It might be the end of the world, or it might just be that he's been fighting for so long that time has lost its meaning.
That's happened before, anyway, under a darker sky and against grey earth. Realistically, he knows this isn't the end, at least, not of time. He squints as he looks up at the sky and still has just enough humanity to marvel at its blueness.
They are in a field of flowers, hidden from sight behind a ruin of old stones, the remnants of what, Squall couldn't say. He knows they were followed, and waiting for him on the other side of the ruin are five SeeDs, armed, waiting for a reason to move. Rinoa whimpers, and struggles against the thin links around her wrists, her ankles. Slight chains, as small and delicate as she looks, and just as powerful. Squall's hands are already blistered from the contact when he broke them from the walls of the Garden brig, a deep welt on the back of his neck where one of the chains pressed against him as he carried her out.
"Soon," he whispers. She's sweating and her eyes are dancing wildly and he puts his hands against her face, stares until she meets his gaze and her eyes finally stop, the ghost of recognition fighting past the madness. He kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips, and finds her somewhere in the kiss, and stops only when she brings a hand around his neck and the chain burns and he pulls back. "I'm sorry," he tells her, and kisses the top of her head.
She looks pathetic, he thinks, and hopes she will forgive him. He finds it hard to believe a good chunk of the world was burned to the ground as old allies, old friends, hunted her down. That most of what they didn't touch was destroyed by her, whether she meant to or not, and he allowed it as he chased her down and swore he could bring her back.
"Squall," she whispers. Her voice is thin and stretched, and she looks like she might cry.
He tears off part of his shirt and wraps it around his hand, and clenches his jaw as he grabs hold of one of her ankle restraints. Even through the fabric it burns, but the pain stops the second he turns the key and the metal slides away from her skin. He drops it onto the ground without ceremony, and the other quickly follows. Something in her eyes burns slightly brighter, and he moves one hand back to her face, pressing the other against her back.
"Rinoa." His voice sounds stronger than it has in months, and he's sure of his decision. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."
He releases her, and pulls a small blade out of a sheath on his belt. It gleams in the sunlight, new, virgin. Lionheart has shed enough blood, and he won't tarnish her with it.
"It's going to be over soon," he tells her, and releases the chain on her right wrist. She twitches violently, and he pins her against him with one arm, the dagger pressed flat between them. "Look at me."
She does. Her eyes are beautiful, deep, full of love and passion and dreams, and sorrow. She smiles, and closes them, and whispers, "you promised."
"I promise," he replies, and turns the blade, and shoves it hard into her chest.
She gasps, and Squall turns the key in the final chain, and her wings billow behind her even as the blood pours between them. She fights, and he holds her, and slowly counts down from ten.
He is only at three when the SeeDs are on them. He looks up and makes sure they can see into his eyes, and keeps them open and waits for them to fire