Disclaimer: Irvine, Squall, and all other related characters of Final Fantasy VIII belong to Square Enix.

Warning(s): AU - Civil War era, implied Irvine/Squall, character death, slightly OOC

Note(s): Before you ask, this was written for an English assignment on writing a historical fiction narrative. And me being me, I had to turn it into fan fiction. :D And who do I pick for the characters?

Irvine and Squall, of course! And Zell makes an appearance, but not by name. D: Poor Zell.

This is obviously set in the Civil War of the United States. The battle that is included is the Battle of First Bull Run. Yay for history. :D

It's short, I know. But there was a limit of five pages! It was dreadful. So live with it.

'Hope you like it!

Glory
By Oblivion Sky

Battle was in the air. It was obvious that every man in the camp sensed it, that they could feel the rush of anticipation in their veins. As such, the entire company was restless that night, dreams of grandeur and valor occupying the minds of those that were asleep while conversations filled with boasting came from the few soldiers still sitting around their campfires. Flames danced in the darkness, casting an eerie light upon their faces and making the shadows seems even more potent and tangible. The men's horses pawed at the ground agitatedly, proving that the animals could feel the impending fight as well.

One man's voice was a bit louder than the others, brimming with a confidence that many of his comrades didn't possess. Long auburn hair shone in the light coming from the fire before him, and his cerulean eyes reflected the waltz that the blaze was performing as he spoke in a Southern-like drawl. "Yeah, I'm bettin' we'll take down the hull rebel army ourselves, eh, Squall? Jus' you an' me, we'll beat 'em all."

His companion shook his head in exasperation, sending a few strands of his heavily layered chestnut-colored hair slipping over his shoulders. "We'll see how you live up to that tomorrow, Irvine." His voice didn't have the Southern accent that his friend's did, a more clean-cut tone to his words that only those from the New England states carried.

Irvine simply waved a hand at the other, pausing to take a drink from the canteen lying at his feet before replying. "Well, you'll never git anywhere with that kind a' thinkin'. C'mon, you just gotta' 'ave a bit of a spirit, yeh' know?"

"I can think however I want to," Squall muttered, turning over the six-shot revolver that he held in his hands. He'd been cleaning the gun meticulously, Irvine noticed, and he recognized it as a nervous habit that some of the other men had been going through as well.

Laughing, he wrapped an arm around the brunette's shoulders companionably, giving him a shake. "Aw, c'mon now, Squall! This ain't no time to git scared 'bout nothin'! We're gonna' win, yeh' hear me? We'll give those rebs' a helluva time, trus' me."

Unexpectedly, Irvine saw that the shorter man was blushing, but whether it was from the contact or his words, he wasn't sure. He didn't have to ponder long before Squall answered, absently opening the chamber of the weapon before shutting it again. "I'm not scared. This is the first battle for us, and we're setting out for Richmond in the morning, so--,"

"Sounds like yer' scared ta' me," interrupted Irvine, rolling his eyes to the darkened heavens before looking down at his companion. "If you ain't scared, then why're ya' shakin'?"

Indeed, he could feel Squall's smaller frame trembling in his embrace, and when the brunette didn't say anything, Irvine decided to keep talking. "Listen ta' me. We joined the calv'ry to find glory, righ'? We knew it'd be no easy thin', but it'd be worth it. We're goin' ta' be great, Squall. We'll ride out there and give them rebs' a taste a' what we can do, understan'?"

A sound of relief escaped Irvine when he saw his friend nod, the tremors dying down until they were hardly perceivable. To his immense surprise, Irvine felt the brunette leaning against him, and he couldn't stop a small smile from gracing his lips as Squall let out a content sigh.

"Yeah, we'll find glory."

---

It was impossible to breathe, or even to see well for that matter, as the smoke was like a dense fog, a cloud descending upon the battlefield. The smoke could be smelled from a half-mile away and left an acrid taste in one's mouth. The horses neighed and shrieked in terror, and the gunshots almost seemed to increase in volume. The shrill, high Rebel yell sounded, seeming to come from all directions as it echoed off the trees. Amidst the chaos, the drumbeats from the field musicians almost set a tempo to the sounds of carnage. Torn limbs of people and horses flew around, nothing but masses of gore. The fallen soldiers faired no better than the ones that were alive, feet and hooves trampling their corpses into the ground in a macabre fashion.

'We're insane, ain't we?'

Irvine hadn't strayed from Squall's side since the Union Cavalry had entered the battle, Company A leading the charge. Everywhere he looked, there were sights of slaughter, and the screams of his comrades filled his head. Thankfully, none of them belonged to Squall, but it was all he could do to keep his horse next to his friend's own steed.

While Irvine had only drawn his saber and had yet to use it, Squall was duel wielding his own saber and the revolver from the previous night, one weapon in each hand. Any fear the brunette had felt had apparently vanished, leaving only a cold-blooded soldier intent on defeating the enemy. The curved sword was leaving deep gashes in the Confederate men that attempted to run by, the gun firing into them and being reloaded just as quickly. And in the midst of all this, Squall somehow managed to keep his horse under control, maneuvering it through the uproar flawlessly. Irvine could only watch with astonishment, but a sense of pride was right behind that.

'Laws, he is givin' 'em one helluva time!'

Wheeling his horse around with the intent to cover Squall's back, Irvine abruptly found himself facing the end of a rifle. However, by the time he had registered the situation, he discovered that his own revolver was in his hand, aimed at the enemy soldier's chest as it was drawn purely by reflex.

Irvine found himself staring down at a boy that couldn't be more than fourteen. Wild, unkempt blonde hair accented bright blue eyes that were currently wide with utmost terror, the rifle dropping to the ground as the boy released it. He panicked and stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet to land beside the weapon. And still, he gazed up at Irvine with those baby-blue eyes that were filled with tears at the prospect of his death.

Irvine couldn't shoot.

Squall seemed to notice, for he was shouting out to his companion in-between his own fighting. "Irvine! Shoot him!"

But his hand that held the gun was shaking, the aim becoming unfocused as he and the boy stared at each other. "I... I can't..."

"Forget it! Just shoot!"

His horse was sidestepping anxiously, whinnying as the battle continued around them while they remained stationary. Irvine shook his head furiously, aware that his own eyes were just as wide as the boy's. "I c-can't... My bullet... T-Tha' kid..."

"Enough! Just shoot!"

"I can't, Squall--!"

A force hard enough to knock him off his horse hit Irvine in the chest, and he could hear the roar of a stray musket sharply, though sounds immediately dulled. He could hear all the voices, the guns, the screams as though he was underwater, sounding so distant, so far away. Squall's voice was the loudest of them all, as if it was right next to him, but he couldn't tell, everything so hazy all of a sudden.

He clutched at the spot on his chest that felt as if it were on fire, and he was almost surprised to find that his hand was covered in warm, scarlet blood. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the voices, drowning out Squall, and it was dizzying, the beating rapid and harsh.

His eyes wouldn't focus, except on the bloodied grass beneath him. And with a sudden realization, he came to understand that it was his blood coating the blades of grass and tinting the green color a deep ruby.

It was sickening, and he felt nauseated, but Irvine could only gasp and retch brokenly. He could taste the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth. He couldn't move, only able to sob and gasp as the pain became unbearable.

'But... I couldn't... Tha' boy, he was... I couldn't kill 'im jus' for glory...'

Quite suddenly, the pounding stopped. His heart dulled, he couldn't catch breath. And it was then that Irvine realized that he was dying. His moment of glory hadn't come, and he had paid the ultimate price in an attempt to achieve it.

'Squall... Squall, forgive me... Don't be 'fraid anymore, Squall...'

The pain was gone. A consuming urge to sleep came over him, and so he closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't awaken from the slumber.


- fin.

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