Loving You
By Quistis88 and Quis
Chapter One
Phantasm
Rinoa stared up at the empty sky, so void of stars, and clouds. Not even the moon shone on that night. Silently, she let the tears slide down her cheeks. She missed him more than words could express.
Sighing from the loneliness, she tried her best to think of what she would say to him when he got back, and how she would. Even though they were very close, none of them had ever uttered . . . those words. Rinoa felt that perhaps she should've gathered the courage to tell him before he left.
Even though the seasons had come and gone, Rinoa still believed--still held hope, that he would return. The winter had been a long one for her, each day she woke up alone in her bed, wishing for Squall to be with her. Tears, still trickling down her face, she returned to the room. Sadness lingered there, like a permanent dampness. It'd been two months since she'd seen him, shared a meal with him.
She remembered, how they would sit and talk on his soft bed (well, she was anyway, and he spoke whenever he felt the need to), and even chatted for so long that they watched the sun rise together over Fisherman's Horizon from the window. That was a memory she'd keep forever.
Why did she treat such things like distant memories? She was going to see him again . . . wasn't she?
Ever since the day he'd gone on that mission, promising to write, she'd been alone. Sure she had friends in Garden, but they were only nice to her out of fear of their Commander's disapproval. Sitting down on the bed she often inhabited, she let out a strangled sob, burying her head in the pillows, feeling more and more miserable as the days passed.
She had wanted to go with him, even if she heard Zell say that it was dangerous. But danger was nothing new to her anymore --- Squall should know that. But she had refrained from asking him to take her along simply because she knew that he would not let her, insisting that she "stayed here at Garden where it's safe". Rinoa knew that he would've said it out of affection, but still . . . she would give anything just to be with him, even for a second
"I wish," Rinoa whispered into her pillow, "That Squall was here"....
An ethereal glow appeared beside her hand, slightly wet from her attempts to dry her own tears. The glow soon turned into a round ball of light and after the light faded, Rinoa saw a miniature lady in a robe with a wand in one hand. Rinoa gasped.
The being seemed to have a benevolent aura around her, which somewhat comforted the sobbing girl. Placing a gentle hand on Rinoa's shoulder, she smiled at Rinoa. "You called for me, dear," she said kindly, in a voice that Rinoa thought sounded oddly like her mother, Julia's--may Hyne rest her soul.
"Who are you?" Rinoa asked.
"Your fairy godmother, my child." Her voice was gentle. "I heard your summon."
"B-but I didn't do anything . . . "
"That wish from your heart was enough, although, yours is one of the saddest I've seen in a long while. At the moment anyway."
Rinoa was silent. Then, speaking as though she'd never uttered any words before in her life, she said softly, "All I want is for Squall to return." Tears were trickling down Rinoa's face once more as she looked up at the painting of Squall and her, the kindly old woman smiled at Rinoa. Never removing her gentle hand from Rinoa's shoulder, the godmother began to sing softly to the girl.
Rinoa's lips turned into a smile and listened to the song, hoping that everything would turn out fine and Squall would be here in an instant. But when the singing stopped abruptly, the smile disappeared.
"I'm sorry, my child, but . . . he doesn't want to seem to come back. And I can't bring him back unless he wants to."
Rinoa wanted to cry again. Didn't Squall want to come home to her? But she knew right then, that Squall only wanted to protect her, first and foremost, and to protect her, he'd need a world, and right now, he was off doing just that.
She knew, in her heart of hearts, that Squall would return eventually. They still had that dream--didn't they? Of going to the Orphanage grove, where the flowers grew in abundance, of watching shooting stars. Rinoa grasped her necklace, fingering the lion ring--Griever, for comfort and strength. "I just hope he returns," she whispered, as the old woman vanished from sight.
At least her Fairy Godmother gave her a strand of hope --- that Squall was still alive. He had to have been well in order to think of not returning just yet, right? But she shouldn't think that way. Squall was alive and well, wasn't he? Yes, he must be . . .
Her eyes closed, and she passed into a dream. It wasn't a nice dream, however. In her dream, she could see carnage; blood, guts, gangrene, and all other matters of nasty stuff that war breeds. Her hands, soaked the colour of the dusty red soil plains, for miles, she could see the endless slew of bodies, piled up around her. A cry rose in her throat at the sight, but died before it reached her lips.
Waking and allowing the cold sweat on her forehead to make their way to her covers, she shook uncontrollably, and soon, tears joined the drops of sweat, soaking the material.
Squall . . . where are you . . . ?
Her eyes travelled to the clock on the wall. It was only one in the morning....Plenty of time left for sleeping. But the dream had stirred anxiety within her. Somehow, she felt as though, in this horrible dream, was some strand of truth. A short bark of laughter escaped her lips. This is crazy...It was just a dream, wasn't it? she thought, as the thought of the dream being a reality seemed absurd.
It wasn't like her to get vivid dreams like this, and she knew it. Tossing and turning in her bed, trying to snatch the elusive sleep again, she finally gave up at about two am. Rushing to the desk, where she kept her correspondence, she opened the last letter he had sent her since he'd been away. It was dated two months earlier.
"My darling,
Although I can't say anything about this mission, know that I am missing you more than words can ever hope to express. Words seem futile when I try and tell you just how much you mean to me. I can only say that I think of you all the time, and that in my dreams, I go there...where we promised.
Yours eternally,
Squall"
Rinoa cried again. She had been crying so much lately, but --- Hyne help her --- she was pained by this torment. But Squall would want her to be strong . . . just like him. Oh, how she missed his embraces and stolen kisses under the stars. Oh, how she missed his quiet voice. Oh, how she missed loving him up close.
Silently, she prayed to Hyne. Hoping that the kindly goddess would take pity on her and the plight she faced. It suddenly struck her that perhaps she could ring Laguna, he'd understand--or so she hoped. Getting out of bed once more, she turned on the little lamp that stood beside the phone table. Dialing the number for the residence of the Palace, she heard the phone ring.
"Good evening, you've reached the Esthar Presidential Palace," the receptionist answered. "How may we be of assistance?"
"Could I please speak to President Loire?"
"I'm afraid he's asleep at the moment. May I take a message?"
"This is urgent. Please. I didn't want to wake him up, but . . . he'll understand." I hope he will.
The receptionist wasn't sure who it was, but if she thought the girl was really in need of a chat with Mr President, then she would do all she could to wake him up. Pattering down the hallway, she opened the door to Laguna's room. "Mr President, sir...There's an urgent phone call from Balamb Garden," she said, as Laguna sat up in bed--rather, he bolted upright.
I sure hope it's not about Squall . . . he thought as he pulled his covers away and reached for the extension in his room. As long as he's not in trouble, I'm happy.
"Hello, Laguna Loire speaking."
"Oh, goodness. I'm so sorry to bother you at this hour."
He recognized the voice. It belonged to Rinoa. "Rinoa, is something wrong?"
Rinoa faltered. She felt foolish about having rung Laguna at 2am to talk to him. "I--I had a bad dream," she finally squeaked out, "It was horrible...really horrible," she said quietly.
Laguna was no psychologist, although he had to admit that he was a psycho from time to time. That was close enough, wasn't it? "Do you want to, uh . . . tell me about your dream?"
Rinoa explained to him while he listened, hearing her sniffs and sobs on the other end of the phone. He, too, was slightly disturbed by the details of the dream.
After a few more words, both of them hung up. Laguna, however, could not sleep and began pacing his room, then, seized by a sudden madness, rushed into the library. Hadn't he heard something once about the powers of dreams and sorceresses? That when a sorceress dreamed about an event, it would often be played out. Grimly, Laguna hoped that the legend of Da'Vasha would not be played out again.
Quickly scanning his available resources on the library computer (Kiros had taken two months to teach him how to do it), he leaped from his chair and came to rest right in front of the book. He had found what he wanted to find . . . but he did not see what he wanted to see.
What he saw on his screen scared him. It was the exact same scene Rinoa had described in her dream.