Chapter 6 – Morning ever after

I.

~ Are you ready? ~

In the distance she saw a car, stalled in the middle of the road. A lone woman was edging closer to the car. The silence was the worst; heralding the inevitable storm, like drums raising all anticipation beyond endurance. The world all around them was stark grey, hollowed; all its consequence reduced to just this empty road, the car and this woman who should have known better.

This is it.

A man whose face she could not see was holding Rinoa back, preventing her from running towards the woman. There was a hand on her mouth, the sweat and heat of his grip absorbed her screams. She could only watch the woman. Even at this great distance her fear was easily read in both the rush and caution of her step. She was hesitating, knowing that what she saw inside the car could save her or destroy her. The windows were blacked out and that's when she cried out, calling for a child.

Rinoa

This time around, Rinoa wanted to tell the woman that she was alright; to not touch that door handle. Stay away from the car.

In other dreams, Rinoa just watched, waiting to see what happened. Let the woman repeat the same mistakes. Simply watch her roast so deeply, the stink of it remained in the minutes and years that followed her death. What's the point in crying for someone who never learned and continued to trudge up the same ugly path every single time.

But in this dream, Rinoa had forgotten her exasperation. Right now futility seemed like an abstract notion at best, there was just too much room for hope. It was worth screaming out loud, it was worth struggling against the stranger who held her down.

This time it'll be different.

The woman touched the passenger seat door, hesitantly, afraid of what she would find. Rinoa screamed. The woman didn't hear her, never heard her, so she pressed down on the handle. Another figure, a uniformed man, looking worn and ragged, ran towards the woman. He yelled at her, told her not to open the car. The man had known what was wrong with the car.

But before he could reach her and pull her away, the car exploded. The force blasted him away on his back. He never got up again. Rinoa could still see the woman, standing impossibly still at the center of the blaze, even as the car itself shattered to pieces around her and the ground underneath her cratered into an endless chasm. The woman was suspended, frozen with her hand on a handle that wasn't there. In her dreams, the charred woman endured beyond the fire, forever roasting at the center of an eternal explosion; ruined but never withering.

The only moving thing in the air was the scream, ripping through the smoke, across distance and time. A cry that never really died out, an outburst of desperation that never really left the sky.

Rinoa

But the scream faded into the mist that appears between the stage of awakening and the will to continue the dream. She forced her mind to hold onto the voice long enough to identify its meaning. But the words blended with nothingness, meaning lost in the grey shades of her memories but the feeling of the words ever so vivid. She remembered the voice, though she could not assign a face to it. But even the sound faded into darkness as her awakening vision met with rays of brilliant sunlight.

The dream was gone and so was its memory. After a long yawn Rinoa flopped over and struggled out of her bed to get dressed while wondering, like every morning, what it was that had troubled her in her sleep.. The only thing she could ever remember was that unintelligible cry that still echoed against the hollow caves of her memory, ringing with such ferocity that it dulled any sound of the present. She wondered who it was that called out to her from the past.

But by the time Rinoa left her room to meet her fellow squad members at the Academy's front gates, her mind was occupied by another memory.

The night before replayed in her mind, always stuck on the same moment. In her head she was forever dancing the same dance with that boy. For some reason, being with him had reminded her of Seifer. Usually the thought of Seifer left a stubbornly persistent lump in her throat, but this time, the comparison made her smile.

What would be the chances of meeting him again? To see him one more time and ask him if he wanted to dance again.

"Oi Rinoa," a voice hollered, interrupting her thoughts. It was Zell of course; who else could shout her name with the same urgency as fire and bloody murder. The boy sprinted up to her and left behind the group of three female cadets he was talking to. All of them glared at Rinoa, hissing in whispers amongst themselves.

"Hi Zell," she answered him.

"Are you ready?"

"For what?"

"For our very first our super important ass-kicking mission of course?"

Rinoa shrugged. "I packed a sandwich and a book for the train ride. Does that count?"

Zell shook his head wearily. "You're such a geek."

"I guess."

Zell bit his lip, the humour making way for nervousness. Rinoa wondered what he was building towards.

"Hey, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry," blurted out.

She frowned. "Sorry for what?"

He hung his head. "For the way I treated you," he said quietly."

"Oh Zell . . ."

"No, I was a jerk," he interrupted her. "I know we've been joking and talking since our SeeD exam, but I know the last year's been tough on ya and I just blew you off like that. You didn't know about….erm…y'know, him. Still I just blamed you just like everyone else. So, I thought about it, like for aaages, how it make it up and I've decided I'm gonna let you do it."

Rinoa smiled. "Do what?"

Zell drew himself up, looking solemn and resolute. "Let you punch me in the face."

"You want me to punch you?"

He nodded.

"In the face?"

"Yes, but only one punch though, so make it count."

He closed his eyes and steadied himself for what was about to come. Nothing happened for a long time, then quietly, Rinoa said:

"Open your eyes Zell."

She was looking at him with a serious expression. "I'm not going to punch you."

"But you have to," he whined miserably, "it is your right!"

"I'm not going to punch you," she repeated, "but you do deserve something."

Zell frowned, a little apprehensive what she had in mind and already regretting his offer. "What?"

"This."

She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing this silly sweet boy in, hugging him tight. She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Zell remained frozen into place, unsure for a moment and then uttered a slow Oh. The boy wrapped his big muscular arms around the girl, happy to relinquish the bad vibes from the past year and happy to be this forgiven. He lifted her up and spun her around a couple of times until she laughed and punched his shoulders to escape his craziness.

He put her down and stuck out his hand, cocky and formal. "Friends?"

"Friends," she agreed and they shook on it.

"This means we'll always protect each other," he said.

Rinoa liked the sound of that. "Okay."

"And that you can come to me for any kick-boxing lessons."

"Okay and you can come to me for any cross-bow lessons."

Zell looked at the weapon strapped to her waist and snorted. Rinoa punched his arm.

"Okay okay," he said jumping out of the way, "you can teach me how to throw your little pins. Fine."

"Okay, now let's go meet Selphie by the front gate."

As they walked away, an empty soda can flew past her ear. Startled, Riona whipped her head round to see one of the female cadets with a wild deadly look on her face.

Rinoa shook her head and kept walking.

"Sorry," whispered Zell, glancing nervously over his shoulder, "they do that sometimes."

"So this friendship thing," Rinoa asked waving a thumb at the group of girls, "does it include protection from the Dinchtettes?"

Zell groaned at the name. They weren't all like that, but he had to admit that there was a slightly intense breed of chick that he dared not mess with. So he usually gave in and flexed his muscles when they asked him to, but avoided dating them unless they frightened him too much to say no. What can you do?

"Sorry, no," Zell said with a dramatic sigh, "it's every man for himself when it comes to crazy chicks."

II.

~ Lesser SeeDs ~

An average level 15 SeeD, called Quistis Trepe, walked up the stairs leading to the make-shift stage like a condemned criminal stepping up the execution block. There was no longer a title before her name. She was just a job now. A number. For reasons beyond her grasp, it fell to her to address the hundreds of students in the Quad. Zander seemed to think that the cadets and SeeDs needed to hear the shocking news from a familiar face, rather than some anonymous board member they rarely saw. So this was her pleasant charge, to quench the fire of disbelief that had raged among cadets and SeeDs, ever since Xu discovered that the Headmaster was missing earlier that morning.

The massive hall range with the chaos of noisy speculations, as all students exchanged theories of what caused the Headmaster's disappearance, all ranging from the plausible to the absurd. On her way to the Quad, Quistis had heard whispers of an Estharian secret science project that attempted to cross-breed Headmasters with Ruby Dragons, or something equally bizarre. Yet a few not so gullible students said that this reeked of a Galbadian conspiracy.

When she finally stood before the speakers stand, the humdrum of agitated voices died down to the occasional whisper.

"Good morning Garden," Quistis began, "As you have must have heard by now, the Headmaster is indeed missing. As we are still in the early stages of investigation, I cannot disclose much on this subject, so I suggest . . . "

"We have a right to know," a boy-cadet said, emboldened by the shouts of agreement from his fellow students, he stood on his seat to be heard all the clearer.

"What happened to headmaster," he shouted, "who is behind this?

Damn you Cid, Quistis thought angrily. You always have an answer for everything. So why not for this?

"We don't have conclusive evidence to support this, but we have some reason to assume Galbadian involvement in this matter," Quistis said. "For the time being, head of Combat Strategies, Zander Marks is appointed as acting Headmaster.

"This incident will change nothing in our day-to-day operations." she continued, "You are to resume your normal activities as usual, until further notice. As your former instructor, I expect you to weather this as you have weathered everything else before, and continue to do your utmost to uphold what we so long have strived to establish. I hope you won't prove my faith in you to be baseless."

She paused for a moment, to let her words sink in, before she continued. "I give you the acting Headmaster of Balamb Garden, Zander Marks."

"Good luck Quistis," Zander whispered to he stepped past her. "Nothing's set in stone you know." He gave her one last encouraging wink as he began his address.

"Good morning garden, as your Acting Headmaster, I want to . . . ."

Quisits heard no more. She had left the quad to do something unprecedented in the history of Garden. She was to initiate a war, one that would continue for the generations to come and she was to do that with only three others.

Yesterday when she had arrived at her room, after her aimless wanderings through the cemetery to avoid the party, she had found Cid sitting at her desk, looking perturbed about something as he peered over a few files.

"Headmaster?" she had asked in surprise. "Aren't you supposed to be at the graduation ball?"

"There's a change of mission objective, sit down," he said bluntly. When she did as ordered, he gave her the files. "You are to execute President Vinzer Deling, details are in these files.

Quistis fell silent. She didn't need to ask why. President Deling's puppet government is what enabled the rise of the Sorceress. It was his mandate she ruled under and it was well known that the Sorceress herself was deeply unpopular with many of the senior Galbadian officials. If he fell, so would she.

It was a singularly risky endeavor. President Deling was the most well-guarded man in the world and this assassination would be the first in Balamb Garden's history.

And why now?

Ignoring her confounded look, he continued: "You will receive assistance from a contact organization in Timber. They call themselves the Forest Owls. We have come to an agreement as this mission is beneficial for both parties. Remember, this is not a contracted mission, so you are under no obligation to assist them after the assassination of the President. You remember what happened the last time we co-operated with a Timber resistance factor?"

Immediately those two words roared up in her mind. Goodbye Quistis

She shuddered imperceptivity, shaking the memory before it had the chance to take shape.

"Are we allowed to do that?" Quisits asked without taking her eyes off the files. "Isn't Garden supposed to remain neutral in matters of politics and restrict themselves only to contracted assistance?"

Cid sighed. "Quistis, do you know why Garden was established?"

She shook her head absently as she continued to read the instructions.

"Garden was meant to be a weapon."

Her head finally jerked up. "A weapon?"

"A weapon against the Sorceress and her minions. Another Sorceress's war is stirring Quistis, her wrath is rising to the surface and this is time the result will have to be absolute. Absolute defeat or absolute victory. The outcome depends on our actions.

"Garden's true mission is about to start Quistis. No matter what happens tonight Quistis, for you this mission is your highest priority. It will be dangerous, but I want you to know that whatever you accomplish will be for the good of others. Everyone in Garden has to sacrifice something for what we believe in, it's what makes us work."

She understood the implications. They wouldn't return from this mission.

"But why me Cid?" Quistis asked, dreading the answer. "I haven't done a mission in over a year, why not order a better SeeD with more ready field experience?"

Cid looked intently at her. "Quistis, I just told you that Garden's true mission is about to start, the time has come to justify its very existence. This mission is significant, don't get me wrong, but it's not as important as other challenges that Garden must face. You are to pave the way for those who are essential for Garden's survival, they have already received their instructions to protect Garden."

"Others?"

He cleared his throat. "Surely you understand that I can't afford to send my best assets and leave lesser SeeDs to defend our base? On a mission like this with uncertain chances, I fear that I'm forced to send those who are expendable to Garden's goal. Cruel times force me to cruel decisions."

"Cruel times," she muttered.

"I'm sorry Quistis," he said, "I'm sure you tried your best over the years, but I can't gamble our victory on your abilities. Sure you've got amazing technical skills for intelligence work, but you remember what happened during your SeeD exam and the mistakes you've made. So please don't be too troubled by this Quistis, I'm merely doing what's right for Garden's survival, surely you understand that?"

Hyne, she hated him so much. She hated his hollow sugarcoated apologies, his expression of counterfeit sympathy. Despite all that had happened during that meeting, she still could have handled the blow. She could have easily survived his words and retained some dignity in the face of rejection.

If only he had not apologized.

With his well-rehearsed expression of pity, he took something from her, something precious and well-earned, without which she felt barren. It reminded her that as always she was unneeded.

Unwanted.

"I understand Sir," she said, and somehow her voice remained a gorgeous prideful calm. "I will do my part and anything else that Garden asks of me. I too hold Garden's survival dearly."

Cid nodded, smiling sympathetically and stood up. "Very well, you need your rest for tomorrow's mission. I hope you will be ready for this Quistis."

"Trust that I will Headmaster," Quistis said dutifully. "I will lead this mission to the best of my capabilities."

Cid paused for a moment, adjusting his bowtie uncomfortably.

"Well Quistis," he began, "Haven't you read the mission statement?"

"I glanced over it; I intended to read it thoroughly tonight. Why?"

"Ah yes well, you are not to lead this mission Quistis."

"I'm not?" she asked.

"No, Rinoa Heartilly is the squad leader."

Breathe. Just breathe.

"Quistis, because you are slightly more advanced in your abilities, you were sent to assist in times of need as Xu suggested. You are to obey Rinoa's orders under all circumstances and act on her judgment."

Slightly more advanced?

"I understand Headmaster," she said, "thanks for bringing this to my attention, I will begin to read the statement. Goodnight."

Cid nodded and left her room.

I understand perfectly

III.

~ Goodbye Quistis ~

So here she was. All packed and stocked up. Her whip was cleaned and oiled; she had done her stretches and replaced her teacher's glasses with battle-friendly contacts. She was ready to join this mission. The last one of her life. Quistis walked out of Balamb Garden, glad for the meeting in the Quad that left these corridors deserted.

"QUISTIS," someone called.

Quistis recognised that even awkward tone before she even saw her.

"Yes, Fujin?"

A young, severe looking woman walked up to her. The harsh starch of her blue dress shirt and clean marching boots made her look more like a soldier than a secretary. Members of the admin department kept more formal work hours and were rarely seen in the Garden corridors, so Quistis was startled to see Fujin out of her office so early in the morning.

She felt uneasy at her approach. The young woman had that odd way of sidling up right into your personal space that Quistis found annoying. But Fujin had never been one for manners. Everything about her screamed aggression, her face was a restless inquisition and she had a way of asking people brutal questions, her rudeness expecting an outrageous level of honesty in return; which she usually got.

"You are going to Timber?"

"Hmm."

"Why?"

"It's none of your business Fujin," Quistis said wearily, and moved on towards the road.

"None of my business?"

Quistis stopped this, and swallowed uncomfortably.

Of course

She looked at the girl, at her one good eye and saw the questions in it.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I have the right," Fujin said. "Right to know."

Quistis looked at her eye patch. It was a classified mission, best thing to do was to tell her it had nothing to do with that day, but that would be a lie. If it involved Galbadians, Timber and President Deling, it had everything to do with that day.

The day Seifer stabbed out her eye.

"We are going to kill President Deling during a train trip," Quistis told the girl.

"Why?"

"It has something to do with Cid."

The girl looked down at this news. Quistis knew the reason too, understood that conflicting emotion that veered from hatred to concern, back and forth into a dizzying indecisive seesaw. The girl cared about the Headmaster, but she had just as much reason to hate him as Quistis did. They had both been abandoned, shunned even after their SeeD exam. Demoted and ruined, because of what Seifer had cost them.

Still, here Quistis was lucky. Her price hadn't been as high as Fujin's.

Or Rajin's.

"I'm going now," said Quistis and walked away. "Goodbye Fujin, take care of yourself."

"You're not coming back?"

Quistis sighed. A million things shot through her mind and the past day came back to her in an accumulation of guilt and resentment. With anger winning the better territory in her mind this time, she rounded back on Fujin. Suddenly feeling roused.

"I don't know," she whispered, her voice hot with honest angry promise, "but whatever happens, before I leave Timber dead or alive, we will get them back for what they did to you. To you both."

Fujin simply nodded at this.

"Goodbye Quistis."

IV.

~ Time to go ~

Rinoa turned her head to prevent Selphie from seeing her blush.

"Well tell me," Selphie insisted, "after you walked up to him, you guys suddenly swept off and I couldn't see where you went. What happened?"

"We just danced," she said, "when the dance was over, he left. There's nothing more to it."

Zell scratched his head. "Sounds like a prick if you ask me, walking off like that."

"Oh hush you," Selphie said impatiently, "what was his name?"

"I don't know," she replied, "he never told me."

Selphie slapped her forehead. "Oh man, I don't believe this. You never asked? Have you never done this before?"

"Uhm, I guess not. Not like this."

Selphie shook her head. "Alright, step 1: get a name. Step 2: get a marital status. Step 3: A number."

"Weeeell," Zell chimed in, "just steps 2 and 3 will get you by. Well, maybe even just 3. It depends."

"Go away Zell," Selphie pushed the boy aside.

Rinoa looked down, feeling a little foolish now. Of course she should have asked for his name. She had been so taken in by his reluctance and his sweet cautious curiosity, that she never wondered what his name was or where he came from. The night was there, the wine, the music and the fireworks were there. So when she saw this handsome boy standing all alone, looking lost and expectant, she simply accepted that he was there too.

Somehow it had seemed enough.

And honestly, did she really want to know the sordid story behind every pretty stranger?

Would she have wanted to know all of Seifer's secrets before she saved his life? Before all the days she spent in that little hospital room? Before their fight at the train station? Would that have made her love less? Hurt less?

It was too late now for regrets. The dance happened and for one evening, she had felt close to happy. That was good enough.

Selphie grinned. "Who would have thought that forcing you to ask him for a dance would cause that dreamy look in your eyes?"

Dreamy? No not dreamy. It was just a fond memory, with an easy comforting conclusion. It was just easier that way. Maybe it was okay to take the memory for what it was, enjoy it, consume it until it fell apart against the passage of time. She could dance under a sky full of stars for every night of her life, as long as she woke up at dawn.

As Seifer had taught her, she was too old for daydreams.

Zell got up from his place on the grass and peered at Rinoa's face. "Hmm she's just a bit sleepy, that's all."

Rinoa smiled. "Exactly Zell, you're abso- . . . ." Her words died out as she noticed her instructor approach them.

They quickly sprang into position and saluted her.

Quistis dismissed their salute. "Don't do that anymore, I'm no longer an Instructor."

Zell frowned. "What do you mean Instructor?"

Quistis rolled her eyes. "From now on I'm a level 15 SeeD, you don't address me as Instructor. Here are your updated briefings."

They all nodded.

Quistis stiffened unconsciously as she quickly glanced at Rinoa Heartilly. Had Cid stood beside her, she would see him open up, like a father joining the company of a favorite daughter. The wrinkles by his eyes would have been less deep, maybe the ends of his lips would curl up in a smile that was only reserved for his precious one, his champion.

And like she did so many times, Quistis wondered what it was that made Rinoa so prized in the eyes of Cid. She knew that the Garden Board shared her suspicions whenever Cid took it up as his personal task to monitor Miss Heartilly's progression. She had only been here, what, a year? And already Garden revolved around what Rinoa Heartilly had for lunch and how it affected her scores.

Quistis had never been one to submit to that base emotion called jealousy. Cid had his reasons. What did she care that Rinoa effortlessly attained all the recognition Quistis herself had fought to win all these years.

Big deal

"So there's a slight change in our mission aims," Quistis said, "we are to assassinate President Vinzer Deling."

Ignoring their surprise, she continued. "We will receive further instructions when we reach Timber."

Rinoa's eyes flicked up at the mention of her old hometown. Their silly talk of boys and dancing had momentarily dispelled the dark clawing anxiety creeping under her skin when she found out what their destination was going to be. She tried to tell herself that it was the place she left her daydreams behind, the place that made her grow up. Surely she was old enough to go back now and feel nothing?

Quistis turned to walk towards the parking lot, where their transportation to Balamb awaited them.

Time to go.

"Oh by the way Rinoa," Quistis added casually, as an after-thought, "you're the mission leader."

V.

~ What happened last night? ~

The majestic Centranian crafted door crashed open with bang as a young man swept past in fury. The presidential lounge was empty save for a woman in a black solemn dress sitting opposite a nervous man in a suit. Only the man looked up when Squall entered the room.

His name was President Vinzer Deling, a self-important pompous fool who vainly accepted Ultimecia's offer of service. Believing that he could manipulate the sorceress and her apprentice into doing his bidding, he assigned her as his advisor and now his ambassador. He wanted to make the sorceress dance to his tune, she was to be the puppet that complemented his one-man act. Yet it didn't take long for him to realize that he had traded away his own career and Galbadia's future, to find himself unable to shed the strings she led him by.

"The train will be attacked?" Deling repeated in disbelief. "They know of our arrival then? B-but how? What are we going to do, we have to reschedule our broadcast and … -."

The sorcerer Leonheart leaned against the desk behind the president and his scrutinizing gaze settled on Ultimecia. Folding his arms over his black silk-clad chest, he decided to remain silent for the moment.

"No," Ultimecia interrupted him, ignoring the sudden visitor. "The broadcast will continue as planned. It has to happen now, well before the parade and my official public initiation."

President Deling wrung his tie nervously with his shaking hands. "B-but, that would place me in certain danger Sorceress Edea. If I die, the country will be without a sovereign, imagine that!"

"Imagine that," Ultimecia said sweetly.

His eyes widened. "Lady Sorceress please," he pleaded, beads of sweat trickled down the wrinkles of his face. "Can't we stop them? If I board that train, they'll have me for sure."

"You won't be boarding that train Deling," Squall said impatiently. "You will arrive by helicopter, we just need those SeeDs to think you are on that train."

Relief washed over his wrinkled face. "Oh yes, of course. How foolish of me to t-think t-that, I mean, surely you had . . ."

"Deling, leave us alone," Squall commanded.

Deling shot to his feet in a heartbeat.

"Of course L-l-lord Sorcerer," he stammered as he scurried away.

But just before he disappeared, Deling turned and faced the Sorceress.

"Sorceress, if you don't mind me asking," he said, "what are you going to do with the SeeDs?"

"That sounds an awful lot like a question Deling" Ultimecia said icily.

President Deling swallowed hard. "No, of course not Sorceress Edea. You have my c-confidence in this. Goodbye, see you in Timber."

"Sometimes I think you are right Squall," she said when he disappeared, "Maybe we should have killed him when we took over. Unfortunately the fool has a city named after him."

"Yes well, names can be changed." he said impatiently, "Anyway, you have avoided me all last night. We will talk this time."

Her yellow eyes watched him intently from underneath her long dark lashes, but she didn't respond. Squall stared back, his unfaltering deadly eyes fixed on the sorceress he trusted less with every passing minute.

"Cid told me you knew Edea," he said, "before you claimed her body, you knew her. What does he know that I don't?"

She hesitated before she answered. "He knows no more than you do."

But for Squall her hesitation said it all.

The boy was angry. The gold in his eyes revealed his base emotions. Ultimecia had always loved his eyes when he touched the core of his power during moments of rare passion. Unlike her, whose eyes were always yellow as long as she inhabited this body, it was obvious when his power was rising to the surface. When using his magic in battle or when he became emotionally charged like he was now, his midnight blue eyes would slowly glaze over with a brilliant gold varnish. It was like watching a breathtaking sunrise.

Ultimecia wondered what happened the night before. What triggered this barrage of questions; questions she had hoped had died with the past.

She rose from the sofa so lightly and elegantly that it fooled the eye in believing her to float. The beads of her headpiece clicked together gently to accentuate her motions. She slowly walked closer to Squall who was still leaning against the desk, her questioning eyes now merely inches away from his.

"Why didn't you do your job?" she asked him, had her voice been able to mimic her emotions, it would have been raised in anger, "why did you bring the headmaster here?"

Squall noted the unheard anger and calmly withstood it. "He was playing at something. It's better this way. Garden is disrupted. It's in a state of chaos with the kidnapping of their Headmaster. They'll be forced to concentrate their efforts on investigating his disappearance. All the Garden spies in Galbadia will emerge from the woodwork. It's just a matter of time before some of them blow their cover through hasty unplanned action.

So I've sent him to Desert Prison for questioning for the moment."

"Hmm, indeed," Ultimecia said, "If that really is the case, then I must commend you my Knight, for your presence of mind. If it is as you say, this will greatly benefit our work. After all, that is the most important purpose in our lives, isn't it?"

She raised a finger to his cheek, her black nail scraping across his skin.

"Isn't it?" she asked again, the nail digging a little deeper.

"Yeah sure Ultimecia," he replied, enduring the sting without a change in expression.

"Squall, what happened last night?" she asked, her golden eyes wide and searching. What did you find in Garden?

The cold blue of his eyes swept over her like acid rain.

"I know no more than you do," he replied after her fashion and shrugged her off. He turned towards the door.

Ultimecia called him back. "Are you not staying for breakfast?"

"I have things to do," he answered tersely. "I've arranged a car for you outside, it's ready whenever you are. See you in Timber."

Ultimecia nodded. "Very well. Keep me posted on the situation and make sure Deling doesn't meet anybody but our people before his arrival at the TV station. He has a foul habit of talking needlessly when under pressure."

"Yes Lady Sorceress," he said formally and marched out of the room.

That proud title brought her pleasure usually, but out of his mouth even the lofty things of the world were made mean and frivolous. Sorceress, like he would say gnat or toaster or democracy. Like it was nothing.

Sometimes however, there were those rare moments in private company when the wars and business of the world slipped away behind closed doors. When they were the only two souls left adrift in this world, he would call her Ultimecia. Something happened in his voice when he said her name. It was like he was drawing her back in again. It was only then that he felt like hers again.

But he rarely said her name anymore, even in anger.

Lady Sorceress. Like she was nothing.

Then suddenly, an irrational suspicion jumped to the surface of her mind, like a sneeze caught in her throat, fading as fast as it had come. An image flared bright in her mind. For a moment she saw a scene being played on the stage of someone else's memory. It was the woman trapped within the body she wore – Edea. In her thoughts Ultimecia could see herself dying on the steps of a derelict building. She could hear herself uttering words of the future:

And you will see that your destiny lies not with that sorceress Heartilly or with Garden, but that your destiny lies with yourself.

Well Heartilly had died as a child, Ultimecia had made sure of that. So only garden was left to lure him into whatever destiny had set for him. But she had made sure that Squall detested Garden, more than he detested her. She had laid bare all their crimes, future and past. If there was a chance of destroying Garden, Squall would leap to it before anyone else. And when moved, there was no greater, more terrible power than the Lord Sorcerer.

Still, despite their shared conviction, Ultimecia couldn't abandon this arresting fear that she was about to lose him to something.

Something greater than herself.