Authors Note: I realized I should have posted this chapter with the prologue since it might have confused a few readers, and you guys would probably want something else with the short prologue.
The inspiration for this story did come from Alias and for the first chapter it will be following most of the Alias story until I change the direction. So, if you see familiar things don't worry. It will NOT follow Alias. I forgot to mention all this in the beginning. Sorry!
Truth Be Told
Chapter 1: Sometimes the Truth Kills
The noise got louder quickly and then the door finally creaked open…
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Three Months Earlier:
The door finally creaked open to reveal the face of an old, weary gentleman, his characteristics more scholarly looking with time. His buttoned up yellow vest pockets were jammed with red ink pens and a pair of his reading glasses, all tucked securely for easy use; Hyne forbid a learned man of his stature lose his glasses!
He wasn't aging well; substantial amount of his silver hair had been lost, and the skin under his eyes had not fared any better over time, for they were wrinkled and swollen, undoubtedly due to the many nights he spent scanning the millions of texts that occupied the city's local library. He paused before the doorway and sighed upon seeing the young lady who sat scribbling frantically into the papers that were spread out haphazardly about her desk; it was her usual approach of frantic, unorganized hysteria. How she managed the frenzy remained a mystery.
The woman's ultimate fear was becoming a reality, everyone knowing that she had failed once again at her quest to eternally memorialize her mother's being by becoming a piano player. The piano, other than her precious ring, personified everything her mother had lived for. To Rinoa it offered a silent chance at unspoken appreciation that went beyond the land of the living; at least this is how she internalized her sorrow towards not knowing her mother. It was her way of never breaking their bond even in death. It was her promise, and it was useless!
Professor Aki was going to scold her again. She just knew it.
"Rinoa, times up." Not a hint of hesitation was in his voice. Maybe he would pity her this time?
"Okay, let…me…just…finish…my…little…song," she mumbled while scribbling the musical notes frivolously between each word spoken, not even paying attention to the harmonic consistency between them.
Rinoa recklessly slipped the finished papers into the professor's waiting hands. She hadn't even taken the time to neatly organize them into a pile; some of the edges were even crinkled or stained from spilt soda.
He took the papers willingly, not even bothering to give her his usual speeches of 'Do you think your mother would have acted like this,' or the infamous but mostly mortifying, 'Keep this up and your mother will be rolling in her grave.' Instead, he chose not to comment this time, figuring she had already suffered enough of his abuse today, and just let her go.
She quickly exited out the same door he had entered through, breathing a sigh of relief when she received no customary reprimanding. Even with all the odds stacked against her she always reminded herself of everything that was positive with what she was trying to accomplish.
I bet mom was like me, Rinoa thought now, clicking the pen she had been using open and shut repeatedly. Julia Heartilly, her mother, had been a highly regarded pianist in Deling City. She had had a passion for playing and teaching, but that was before she died in a car accident when Rinoa was still young. Rinoa thrust all lingering thoughts from her brain and clicked the door closed behind her, heading off into the bright afternoon towards a waiting male figure.
The figure decided to approach her first and gave a light hearted peck on her cheek, which sent beams of happiness and instantly brightened her mood. This was the main reason she stuck around him; he gave substance to her being, a purpose for her to fulfill no matter how short her pianist career was. This was her safe-guard to their relationship and the rest of the world: immaturity chock-full of hope. The two supposed 'lovers' treated one another as scapegoats to life, not as boyfriend and girlfriend.
"How did you do at today's lesson?" he inquired innocently; treading in the shallow end of this subject was always the best thing to do.
"So… I'm pretty sure he's going to drop me from his musical theory and interpretation class."
"He's not going to drop you." He knew Rinoa was smarter than anyone else in that class, even if she was a bit scattered brained at times. She just couldn't keep her focus, always seeming to have something else on her mind. Whatever it was that plagued Rinoa's mind, she was great at hiding it from him and the rest of the weary world that circled around her.
"I think he's going to drop me. I got into his class without the prerequisites. He's going to drop me from his class, Seifer."
He smirked at the use of his name. "You've never gotten a teacher to drop you. He's never dropped you before in any of your other courses, so why start now?"
She dismissed the idea of her professor not being able to drop her; he had it in him to take action, and he had already been threatening her for the past two weeks.
"I've been dropped before."
"When?" He was thoroughly amused at her now.
"High school in home economics class. It was more like I was kicked out." She sighed, more from the fact that this was the third time telling him this story than the actual memories from high school and being kicked out of class.
In high school, she never seemed to fit in anywhere. Sure, maybe a few cliques might have extended their friendship to her, but cliques weren't her style. And how could she participate in a social standard that she despised? Nevertheless, she hadn't been the normal teenager of the time. Take, for instance, her preference of reading novels at the library to beauty magazines in the woman's refresh. No, she wasn't an outcast by any means; she got along with everybody and they in turn adored her quirky output on life. She was in love with life but life just never slowed down for her to experience most it. No carpe diem.
"What did you do?" He asked, temporarily bringing her out of her revere. "Didn't you embroider something on a T-shirt?"
"Sweatshirt. It was the assignment." She corrected him.
"What, it was obscene? Something with the teacher?"
"He was a sexist pig. I deserved a scholarship for that." Rinoa inwardly smiled at that memory. She was the type of girl to stand up for her convictions no matter how insane it made her at times. She believed in fighting for the underdog, this being the basis for her career choice. She just wanted to help people. Sure, music is a source of healing, but there were other, more covert career choices she was obliged to perform, all of which served that greater good.
She noticed Seifer fidgeting with the contents of his pockets; he had always refused to use a suitcase, proclaiming that it 'cramped his style.'
"Hold on a second."
She stopped as per his request, and turned to face him, but couldn't help raising her right eyebrow at his unusual behavior.
"I've got a double shift again." His eyes went straight to his feet. "I wanted to wait. Maybe do it on the weekend, but I couldn't."
"What's going on?" The crease between her eyebrows deepened in confusion.
It was at this exact moment that the bells of the remote campanile started to ring; a distant sound of birds taking flight could be heard as they flapped their wings towards the sky. It was like one of those old black and white films on the streets of some romantic city where two foreign lovers embraced each other. Seifer and Rinoa hardly ever acted that way in public or in private for that matter. It was in the middle of all this romantic confusion that she saw Seifer lower himself to one knee, extending his arm out towards her.
"Rinoa, I can't tell you how much I hope you'll marry me. Despite the person I've been."
Rinoa Heartilly was utterly stupefied. Her feet felt like they had melted right into the hard concrete below. Her brain halted at once, rationalizing the appropriate answer, but she found none. She couldn't even stop those conflicting emotions within her before they subdued her consciences and took control, forcing her regretful reply:
"Yes." She said kneeling down to his level.
Why did I say yes?
As if reading her thoughts Seifer forcibly joined his lips to hers; her own emotions never had a fighting chance to change her answer. She was shocked at the actions of her boyfriend--boyfriend was no longer the correct term, he was now her fiancé. For having just been proposed to, she wasn't feeling very happy; wasn't this supposed to be the happiest moment in a girl's life? The one that just oozes romance at the seams? But she wasn't feeling it.
He deepened their kiss and all her unstructured thoughts flew away along with that flock of birds, a bad omen no one seemed to sense; a murder of crows.
"Yes!" She declared more enthusiastically than the first reply.
"I love you." That was the first time either one heard that phrase.
They hugged tightly, her hand pressed across his back, her engagement ring glowing against the sharp contrast of his dark shirt. She was too lost in all her anxiety to even notice the ring he slipped on her finger. She could feel the weight of her thoughts tugging on her shoulders; reality was settling in.
Things just got complicated.
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"I know, I cry at every damn thing! Hold on." The woman wiped her eyes free of the tears, pushing up on her lashes lightly so as not to cause her mascara to run. "Oh, let me see it again. Oh, honey, it's beautiful!"
The two best friends sat in Rinoa's kitchen table admiring the new engagement ring. They were acting like giddy school girls and it seemed that Rinoa's mood had brightened, all thanks to her friend, Selphie Tilmitt.
"I know. I'm getting married!" She almost squealed, but pressed her fingers to her lips before the excitement could bubble out of her.
"You're getting married!" Selphie did the squealing for Rinoa as they hugged. She didn't understand why Rinoa was not as excited about it as her. It seems like I'm the one getting married, not her.
"So, did you tell Zone yet?" Selphie inquired, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth.
"Meeting him at the track after the bank. Do you want to come?"
"No thanks. I've got three hundred orthopedic surgeons to entertain and no desire to exercise." She took a deep breath before she asked the next question, knowing full well that Rinoa wouldn't be happy to hear it, but it needed to be said by somebody; someone had to be the enemy.
"What about your dad?"
"I haven't told that man, yet." Rinoa sighed slightly. "I don't want him to ruin this... not this. You know?"
Rinoa and her father, or 'that man' as she referred to him, had never on the best of terms. They never talked anymore; the last time they were remotely civil towards one another was before her mother passed away. Thoughts of 'that man' raced through her brain and her bottom jaw clenched involuntarily at the images.
"Your mother would be so happy for you, Rinoa"
Rinoa released her tightened jaw, never realizing that she had been holding it. Her expression softened knowing her mother would be proud of her right now, even if she never made it as a pianist. She smiled at the calming thoughts.
"She would." If she was going to have a happy wedding she should have at least one happy parent there but there was only one left to choose from. "Maybe I should call my dad..." Rinoa thought briefly about changing her mind and not calling him. "I mean, he is my dad." He is my Dad, but he is also a bastard.
"You are schizophrenic! Just remind yourself, unless you're talking about military protocol and subjective propaganda, that man's got nothing to say. Let him find out when he gets the invitation."
"He already knows. Seifer called him to ask permission."
"Seifer called your dad? The General Caraway?"
"Mmm hmm." Rinoa nodded her head to indicate that she was just as surprised as Selphie, and she already knew about it. Was she surprised at Seifer doing anything other than propose, or for the fact that two men actually had a conversation together? It's not like Seifer. It's not like either of those men!
"And how did that go?" Selphie asked, already pre-determining that the outcome wasn't pleasant.
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The small jingle from a phone rang through the office of the powerful General Fury Caraway; he let it ring for almost a minute before deciding to answer it, having no idea of the tempest brewing in the other mans belly as he waited as patiently as possible. Was it anticipation or fear that drove the man's gut crazy?
"Yeah." A monotonous voice boomed on the other side of the phone. There was no doubt about whom the firm voice belonged to. It had to be the general, but he made sure anyway.
"Mr. Caraway?"
"Yes, I answer my own phone."
"It's Seifer Almasy." He waited for the old general's recognition but was awarded no response so he chimed in and added, "Rinoa's boyfriend."
"Is Rinoa alright?" For there being a slight possibility that his only daughter might be in trouble the general held fast to his emotions, keeping them at bay.
"Oh, yes, she's fine." Seifer gulped. "Nothing to worry about. I'm calling because I'm planning on asking Rinoa to marry me and... I was hoping to get your approval."
The general took an irritated deep breath through his nose, releasing it out his mouth, tickling the small mustache hairs above his lips before asking, "Seifer, let me ask you a question."
"Sure."
"How well do you know my daughter?"
"Um, we've been dating awhile now." Was this supposed to be a trick question?He probably knew Rinoa better than her own father did. It was truly pathetic to him, but he would continue to play into Caraway's game.
"Because if you feel the need to ask me about this scenario, I have a sense you don't know Rinoa at all." He almost faltered by saying my Rinoa, almost letting his façade fall.
"Sir, I love your daughter and I want to marry her. That's why I'm calling."
"First of all, Seifer, the truth is this is just a courtesy call. Like when you say to your neighbor, 'We're having a loud party on Saturday night if that's all right with you.' What you really mean is, 'We're having a loud party on Saturday night.'"
"Mr. Caraway…"
"Rinoa doesn't give a damn what my opinion is. What interests me is that you do."
"It's just a custom to call the father. That's all this is…"
"Well, then, I'll tell you what. I may become your father-in-law, that's just fine. But I will not be used as part of a charming little anecdote you tell your friends at cocktail parties so they can see what a quaint, old-fashioned guy Seifer really is. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir..."
"Good. Then welcome to the family." General Caraway hung up the phone satisfied with his victory, he didn't even mind that fact that it might upset his daughter if she found out.
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Rinoa listened to the small, whistling branches that lined the side walk as she strode brisk-fully towards her office. It was amazing to her how nature seemed to be able to grow and survive in its cement prison of the city.
The wind around her was fluting through crannies and around barriers of the building, picking up scraps of trash and sending them into flight. She allowed herself a moment's pleasure as she walked; a short, indulgent minute or two to simply enjoy the beaming daylight. The suns rays were gently warming the sides of her cheeks into a blush. She raised her face to the sun like an eager child silently begging for a kiss; it seemed the longer she was engaged the more she was beginning to love it. Maybe all that was needed to quell her fear was time. She lowered her head back in order to concentrate better on where she was heading, easily turning the corner and brushing past the Credit Deling street sign.
Rinoa walked through the front doors of the Credit Deling building; it was probably one of the largest buildings in all of Deling, especially if you counted all the top-secret sectors contained below.
One of the main security guards opened the doors to the executive elevator to let her pass by, pressing the close button the minute a non-agent walked by. He smiled down upon her as the doors slowly closed. This was how it always was here, routine, routine, routine! Any act unfamiliar might be subjected to a thorough investigation, for this was no ordinary bank. It was Credit Deling a black ops division of SeeD, labeled SD for short. This was the work she was doing for the greater good: secretly bringing down dangerous terrorists, spying on the enemies' scientific studies, a list of never ending jobs that goes on forever. She was special agent Rinoa Heartilly, multiple aliases, codename: Angel.
She didn't know why she was given the codename angel; maybe it was because of the blue duster with the imprinted angel wings on the back she wore the first day of work.
Angel? I'm no angel.
"Morning, Rinoa!" The elevator guard gave her the usual wink and wave. "You look stunning today, like a glowing angel I might add."
She waved back awkwardly before the elevator came to a close. The metallic doors reflected her awkward posture with her hand stopping in mid wave. That was when she noticed the small shimmering glint that the diamond on her finger cast.
My ring!
Rinoa wanted to tell the world about her latest engagement but this job required she give herself fully to her agency, and being married complicated that aspect; maybe that's the reasoning behind why her flamboyant partner never seemed to settle down with one lady at a time.
Maybe I should call it off with Seifer?
That wasn't the only reason she chose when she folded her hands behind her back and slipped the ring off her nimble finger. She had hardly been able to take Selphie's excitement earlier and didn't need it from her co-workers. But hadn't she just been happy to be getting married? Selphie is right, I am schizophrenic.
The elevator halted, opened, and she stepped out into what was clearly the winner of the whitest room in history. As she stood there surrounded by the white-washed walls a series of red lights flashed around her breaking the colorless room into a circus of red haze before fading away with the opening of the an unseen door.
Rinoa stepped through into the main offices of their SD branch. It was clearly an office space by the various men and woman in black suits carrying out their daily grunt work: talking on phones, shuffling papers, doing intensive research on computers, and outlining various maps with push pins and code-markers assigned to some unknown location. The men in black seemed content with their work, happy at their successful steps to take down the enemy.
They all seemed happy, that is, except for the man at the desk farthest away; he was on the phone and had his boots planted directly on top of his desk not even noticing he was scrunching up important field reports in the process. Rinoa snuck up beside him and snatched the files from beneath his feet, saving them from total destruction at the hands (more like feet) of her partner, Irvine Kinneas.
"You should tidy up your desk more," she said, innocently leaning over and dumping the now neatly straightened folders into his filing cabinet.
"Auf weidersein." He ended his conversation on the phone. "God, I hate this."
"Why? It's only…"
"No, not my case work. These new headsets keep pinching my ear." With an aggravated sigh, Irvine abruptly tore the headset down onto the desk.
"Oh, give it to me." She picked the discarded headpiece up off his desk and began fiddling with the device. After only a few seconds she declared her victory over the stubborn device, placing the newly revised headset back on his desk. "Any word from Decklin?"
"Not since Timber. I keep telling myself he's just fine. You know, he's done this before, disappeared for days like this." He stopped instantly, taking note of a slight change with her. He had noticed it earlier but it was becoming even more apparent, especially after she flaunted her craftsmanship with the headset. He took it as his partnership duty to identify what made her so cheerful today. In reality he was just being noisy. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing." She blinked back her surprise at the question. "Why?"
"You're, like..." He smiled confidently, excited at making her squirm. They were just partners, but he couldn't help but get under her skin. And he just couldn't resist flirting with who he considered to be the 'hot mamma' of the agency. "You've got a glow."
"I don't have a glow." She blushed inwardly, drawing her focus away and over to his calendar, flipping it to the correct month.
"Yeah, look at that!"
"Come on. Kramer's waiting." She pushed the pin holding the calendar up harder into the wall. "There's no glow!" And with that final comment, she turned on her black heels towards the briefing room.
Watching her leave, Irvine turned around towards the agent in the desk behind him. "Is she glowing?"
"Big time."
"You hear that?" He called towards her turned back but Rinoa just threw her hands up in defeat. He had proved his point.
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The briefing room was always eerily cold to Rinoa, but today the temperature had seemed to be at its lowest. Couldn't their government afford a well-needed heating system? She shivered once again, realizing that she shouldn't have outwardly shown her discomfort after Irvine immediately draped his arm across her shoulders. Unfortunately, for Irvine, his arm was slapped away by Rinoa, indicating that he should pay more attention to the meeting currently at hand.
"Vascar Mueller was killed last month. He was riding a moped through Dollet and was hit by an ambulance, of all things. We've kept our eye on this guy for quite some time. He fancied himself as a modern day alchemist. His IQ was recorded as one of the highest on the planet," interjected their boss, director of this SD complex, Cid Kramer.
Irvine couldn't help but laugh at Vascar Mueller's fate. "Then again, he was riding a moped."
Cid Kramer ignored his top two agent's behaviors and tried his best to continue. Rinoa Heartilly had been at the agency for only seven years, while Irvine was two years her senior, but despite their ranks they were both equally matched in the field, each playing off the other's weaknesses.
"Between the multi-nationals and SeeD, there was a frenzy to recover Mueller's notebook and experiments, but none were found; at least not by the west."
Director Kramer motioned to the far side of the table to where a wide-screen was currently displaying a pixilated structure. "This building is also an Esthar cover station. We received word two weeks ago that one of Mueller's plans surfaced here."
"Who is the mole?" Rinoa chimed in coolly. She wasn't thrilled to know that even after seven years of service to her country she wasn't privy to every detail. They still keep things from me. Don't they trust me?
"Antonio Quintero. This is his last transmission. Uplink was on the fifteenth, brush past was scheduled for Tuesday. Quintero did not show."
With a simple click from Cid Kramer's desk, a new slide was presented: a mangled scrap of paper with quill smudges. If this had been any other person's diary the notes would have been easily discarded as rubbish, but the ancient diagram and hieroglyphics offered other uncertainties that Rinoa took interest too. At the SD, she had excelled primarily in linguistics and the translating of ancient texts, but this was a script she had never seen before; that should be reason enough for anybody to judge the notes as mysterious.
"What is that, hieratic?"
"That's what I thought. It's demonic. Taking notes in ancient languages is just one of Mueller's quirks. Apparently he had a few." Kramer knew Rinoa would be instantly fascinated by the demonic language, whereas Irvine looked bored, occupying his time with the contents of his folder until he found something of interest.
"So, Quintero's been burned?"
Cid Kramer shook his head in answer to Irvine's question, "We don't know. There's a party at the building next Tuesday. You're arriving in Esthar on Monday and employed by Timber Plastics.
Both Irvine and Rinoa threaded through the cover information contained within the files, flipping over passports, visas, and miscellaneous employment records.
"Working for a manufacturing plant…" Irvine smirked, wondering what sort of loser he'd be disguised as. A swankin' party and I won't be able to get no chicks.
"Based on the notes, you'll case the building's east wing measurements, locks, IO, the whole nine. Locate the lab where the plans are being held, and then come home. That's all. No retrieval. We can't risk it." The briefing room's screen was shut down indicating that the meeting was coming to a close.
"Okay, Watts, you go."
Watts' short form stood hesitantly; sitting silently throughout the entire meeting wasn't the only reason his legs wobbled nervously. He gave a timid, lopsided smile towards the people on the opposite side of the table; their restless expressions drove quick jolts of pain into his stomach and he would have escaped towards the men's restroom had it not been for the stern glare Cid shot him.
"Yeah, thank you. Uh…How's everyone?" He fumbled through his introduction, receiving yet another glare from Cid. The young techno-whiz couldn't help but sweat bullets. "Good. All right."
Watts' sweaty palms fumbled within the confines of his suit jacket until locating his latest spy intelligence device... a lighter?
"The first thing I have here is a, well, looks like a lighter, right? It's something that you would light your cigarettes with, or cigar. But actually it's an RF scrambler. It disrupts any video for a four hundred and twenty yard radius. So, if I were to hit this switch right here the whole block would be in a complete panic. So, what the hell, right?"
He was motioning everything with hands for emphasis: pretending to light the cigar, twiddling his fingers in front of his face in an attempt to show what scrambling would do. With a deep breath he switched the lighter open, miming lighting up an imaginary cigar that would have been held between his teeth. The intelligence device immediately went to work upon being 'fired' up: computer screens changed from their flashing SeeD insignia to scrambled white and black dots, and all listening devices planted within the room were rewarded with a high pitched squeal. He was certainly proud of his handy-work even if no one else seemed to care.
"See? Everyone's totally freaking out. What's going on with my computer, it's not... My DVD isn't working!"
Rinoa did care for Watts, and was pleased to see that his display of intellect gained him a few inches of the confidence he needed. All that he needed was gratitude and hopefully everyone else would outwardly show the man respect. There was one face, however, that wasn't smiling, and Rinoa didn't even bother turning to her partner to know it was him. She slid her left hand underneath the table towards Irvine's knee; this action would have otherwise pleased him had he not felt the sudden pressure expertly applied to key points of the knee. The sudden tingling sensation in his knee didn't go away until he sat straight up in his chair, smiling all the while at the nervous tech expert. Rinoa's smile towards Watts seemed to have grown tenfold in those last few moments.
Watts saw those smiles, the sweat seeming to cool down along the bridge of his nose. The distorted videos diminished, turning back to normal as he closed the lighter in his hands. This newly found confidence spurred him to continue.
"And we're back. Okay. Now, I got a twenty volt cell in here, so… you only get four minutes of a charge. So, you want to get in and do your thing and get out. Four minutes and two seconds and you're screwed." Watts tried his best to imitate Rinoa, doing what could only be described as cheesy kung-fu moves.
"Okay. The other thing I got is... you're going to like this... something that I'm really excited about." His eyes twinkled excitedly at Rinoa as he took out the next object that was obviously intended for her use.
"Looks like lipstick. You know… something that you would be for your lips, in a woman's refresh... but this is the amazing thing. It actually takes pictures, and it measures space in three axes from one vantage point. It assembles images based on GPS and creates a centimeter accurate blue print of a building. It's got a camera and a short pulse laser, plus a grid analyzer and I got it to forty-two snaps right now. But I want to get it to forty-seven because... that's a prime number."
Watts seriously should have taken a few more deep breaths in between those rushed sentences. Sitting back down in his chair, he noticed the nervousness had crept back into him and he realized just how nerdy and flustered he had become.
"Well. You might think this is a simple reconnaissance operation, but until we find out what these experiments are, we need to assume that the enemy is waiting. I want you to do us one favor. Come back."
Cid hadn't seemed so confident in those last few comments. A wisp of suspicion clawed away at the young female agent's stomach; why would they not come back?
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