A/N: Hey there! Pink Moogle here. So here's the thing: I noticed AU fan fictions (at least for FFVIII) tend to produce more fans than just stories based off the game. So, I decided I should take a crack at writing one. My first idea was, of course, a school setting, since FFVIII just beckons that, but after seeing the incredible film Across the Universe, I reconsidered.
So this is it in a nut shell: The characters of Final Fantasy VIII are set in a 60s-like time period (not technology wise, though) in reference to the world that they live in. It's just their world influenced by common themes of the 60's: Free-love, peace, rebellion, war, "hippies", change, etc.
Yet alas, I am of a mere fifteen years of age, so I've never seen the 60's my self. This story was inspired by Across the Universe, which was inspired by the Beatles, and they were inspired by the 60's (and a series of good drugs, of course!). So transitively, I'm writing about a time period I lived through. :D
Disclaimer: Someday I will own Final Fantasy VIII and any of its characters, and I'm telling you, SquareEnix, you will rue that day. Unfortunately, right now I do not own it, and so, I must stick a disclaimer in here. D:
Also, some titles (including the title "All you need is Love"), names of OCs, dialogue, etc are in reference to the Beatles's music and/or the movie Across the Universe. Don't worry-- even if you have never heard a Beatles song (WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?) or seen Across the Universe (YOU SHOULD.), you'll still pretty much get it.
--------
All you need is Love
-chapter 1 : Black Bird Fly-
--------
HER HAND was firmly gripping the drop knob; frozen, not from insecurity, though. Her father had wakened, and his watchful gaze could halt a bus, nonetheless a hand. He wanted her to turn around and call him "father" again, she was sure, but she was determined to do neither. But he had caught her leaving; for that she at least owed it to him to listen.
"Rinoa?" He said in a strict, near interrogating tone. "What do you think you are doing?"
She was going to answer, but instead, she bit her lip. Silence remained. The job was his to break it.
Her father scrutinized the large duffle bag slung over her shoulder. "Are you leaving?"
What a stupid question, she thought. No, I'm standing in front of the door with all my possessions because I'm sleeping outside. Uh duh, I'm leaving.
"You know very well you can't."
His daughter gritted her teeth. The rebellious fire burning within her flared up in recoil. She could never accept being told what she could or could not do.
"You mean, I may not," Rinoa pointed out in a condescending fashion, still facing the door. "I do not have your permission, but I have the ability to. So, I can."
With her delicate, pale fingers massaging the cold metal handle, she paused. She heard her father shift; maybe he was going to say something. It did not matter. She would not give him that courtesy.
"--And I will."
Turning the knob and pushing wood simultaneously, the door flung open into the frigid midnight air. Before she could follow it, though, she felt her father grab her shoulder. It was not a particularly threatening grip. It was just tough enough to stop her for a moment without doing any harm. It was the hold of a father, or rather, a man attempting to be one.
"Rinoa, you have no where to go." He stated in near desperation; she was eighteen as of this day. She could go if she wished. "It's dangerous out there. I don't want to lose my only child. There is a war going on—"
"Yeah, well, whose fault is that!" She irrupted, finally starring at her father straight in his oh-so very guilty face. Rinoa fiercely grabbed his hand and yanked it off her shoulder with the full force of her peaceful passion. It fell limply to his side. There was nothing the general could do.
Satisfied, she took her first few steps of freedom from her father's fascist grasp. No longer would she be associated with a man who was supporting such violence; the man who single handedly gave the order to have Galbadian soldiers invade Esthar. They were helping with the civil war, he said. Yeah, right.
Behind her, the snow crunched, but she defiantly continued to walk further and further away from her father's Windhill mansion. He called after her:
"Rinoa, where are you going?"
No answer.
"Can't we talk about this?"
No answer.
"What are you going to do? You'll never survive out there alone."
Still trotting along, she actually spoke back this time, mostly in annoyance of his shameless cries.
"I'll get by with a little help from my friends." Rinoa snapped.
A few more feet; the calls halted. Yards away; the door slammed. He had given up on her, she believed, and pride now laced Rinoa's steps. With every single one of them, she was closer to returning to Deling, and becoming like people who drove her and her father out of that city.
That was, of course, the Radicals. Sure, they had put both her and her father in danger after the war began, but she had aspired to be them since she was sixteen: So strong, so rebellious, so… Well, radical. Besides, it wasn't the faction's fault that they had pushed them to hiding—it was the general's fault for starting this pointless war. Or at least, that was what Rinoa believed.
So many years she had waited for just this one moment, brief fading second, of freedom. In the coming days, she would spread her wings that had been long broken by her damn father's war-ful fist, and fly far, far away, back to the major city she once called home.
Rinoa reached the main road of the backwards hick-town that she loathed so much. Maybe three cars went through everyday, so hitch-hiking to Deling was not going to be easy, or, at the least, quick. Once she would get there, one way or another, she would get by with a little help from her friends. They suggested she flee when the general first decided to go escape the "big city of rebels", and when she was finally going to do it, they offered to put her up. That is, as long as she would join the movement.
Rinoa sighed and sat on the top rung of a sturdy timber fence. "Once I get there…" She whispered to herself, emitting gray frozen breath from her throat in the process, "Everything will change. I'll help change the world. I know it… I know it…"
--------
Within the first few minutes of March 3rd, somewhere, not far away, a salt-and-pepper-haired man stood at a window, his sad eyes losing the only other important woman of his life into the light of the dark black night. There, he could not close her into his walls. She thought he did it to trap her, but Caraway knew otherwise: He did it solely to protect her, but wound up smothering and chasing her away in the process.
He cringed at the thought of losing her. A strong man he was, but she was the face of his deceased wife, and also, a promise to her. Some how, some way, he needed to watch over his precious daughter; he owed it not to himself, or even to Rinoa, but he owed it to his spouse, and for that, he would do anything.
--------
To her surprise, a pair of headlights appeared in the distance a lot sooner then expected. She pushed back her long sleeves and inspected her watch.
"One a.m.? Since when…? Oh well, don't argue…" Although a bit shocked, Rinoa stood and stuck her thumb out. The car was moving incredibly slowly, which Rinoa presumed was the driver's concern for the time. As it approached, there was little she could tell with no street lights; only that it was a gray car with headlights, and an awfully foggy windshield. There was something particularly peculiar about this dull gray vehicle, though, that she noticed when it pulled over a few feet from her: No plates.
Despite her better judgment, Rinoa opened the back door and threw in her bag, and followed suit by sliding in her body. After slamming the heavy car door shut, she greeted her kind chauffeur.
"Hey there." She said as the person began to continue down the road. "I'm Rinoa. Kind of late to be driving around this ghost town, isn't it?"
No answer. Instead, the stranger brushed off her question by answering it with another one, in his apparently extremely male voice. "Where are you headed?"
Rinoa was a bit taken aback by his monotone, but unlike him, she actually countered inquiries she was asked. "Deling City."
Only a slight grunt was murmured in response, which Rinoa translated as "I'm heading in that direction".
"So…" The young woman shifted uncomfortably in the quiet. "…What's your name?"
The car sped up when they finally exited Windhill and reached the barren Galbadian country-side. They were a long way from Deling, and if discussion kept being so utterly dry, it would probably be the most tedious hours of her life. It seemed like the man was thinking about his reply, either that or he was just going to not give one once more.
"Skelter." He finally confessed.
"Skelter?" Rinoa blinked. "That's a weird name."
She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Skelter whisper the words 'You have no idea.'
Hush resumed. It seemed as though conversation with Skelter was like playing ping-pong with someone who was horrible at it: It was pointless, since the ball word inevitably never go back and forth, which in such a game, it should; it would go flying off the table, or into some bodies head or hit the net or something, but never really would be played in such a case.
…But Ping-pong, nevertheless, was fun.
"Going to Deling, huh?"
"Yeah." He sounded as though he was growing impatient with her already.
Rinoa was determined to keep the thread alive. "I'm going to fight for the cause—Why are you going?"
She expected for him to dodge those last few words, but he did not.
Skelter was quite obviously fed up with her talkativeness. "Same, I guess."
She was flabbergasted. A boring guy like this, a radical? "Really?"
She saw a pair of shoulders shrug. "Everyone has a cause." Must he be so vague? Rinoa mused.
"Well yeah but…" She tried to look for better words, but ended up putting it bluntly. "What's your cause?"
"To have a cause." His tone led her to believe he said it in hopes she would shut-up.
Rinoa smirked, but retained her laughter. This guy was damn good at evading questions. Dubbing it a lost cause, Rinoa decided to make another statement.
"Today is my birthday." It was all she could think to say, as she absently looked out the window, watching the endlessly bare landscape fly by. She decided Skelter was at least a tad more interesting than that, and looked forward into his rear view mirror.
"Really?" He did not sound the least bit interested, but his actions said other wise, as he looked into his mirror also, and matched eyes with his passenger momentarily before looking away. She couldn't help but notice that his eyes were an enchanting shade of blue and gray, and somewhat reminiscent to a kaleidoscope. "Happy birthday, then." He nearly mumbled it.
Jeez, could you be a little less enthusiastic? "Yeah. I'm eighteen today." As she predicted, he did not retort with his age, and instead, the conversation died off once more. At long last, she decided to resign from her effort.
Quite awhile passed, and Rinoa possibly drifted off, but was wakened with shock when boring ol' Skelter actually said something without being prompted first.
"I'm sure you have been told this before but…" Rinoa spotted him starring at her through his rear view yet again. "…You look a lot like Julia Heartilly." Spoken in a dull fashion once more, unfortunately.
"Yeah, well, aren't daughters supposed to resemble their mothers?" This time, he was the one stunned, which subsequently stunned her. She caught sight of his eyebrow slightly higher than normal in his mirror. "Why, are you a fan?"
"…You could say that." And there he went, back to vague and lackluster. Another lengthy pause later, Skelter said something else: "That would make you the general's daughter, correct?" This time, he did in fact sound slightly interested, but Rinoa failed to notice.
It irritated her to no end that whenever she revealed her background, people immediately related her to that despicable man. "Yeah, just don't hate me for it, ok? Just because he started this damn war doesn't mean I support it."
"…Whatever." Many minutes passed without anything further.
Rinoa jumped when he actually completed his thought. "A father's accomplishments should never reflect on the accomplishments on a child to the point it over shadows." Her jaw dropped. He actually broke his monotone and said something…Deep?
"I totally agree!" She wanted to jump up of her seat in passionate sharing of the thought. Maybe there is something more to this guy… "You write that yourself Skelter?"
"…"
And with that, she lost him again, and her smile, invisible in the darkness of the car, faded back into her cheeks.
After that, she could recall asking, or commenting upon, some superficial things, such as the weather in Windhill. To this, Skelter rarely responded. At some point, she looked out the window for a while, and must've dozed off, since sometime later, a bump in the road found her drooling on the upholstery of Skelter's car.
Rinoa drowsily wiped her eyes, and let Skelter know she was awake by emitting a loud, obnoxiously fake yawn. She was aware he probably didn't even notice she was asleep, though.
Not desiring to be found in that position when they did arrive, Rinoa started up a conversation again to pass the time.
"So Skelter…" She stretched as she said this, "What do you, you know… do?
He didn't answer.
Desperate for interaction? "Common, I'm bored, lie to me if you have to…" Yes, yes she was. "What's your job or whatever?"
Skelter said nothing.
"If you're that uncomfortable saying what it is, at least tell me what you do."
"Get out of the car."
Was he just going to leave her out there in the middle of nowhere? "Wait…What? …What did I say?"
He shook his head, and she realized that she could she that. Streetlights? "No, we're in Deling now. Can you find your way from the parking garage?"
Has it really been that long? In the same way she did previously, Rinoa checked her watch again to find it read 4:18 am. Huh, maybe I fell asleep longer than I realized…
Rinoa giggled and bushed slightly. "Ha… I can't believe I didn't realize. Sorry about that. But yeah, I can." Reaching over, Rinoa grabbed the door handle. She jiggled, and tugged at it. Pulled, pushed, fought, gnawed, and played with it. She did everything short of kicking the door, which she would have done, that is, if Skelter hadn't said anything.
"Is there a problem?"
"Yeah, kinda…" She said with a laugh, "Your door won't open, Skelter."
"Wait, what…? Why wouldn't it…" Apparently, the baffling Skelter had a revelation and snapped his fingers in response to this. "Sorry, I left the child lock on."
As Skelter opened the door adjacent to the driver's seat, Rinoa perplexed on why the hell he would have the child lock on, and wondered if he had kids. It was at that moment she realized she had yet to see her driver's face. Guess I will now…
Skelter approached the door, and opened it while Rinoa gathered her coat and bags, but when she turned to go out, she immediately regretted doing so. For at the sight of Skelter, she dropped it all in reflex of awe.