Lapse
Summary – Sometimes, we don't get to know everything. Post-game Squinoa. Written for the Successor Challenge.
Author's Note – I didn't have much time to write so I'd make it in time for Squall day so it's a tad short. Hopefully it makes sense all the same.
-—-
Sometime in between unceremoniously dropping his duffel bag on the couch and nearly tripping over Angelo two seconds later when she darted near his feet as he tried to make his way towards the kitchen, Squall thought he'd heard intermittent sobs from inside their bathroom. When he no longer heard anything after the dog had made an indignant yelp and he'd muttered some garbled curse words under his breath, it did not reassure him any.
Contrary to popular belief of many students and staff at Garden, Rinoa wasn't one to cry at the drop of a hat — at least when it didn't concern PSAs regarding shelter animals — though she did wear her heart on her sleeve. Displays of anger, indignation or elation were the usual suspects by far but in the rare instances where she was pushed to the point of tears, she'd let them fall.
Right now, his gut was falling in their stead as he ushered Angelo to their bedroom before closing the door behind her, daring to approach the bathroom shortly after. At the foot of the door, he still heard nothing. The short list of possible reasons shrank in his mind, frivolous annoyances effectively crossed out. He wanted to believe the darker machinations owed to returning from a two-week mission where his role as strategist was essentially to factor in worst case scenarios day in and day out or simply because he had not had time to decompress yet. But for all the stabs at rationalization he could make, he was very much aware that they would not quell his fears.
He needed to see her. For better or worse.
"…Rinoa, I-" The words he wanted to say felt too thick on his tongue - he settled on a neutral sentiment. "…I know you're in there."
She did not say anything, nor did he hear footsteps or even so much as a toilet flush. His stomach lurched while considering some quick mental math. Then it lurched some more for good measure when the door opened wide open a split second later.
Rinoa was floating by a mere inch off the ground at best, carried by frail-looking, semi-translucent wings a fraction of their normal size. Recalling how she'd explained how the protrusions worked and felt once upon a time when they'd both been tipsy enough for him to ask the question and for her to answer, he winced at the thought of her staving off the natural reaction to immediately touch ground and dissolve the wings as soon as possible. But he winced more at surmising what compelled her to hold on to this form for dear life with a single glance.
He extended his arms to express an offer of comfort only for her to gingerly set his hands back down to his sides, acting as if prolonged contact would have burned her.
"I-…don't." Her line of vision took a nose dive to the patch of floor to the side of his feet. "Kindness is too much. I deserve to be punished."
This was officially a worst-case scenario.
"You don't."
"…You don't even know what happened." Though said in a monotone, her voice gained the strength her gaze lacked.
"I don't need to when I can't even count how many times I've murdered for pay and you could still look me in the eye." Squall solemnly told her. "If you don't want to be touched right now, I understand. But please…let me help."
In the moments that followed, Squall watched her wings dissipate until they could no longer support her weight. Once her feet grazed the charcoal tiling, she immediately reached out for him as if she did not trust her knees not to buckle upon touchdown. While remaining mindful of the still-sprouted wings on her back, he drew her into a firm embrace without an iota of consideration devoted to the sizeable blood splatter on her aqua sun dress. It wasn't even a question when the acrid smell of gunpowder overpowered the coppery tang he had expected. Clothes could be replaced.
They stayed like this for several minutes until the last of the feathers molted, followed by an audible wince and shudder from Rinoa. Fearing that this was the precursor to her legs giving out, Squall pre-emptively adjusted his hold higher for more support; he nearly flinched along with her when his fingertips came across torn yet warm and saturated sections of fabric. Without a second thought, he uttered the incantations for a Curaga spell under his breath. A simple Cure would have probably done the trick but he didn't give a damn right now. She wasn't sharply exhaling anymore so that was all that mattered.
"I…don't even know what happened." she murmured into his skin when the pain had presumably subsided enough for cohesive thought a few moments later. "I can't even remember if there was some kind of gun click, threat or…anything that would justify Angel Wing triggering. There was just this huge lapse in my memory and next thing I knew I woke up to see that I…I left a married man in an alleyway to die."
"It doesn't change the fact that a gun was involved and you were unarmed." he found himself saying. "A ring on his finger makes no difference when it was his intent to hurt you. The consequence of his actions belongs to him alone."
"…I want to believe that acting in self-defence is enough to clear my conscience but…I just can't, Squall. Not when I actually killed someone when incapacitating them could have done the trick."
It took him a second to remember that the words from the second part of her response carried a heavier connotation than if it had come out of any of their friends' mouths. As he felt her start to quietly tremble within his arms and the words sink in some more, he became painfully-aware that what she needed right now was the Commander of Balamb Garden who had far too much firsthand experience in wearing copious amounts of other people's blood, not her loving boyfriend to tell her it was going to be alright because he couldn't say whether or not the words could ever become the truth.
"Focusing on what ifs will bring you nothing but pain and doubt." Rinoa unburied her head from his chest but the trembling did not stop. She said nothing but her widened, red-rimmed eyes told him everything as she stared at him like she was equal parts curious and taken aback. "Sometimes… the only way you can live with what happened is to accept that you can't know everything. It's easy to get hung up on the unknown but you need to quiet the urge to invent answers you won't receive. A man with a wedding ring isn't always a devoted husband and an attacker isn't always possible to disarm in a complicated high-stress situation – they're possibilities, not certainties. I won't pretend that this will take away the weight of taking a life but…it'll help you carry it."
Slowly but surely, the quivering stopped. But Squall saw no relief in her features.
"…Is that how Garden teaches you to carry the weight of what you do?"
"-No." He surprised himself by how fast the word came out of his mouth but the knee-jerk reaction held some truth. Squall took a moment to catch up and collect his thoughts. "Garden teaches cadets to forget about the weight. Tells us to trade memories for strength with GFs and depersonalize opponents by turning them into obstacles to forget they're people. Not to kill unless necessary or ordered to because leaving trails of bodies everywhere is not a good tactical or business strategy rather than out of a regard for human life or even the wellbeing of SeeDs. There's no reason to do anything else when it's far easier than the alternatives. Not when most students are orphans with nothing to fight for worth remembering or consequences to pay if part ourselves become lost in the process. I remember the weightlessness from back then and it's not something I want to teach."
"I understand. But…" The gleam in Rinoa's eyes grew glassier. "…I need to know something that's been bothering me the most before you say anything else. Is this the first time?"
Squall furrowed his brows. "…First time for what?"
"Is this truly the first time I've…been responsible for taking someone's life?"
"Yes."
The gleam finally spread to her cheeks as she let the tears fall. "I know it doesn't make things better but…"
"…You don't have to explain, Rinoa. I understand." he softly told her as he tightened his embrace, no longer preoccupied with the notion that he could hurt her now that the magic had sealed her cuts. "And I'll help you get through this."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
The drying blood on his hands was getting harder to ignore, however.
