciate the finer things in life (cough vampire haters should go die cough), well then i think you should be ok.

My Disclaimer: I don't own Squall (though i wish i did) or Rinoa. I also don't own vampires, blood, dinning rooms, and hospital beds among various other things in my fanfic. In fact, I don't own anything except, my MP3, my sucky Windows 98 computer with, up to a month ago, 4.02 Gigs, and my flash drive... though now I think of it, I think I own myself too... and maybe my brother... OH SCREW THIS just read and comment and I hope you like it!

The dinning room's cold today, the young lady noted as she sat down, the solid gold necklace swinging around her neck. She shivered as she glanced around. The big mahogany table that could have easily seated twenty was, save her, empty. The table was lined with meats and an assortment of other delicacies, but there was no one else to savor them. She glanced at the meal unappealingly and, in one graceful movement, knocked the better part of the meal onto the floor. Making a face, she kicked a shattered plate that lay on the dark red carpet. She had no appetite for such foods. They were for mortals and not suited for a superior being like herself.

Glancing at the remainder of the feast set out before her, her eyes finally set on a bottle of rich, red wine on the far end of the table. She reached for it. It was her favorite beverage, rich and tinted with just the slightest hint of rose blossoms - and blood. She poured herself a glass, grimacing as the liquid tinkled into the crystalline glass . Maybe he'll come today, she thought as she lifted the drink to her blood red lips, it's been more than a year and, besides, he owes me.

She glanced over at the other end of the table, where another place had been set, and imagined him sitting across from her, his muscular body resting on the red velvet chair and his sharp gunblade gleaming under the pale candlelight. Her heart ached at the thought. It had been a year since he left, and though she knew in her heart he was gone forever, she still imagined that one day he would show up, his brown hair rustling in the faint breeze as he begged for her forgiveness.

She smiled at the thought of him bowing down to her. As if that would ever happen. He was much too cold for that. Licking her lips, she took another sip of wine, shuddering pleasantly as the warm liquid flowed down her throat and warming her body. It's the thunderstorms, she decided, that's why I'm so cold. She closed her eyes wearily. It had been a long day. She could feel herself drifting off to sleep and she didn't bother to stay awake. She was too tired and besides, now that he was gone, she didn't see the point of staying awake, subject to all the pain he had left her. No, she decided as her eyelids grew heavier, I want to just sleep forever...

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The nurse looked at the young man, her features carefully controlled. He was tall and handsome, looking to be about twenty years at most. He seemed shy and unsociable, but his features, from the scar on his face to the gunblade at his side, called for attention. When all was said and done, he seemed a responsible person, but she could take any chances. Smiling, she tried her best to hid the fatigue in her voice and shook her head politely. "I'm sorry, Mr. Leonhart," she said in a monotonous voice, only her eyes showing her carefully masked sympathy, "but she is still in critical condition. We simply cannot allow you to see her at this time. Maybe if you came back later..."

"No!" Squall Leonhart could barely control a bout of anger as he screamed, "I can't wait any longer!"

Then, noticing quite a few people were staring at him oddly, he lowered his voice.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice sounding hollow and empty, "It's just that I feel so guilty. It's my fault she's hear in the first place. I have to see her. I know if I do everything will be alright again."

Before the nurse could respond, he got to his knees.

"Please!" he pleaded, his eyes filled with unspeakable pain, "I promise I won't ask again. Just ten minutes!"

The nurse looked at him for a long time. He seemed sincere enough, though she wasn't sure that he believed the accident was all his fault. He had to realize that there were others that played a far more important role in causing the girls injuries. But the man was staring at her so pitifully, his eyes filled with so much guilt, that she had to consent. "Alright," she agreed at last, not sure that she made the right choice, "I might as well. The girl doesn't have long to live anyway."

She opened a side door and, after making sure that he was following, led him into a side passageway. The hospital was big and, though she knew the building like the palm of her hand, she still had trouble finding the right room. When they finally reached their destination, she stopped, a little out of breath. Squall looked at her expectantly and she nodded.

"Yes Mr. Leonhart, this is the right room."

"Can I go in?"

With a nod from the nurse, he opened the door tentatively, unsure of what he would find.

He was greeted with a ray of sunshine and a smell that reminded him of freshly cut daisies. Somehow this place didn't seem like it would have sick people in it.. Squall looked back uncertainly at the nurse, who motioned towards a bed at the corner of the room, where a single crumpled form lay motionless, her hair sprawled about her.

Squall approached the figure tentatively, as if unsure that it was the person he was seeking.

"Rinoa?" he called out uncertainly, stopping at the foot of the cot. He got no answer.

"Rinoa?" he called again, but this time the nurse replied for her.

"She can't answer you, Mr. Leonhart," the woman said from the doorway, her gaze filled with pity, "She in a coma-like state. I doubt she can even hear you."

Squall ignored her and called the name again. "Rinoa, can you hear me?" he asked, "Rinoa? Rinoa! I love you! Can't you hear me? Won't you speak?" He reached over and, dropping to his knees, shook her limp body as if force could bring her back to him.

The nurse sighed. This was what she was afraid of. Stepping into the room, she motioned for the young man to leave. When he ignored her, she grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip and pulled him outside.

"Mr. Leonhart," she said severely when they were back into the lobby, "you do NOT treat a patient like that. If you behave like this again I will have to cease your visits with Miss Heartilly. Now do you want that?"

Squall looked at her for a moment, his face twisted into an expression she had never seen before, then, as she watched with growing worry, he put his head into his arms and, unmindful to the curious observers around him, broke down and cried.

YES!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm finally done!!!!!!!!! Anyway plz comment, tell me you love my story, blah blah blah, and all that mumbo jumbo. (This goes for you, my dear palomino333 who STILL hasn't replied yet!!!)

I just had an awesome thought...Won't it be nice if Squall could be this worried about me! (though i highly doubt he would act anything like the way i described him... but hey, SCREW THAT!!!! It's a fanfic! now all i have to do is finish it... yesh darling readers, i still don't know how it ends...) Oh well... i can keep dreaming, can't i?