HISTORY NEVER REPEATS

A FFVIII Second Generation Tale

" The thirteenth Apostle is knocking at my door, telling me that I can't play with you no more. I guess the wages of sin couldn't buy my meals. I'm screaming out your name baby, how does that feel..."

The Tea Party, Sun Going Down

Prologue

The girl stood poised and ready for battle, the handle of her gunblade clenched tightly in her gloved hand. The look of fierce determination on her face showed she meant business, that she was strong, and in the feeble light, she appeared almost masculine, in spite of her beautiful face.

She was a warrior, through and through, the child of warriors of the highest caliber. Try as she might, she couldn't escape the history behind her name, or the legacy that her parents had left behind. Not that she'd ever known them, but she knew enough to know what kind of burden she had to carry on her slight shoulders. She knew that everyone expected her to fill their shoes, and perhaps even surpass their abilities.

As she faced her adversary, she had grave doubts about what was to become of her. Would she live up to everyone's expectations? Would she fail them?

All she knew as she readied herself for the fight ahead of her that she could not afford to lose. There was too much at stake.

There was only one who had ever bested her in training, and he stood before her now with a self assured gleam in his eyes as he raised his blade in salute. The girl returned his gesture with a cold stare and wiped her free hand against her fitted leather low riders, then ran her gloved hand through the sweat tangled black locks upon her head. She was ready for him, no matter how hard he fought, this time she would win. She had to win. She had to save face, to let him know the way it was going to be from now on.

There shouldn't have been any animosity in her heart as she moved forward to strike, aggressively pursuing him rather than remaining on defense as was her tendency. A future SeeD wasn't supposed to take it personal. But everything about this was personal. She was angry, resentful and hurt, and she wasn't afraid to let her anger ride. If she couldn't tell him how she felt, then she would show him.

She drew upon her silent resentment and delivered a series of sharp blows, of which he parried with ease, then he returned fire upon her. It wasn't hard to dodge the first, but the second slice cut into her arm as she tried to spin away from his attack. Enraged, she let loose a perfectly executed spiraling slice that caught him under the chin as her blade swung towards the sky. The sight of his blood brought her great satisfaction, even if her own flowed as freely as his.

He touched his chin and stared at the blood on his fingertips in surprise. He hadn't expected her to wound him.

"Don't do this," he warned.

Instead of a reply, she advanced again, using all her strength to swing the blade around, slicing at him again. He stepped out of the way in time to avoid being struck and she stumbled when her blade failed to hit it's target.

"Had enough?" he asked, nodding to her wound.

"Never."

"Don't be stupid. You know you won't beat me."

"What are you afraid of, then?" she asked and moved to strike again.

Just as she stepped into his path, he raised his own blade and slashed downwards. The tip of the gunblade met her forehead with as much force as a hammer might have, and had no less of an impact on her. Her vision blurred and she was sent to her knees, momentarily stunned and blinded by the force of the blow.

A white hot rage swelled up inside her and she screamed in a voice she did not recognize as her own as she advanced upon him. Sparks flew from the tip of her blade as it scraped the rock beneath her feet and she let fly a powerful upward stroke. She heard her own howl of anger mingle with his groan of pain as she shut her eyes.

She loved him. She hated him. He had hurt her. She had hurt him back. This was how it was to be from now on.

The blade slipped from her hand as her scream died away, and she felt herself falling . . . . .

Great Hyne, what had she done? What had he done?

For a few precious moments, she knew only the darkness of unconsciousness, but that didn't last long. Rather than get to her feet and finish what she'd started, she merely lay against the cold, hard rock, begging Hyne to take back everything that had happened between them. She'd been a fool, searching for something he could never have given her, no matter what she'd convinced herself. He didn't care, and he never had. She was just another conquest. A notch on his bedpost. Nothing more.

As she lay bleeding upon the rocks, with her eyes closed, she heard the sound of his boots walking away, as if leaving her for dead. In the silence that followed, she nearly crumbled. But she couldn't cry. She wouldn't let the tears leave the corners of her eyes. Tears showed weakness, and she was determined not to be weak.

Why had she had opened up to him? Now, he knew her weakness, and he knew exactly how to hurt her, and in ways that were not physical.

She couldn't allow that to happen, no matter what. No one would ever be able to hurt her again.

No one.

Notes: Another story where the original post format got eaten. I've fixed the formatting issues and revised this passage somewhat. I'd love to overhaul this story a bit...I think I mentioned how much I liked this one, and I count it among my (own) favorites. What is probably going to happen is that I'll revise it chapter by chapter, adding new content along the way, and then begin posting new chapters. Nothing about the story will change, but there may be a new passage here or there, just for fun, and just because this is the one I can't let go. Even if it is unpopular.

Anyway, if you're new to this story or a previous reader, I'd love to hear from you. Review me, send me a message, whatever. I'm open to suggestions, comments, praise, flames, gripes and whatnot.