Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Final Fantasy VIII. All such characters are copyrighted property of Squaresoft.
Snows of Winter, Rains of Spring
By Joshua Reardon
Chapter 1: Out in the Cold
The wind howled out of the mountains and down the shear cliff face. Its biting sting was enough to make the lone figure walking the trail, hunch against the cold. It had been blowing like this since he had left the small hamlet nestled in the foot of the lower hills some two hours ago. He berated himself silently for not preparing better, but like so much in his life, it had been a spur of the moment decision to come here.
Squall Leonhart was not a man to run from much, if anything, but over the last few months, a virus had been worming its way through his system, eating away at his self-reliability. He chided himself for thinking of her like that, this woman that he supposedly loved.
Rinoa Heartily. They had become so much more than just simple friends, if they had ever been something so limiting as that title. After the defeat of Ultimecia and the return from time compression, his life became a whirlwind, even more than normal for a SeeD, the best of the best. He found himself being unable to do the slightest of tasks without thinking of her, without wondering what she was doing at that exact same instant. It was those thoughts that scared him the most.
He had been simply walking along the corridors of Balamb Garden, the monolithic proportions of the institute long since losing any awe in his mind, when thoughts of her began flitting through his head. Her face, her eyes dancing in his mind to a waltz only his ears could hear. Just like the night they had met, under the stars. He could still hear her faint laughter at his ineptitude on the dance floor. The feel of the silk of her dress under his hands as they finally found a rhythm even he could move to. And her eyes, always on him, hinting at some secret that had to be uncovered.
He was interrupted from his musings in the hall by a group of students, giggling over something. His ears finally caught their words;
"There goes the love-struck Commander".
They were laughing at him. They had been admiring him up until two months ago, and now they were laughing at him? He couldn't believe he had made such an ass of himself. He was nothing more than some doting puppy, trailing after Rinoa, hoping for some scraps.
His mind screamed at the thought of losing himself in another. Would this be how it always was going to turn out? For the sake of happiness, would he lose his identity completely? What was his identity? Commander Leonhart? He hated that title. Would it be better to be 'Rinoa's lap-dog'? Could he never just be Squall?
He had to get away, to think, to live a life that wasn't defined by the company he kept. And there was that spur of the moment decision making that got him into so much trouble in the past. He strode straight for the Headmaster's office.
In the two months following the last Sorceress War, Garden had become a non-profit organization, or at least was in the process of transferring over. The world governments had seen fit to make Garden, and by extension SeeD, accessible to everyone who needed them, and so set about appointing Garden as a sort of world-wide response agency. Each government now contributed a portion of their yearly wealth to Garden. Each county retained its own army but Garden was assumed to be a special task force for international purposes.
Now the missions were flooding in and there weren't enough SeeDs to accomplish them all. Some of the more minor ones had even been pushed to the wayside. One such mission was in a tiny hamlet in the eastern forests of Trabia, at the foot of the Mjornir Mountains, on the Thor Peninsula.
Striding into the Headmaster's office, Squall demanded to be sent somewhere, anywhere as long as it was far from here. Cid Kramer could only shake his head. He had known Squall for quite some time, and could see when he was running away from something, and he was guessing it was a certain 17 year-old girl.
"Running never solved anything Squall", the Headmaster chided, knowing his words were falling on deaf ears.
"Whatever". The simplicity of his reply left no room for argument. "I'm going crazy here sir, I need to do something".
"Well, I imagine you probably want to go alone, so you can have every possibility of getting horribly killed", a slight nod was his only response, obviously paying no heed to the biting sarcasm. "Very well, you can help me finish some of this back-log, and besides, if I send you to the most gods-awful place I possibly can, maybe you won't be so keen on darting off next time".
Again, "whatever."
"Trabia Garden had to give us this one, what with all the rebuilding going on, so on and so forth", he said, reaching for a sheet of paper in a very full in-basket. "Seems a small village on the outskirts of the continent is having some dragon trouble. The villagers report a great Ruby Dragon coming out of the Mjornirs to terrorize their little hamlet. I don't hold much stock in it", he snorted,"Ruby's don't like the cold much, but apparently the little town is quite adamant."
"I'll leave immediately sir", he stated with no emotion in his voice what-so-ever.
"Now no need for that. Take a day or two, put your affairs in order and report to the tasking office then".
"I'll leave immediately sir", he stated once again, rather more emphatically.
Cid could only shake his head. "You're obviously upset about something", he said, his voice trying to convey concern. "Son, you shouldn't leave like this". Even as the words were leaving his mouth he knew they would have no impact. 'Damn the boy', he thought, 'he can be so stubborn at times'.
"You'll have my report on your desk in a few days, sir." With that, he curtly saluted, turned on his heel and strode out of the office.
After confirming his assignment with the tasking office, he left without so much as a word to anyone.
As the Ragnarok's engine thrummed into high speed over Garden, Cid could only look out his window and wish the boy would find the answers he didn't know he was looking for.
So here he was, on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, two hours out, away from the simplest of comforts. Not that he had ever needed those comforts, but at least a heavy jacket would have been nice. The fur lining the collar of his leather coat having long since turned to ice.
He had come out here to escape his thoughts, but found them waiting like a viper in the hedge, ready to spring and inject their venom once more. And he couldn't get her out of his mind either.
It had started to snow now, which certainly didn't help his disposition or his situation. Snow would cover any tracks left by the dragon, if it hadn't just flown down on its murderous rampage. He had seen that carnage first hand.
When he had first arrived at the sleepy hamlet of Odin's Vale, he had found it anything but. Buildings were charred and ruined, a few still on fire, while a number of villagers were desperately trying to put it out, with of all things, a bucket line. Looking around, he could see wisps of smoke trailing off of charred hunks that they had failed at. There were a few people at one end of the main road, weeping over a large pit, while a priest of Hyne intoned verse in an ancient language.
Reeling from the scene of so much tragedy, he joined in the bucket line before his mind completely shut down. 'Give me something to do,' he thought, 'so I don't have to think'.
The villagers were only too happy to have another on the line, even though Squall knew it was a fool's errand. The house was too far gone, but maybe they could prevent the fire from spreading to the surrounding buildings, those fortunate enough to escape the fire's indiscriminate hate.
An hour later, the last of the fires had been quelled. Squall finally sat down on the porch of a building that used to be there. He had taken off his jacket in the face of the fires heat and now was completely covered in soot and ash. His face was almost black except for lines that beads of sweat had made as they traveled down his brow and temple. He was exhausted, but he could see the toll the carnage had taken on the villagers was even greater.
A man similarly blackened from the fire approached him. He was tall and had the bearing of a leader about him.
"Thanks for the help stranger. We don't get many big city boys around here. What's your name?" he asked in an easy going manner, offering his hand in a shake.
Squall hesitantly looked at the man and his hand. "Leonhart, from Garden" he said ignoring the proffered handshake.
"From Garden? Well, it's about time. We've only been requesting help for over a month now" he said, a small amount of venom in his voice, but his smile returned as he turned back to Squall.
"Well, it's good that you're here now, anyway. We've sorely needed someone to help with this mess we're in." he stated, looking around at the devastation. "I'm Cail Longhorn, people around here call me the mayor but I don't know why", he said with a smirk upon his face.
"I don't think now is the time to be cracking jokes, sir" Squall stated in an almost derisive tone.
"Son, if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to keep going right now. It keeps me from thinking about all the friends I've buried in the last week" the mayor retorted, his voice like that of a man who has accepted defeat, once too often.
"I'm sorry, sir". Squall could relate, if not so much with the laughter part, but certainly he had found ways to avoid tragedy in his life. "Do you have a place left standing that I could clean up?"
"Unfortunately, the charred, burned out husk you're sitting on used to be our only inn". He scanned the remains with almost a wistful look on his blackened face, memories rising to the surface from long ago. "I guess I'll have to put you up at my house".
The last thing Squall wanted was to get close to these people or any people at this time. He just wanted to do his job, why did they never let him just do his job?
"I wouldn't want to put you out, sir".
"Nothing to do about it, everyone else is full up with all these houses gone. The townsfolk have given me some space what with my fami…. with my loss. Everybody's lost someone now and all that space doesn't make much sense for one man. Might as well make use of it". Squall could here the unspoken words. 'My family's death'.
Squall prevaricated for a moment, and finally relented. "Alright".
Cail turned toward the young SeeD. "Well, alright then. You got some luggage I could help you with?"
"Just this", he patted a long rectangular case that had been left at the inn's stoop, "and I've got it".
Squall stood somewhat wearily and began to follow the mayor. Retrieving his jacket, they began to make their way along the now desolate road. Most of the villagers had retreated to what was left of their homes. Squall marveled at the amount of devastation, the scorched homes, and finally, the mass grave. His mind began to reel again, but he berated himself for his weakness. He had seen worse he told himself, much worse. 'But it never gets easier'.
"So it really was a Ruby", he mumbled.
"Pardon?" asked the mayor, cocking his head sideways.
"….nothing, sir". It seemed almost morbid to tell the true reason that SeeD hadn't responded sooner, in the face of so much tragedy. How could he tell this man, who had watched friends immolated before his eyes, that the reason he hadn't come sooner was that no one believed them?
Cail looked at him with a reprimanding face. "Now knock that off, my name is Cail", he chided jokingly, "you're making me sound old".
"Hmph….Squall", the young SeeD replied, almost too low to hear.
"I know", Cail answered, to a rather stunned Squall. "You were involved in that Sorceress business a few months back, I'm interested but I didn't want to pry".
'Well, you're the first', thought Squall. Everyone always wanted to know. What was facing Ultimecia like, what was the future like, how did you escape time compression? That last topic brought a certain girl back to his mind, something he was trying to escape for the moment. He shook his thoughts away before they lingered.
It was truly amazing to find a place where people may have cared about the incident, but weren't clawing at him for the answers. Maybe these people were just so busy trying to survive that the answers just didn't matter. Maybe this was just the place he needed to be right now, somewhere that it just didn't matter.
They walked the rest of the way in silence. They eventually came upon a small house not too far out of the way. The residence was two stories, with a small yard piled high with snow. The walk was clear though. Squall could see how the dragon had missed it. It was just far enough away from the main town area to be out of sight and yet not a great pain to walk into town.
Cail led him in through the front door, a small opening in the bottom, a flap presumably for some quaint family animal. As they went up the stairs, Squall looked upon the numerous photos lining the wall. Always the happy family. What was that like, a happy family? Would he ever know? 'Do I care?'
"You can stay in the guest room here, it's not much, but something tells me you won't be staying long anyway". Cail gestured to a room on his left, "heads are in there, you can clean up".
Setting the case on the bed, he went into the bathroom. He noticed immediately that the room still had a woman's touch. 'She died recently, maybe even to the dragon' the thought weighing heavy on his mind.
He set about cleaning himself up. There wasn't much he could do about his shirt, but it's not like he was on parade or anything. As he was cleaning the soot off his arms, his hand stopped and held still. What if Rinoa had been the one lost, would be able to go on, like Cail had? What would be the purpose?
Once again he angrily shook away the thought, focusing on scrubbing with a vengeance. When he was done his arms were red.
He went back to the room, striding up to the bed and just looked at the case, its black leather like midnight on a summer eve. The silver lions head, shining like a star streaking through the heavens. He opened the case.
Blue steel shone with an inner fire, as Lion Heart was revealed to the room. The wickedly keen blade, holding so much malice in its simple form. Something about this sword sung in his heart, promising violence to those who would have it.
As he pulled the blade from the case, he could feel the strength in the weapon, an ancient power stretching back centuries. He attached the charge revolver and swung the blade tentatively, going through a motion he had practiced for over ten years. His swing gaining momentum and strength with every pass until his movements were a blur to the untrained eye. Suddenly he stopped dead, the blade inches from his face. He brought the sword down in a knightly salute, pressing his forehead to the flat of the blade.
There was some connection between him and this weapon. Some primal force binding them together. The longer he held the sword, the more it felt like an extension of his body, and when he let it go, it was like losing a limb, like having his arm removed at the elbow.
"I haven't seen a gunblade in a long time, and never one so fine as that". Squall's musings were interrupted by a voice from the door frame.
"I fought very long and very hard for this", he said, not knowing why he was revealing this intimate detail. "It is a part of me".
"It may be a part of you, but don't let it become you", Cail warned, and in a small voice he continued, "Hyne knows I learned that the hard way".
Silence stretched between them until the older man broke the veil, "I would go with you, if you asked for help. It is a great beast, I have seen it. You need not be alone".
Knowing despair when he heard it he realized Cail hadn't gone on, he was just surviving. To his obvious death-wish, he replied, "it's not your time".
Nodding, Cail let it drop. He watched as the young SeeD made his way down the stairs and to the front door. He paused with one hand on the door handle, the other lightly resting on Lion Heart in its holster, "thank you for the hospitality", he said without ever turning around.
"You're welcome".
With that, Squall opened the door and left.
Now, two hours out and still no sign of the great beast. The snow effectively covering any tracks left in its wake, and the continuing flurries blocking his line of sight, he was very rapidly losing control in a situation where control was necessary for survival.
Through the blowing wind and flakes he could make out a tree line in the distance. He made his way toward the safety of cover and perhaps a small haven from the ravages of the weather.
As he entered the safety of the pines, the wind began to lessen and the snow fell almost lazily through the brush, taking its time to arrive on earth. The trees seemed to go on endlessly, white, brown and green for as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful in a deadly way, like Shiva in all her glory. An icy beauty destined to freeze your heart.
How much Rinoa would like this, this vast beauty.
There she was again, stealing into his thoughts like a thief in the night. He did love her didn't he? Would one simple joke be enough to drive him away if he did? If he was being truthful with himself, and he believed he finally was, it was never the joke. It was how close they were becoming. If he let it continue, would it come to a point where he wouldn't even be able to survive without her? Would he be like Cail, wishing to die, just to take the pain away? Would he have the courage to find out, or would he continue to run, just like all the other times.
He needed to get back to her, to see her again, to feel her lustrous hair through his finger tips. The soft touch of her lips. He truly needed her, and suddenly, he wasn't afraid.
A loud crash broke his reverie as the ground began to tremble. Footfalls like thunder crashing in the distance preceded it. It was enormous, this giant ancient thing, its body stretching back through the trees it had destroyed in its wake. Red plates glittered along its length, shining from the reflection off the snow. Its head was massive, large enough to swallow a man whole in one bite, and it was hungry. Steam rose from its mouth as it opened its jaws slightly, saliva dripping off enormous fangs as long as his forearm. Its talons rent the earth in great furrows as its tail thrashed, destroying trees older than Squall by a hundred years. Suddenly, Squall knew a different kind of fear, and it was staring him in the face.
A voice, ancient as time broke into his thoughts, sweeping away hope and stealing his resolve.
'You will die squirming between my teeth, Man-thing, even as my breath melts the flesh from your bones'. Its mouth hadn't moved, but the words had come from the beast.
The final thought to flit through Squall's mind before the last, was of her.
'Rinoa, I love you'.