Chapter 8: Rack and Ruin

Squall awoke in darkness, pain pounding in his head. Groaning, he put his hand up and felt the growing knot on the side of it. He'd obviously hit it when the garden had crashed. He knew it had, he'd heard it. He whispered a cure spell and the pain faded away. The physical pain did, anyway.

Rinoa…

She was gone. They'd taken her. Despite his best efforts, his plans, his preparations… He'd failed her. He had failed her. He wanted to scream, cry, and rail at uncaring fate. He wanted to smash things, rend and destroy. He wanted to kill.

Instead, he did nothing. He lay, staring at the darkness, feeling completely empty. He reached for Rinoa and found a blank spot where her presence had once been. A barrier. She wasn't dead, he knew that; they'd been true to their word that they would not harm her. It was small comfort however.

And there was nothing he could do. Even if he got out of the elevator, and he knew that he could, he had only to find the trapdoor and climb out as he had done once before; even if he got out, he was trapped by the storm. While the hurricane raged outside, Squall could go nowhere. Do nothing.

And then there was Selphie. He closed his eyes as a fresh wave of pain washed over him. He had to call Irvine and let him know that his wife was dead.

He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and turned it on. No signal. He cursed in impotent rage and flung it against the wall of the lift, shattering it. Then he finally collapsed and let the tears come.


Selphie heard the door close and a car start up, and felt safe enough to take a deep breath. But she couldn't. The pain burning in her chest was too great. She had heard Rinoa's sobs as they took her away, had heard her purse drop. She knew then that Rinoa had seen her open her eyes briefly and knew that she was still alive. For the moment anyway.

When she'd been shot Selphie's instinct was to get up and keep fighting, but realized very quickly that nothing would be gained by her throwing away her life. So she played dead instead, lying as still as possible to give their attackers the impression that they had killed her. Unfortunately, she was bleeding badly enough that it would soon be a correct assumption on their part unless Selphie did something about it.

Groaning, grunting from effort, Selphie rolled over and reached a trembling, blood-smeared hand toward Rinoa's purse. Dragging it toward her, she opened it and fished out the two bottles of potion that Rinoa had put in there.

Opening one of the bottles, she drank down the contents and sighed, closing her eyes and lying back for a moment, letting the potion do its work. A cool tingle spread from her stomach outwards, salving her pain, healing her wounds. Only one of the bottles was needed to heal Selphie. Apparently, the potions that Rinoa stocked were very powerful.

Taking a deep breath, and reveling in her ability to do so once again, Selphie sat up and placed Rinoa's purse on her lap, searching the contents. After digging around a bit, she found what she was looking for and pulled out the keys to Rinoa's car.

Pulling the purse straps over her shoulder, Selphie carefully got up. The silence in the house was eerie, made even more so by the fact that she was the only living occupant. Locating her nunchakus, Selphie picked them up, placing them carefully back into the special sleeve she had in her boot.

Then she scanned the room. Bullet holes marred the tiled backsplash in the kitchen; both the patio doors and the windows in the living and dining rooms were shattered. Glass shards were everywhere…. and so was blood. It was spattered on the walls, pooling in huge crimson stains on the carpeting in the living room, congealing in scummy ponds on the wood-floored dining room. It took Selphie several minutes to realize that despite all of the blood, there was only one body left lying in the house. Apparently, whoever it was that had taken Rinoa, had also taken the time to bring their dead and wounded with them as well. Leaving nothing behind that could be used to track them down.

The body that had been left behind was Angelo. Tears flooded her eyes as Selphie walked over to where he lay, sniffling as she knelt down next to him and stroked her hand over the soft fur of his ears one last time before she broke down into heartbroken sobs.

She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth, shuddering and gasping as the sobs wracked her. She didn't try fighting the tears; there was no one there to be strong for, and no reason to hide them. She had done her best. She had tried to protect Rinoa, and had nearly died doing so.

It didn't make her feel any better to know that despite her efforts, she failed in the one personal favor that Squall had ever asked of her.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to wrap her arms around Irvine and cry like there was no tomorrow.

But she also knew that she was sitting in the middle of a crime scene. Whatever evidence was there needed to be obtained and processed as soon as possible or it would make finding Rinoa and bringing her home that much more difficult.

Sniffling, she wiped at her eyes and took a deep, shaking breath, trying to calm herself as much as possible. She needed to make a phone call.

But she didn't call the police. This was a SeeD matter. Pulling Rinoa's phone from her purse, Selphie called her husband.

When he picked up, a fresh round of tears flooded her eyes and caused her voice to shake as she said, "Irvine? Honey, it's me. I…" her voice broke on a sob. "I need you…"


Squall sat up and leaned his head back against the wall of the elevator, wiping his eyes. He felt like a fool, despite the fact that he was completely alone. But he wasn't given to emotional outbursts, and tears…well, he never cried. Or, almost never. The last time had been on Rinoa's behalf as well, when she'd still been in a coma after they'd fought against Edea and won.

Funny how she could draw emotions from him that no one else could. But that was why he loved her so much. She was proof that he wasn't so damaged emotionally that he couldn't care for someone else. She was his evidence that he did in fact have a heart and could learn how to love. And within her, slept evidence of his very existence.

To have that taken away… What man wouldn't collapse, at least momentarily, into tears?

But tears served no practical purpose. They didn't make him feel better. His head ached, his eyes burned and his nose ran. They couldn't bring her back. That was supposed to be his job. The real hell of it was, he couldn't bring her back either. He was trapped inside a box in a crashed garden that was currently being savaged by the most powerful hurricane that the world had ever seen. Even deep within the elevator shaft, he could hear the wind shrieking, feel the garden shuddering at its power. He couldn't do anything until the storm had passed.

His heart sank as he realized it could be days, weeks even, before he could even leave Balamb to go look for her. The trail would be long cold by then, virtually impossible to follow. It didn't matter to him; he'd spend the rest of his life looking for her if he had to.

Meanwhile, sitting alone in the dark was accomplishing nothing. And he still had a job to do here. He couldn't help his wife, a fact that ate at his very soul. But there were several hundred SeeDs, cadets, and citizens that were counting on his leadership. He could help them.

He'd never wanted that responsibility; it had been thrust upon him long before it should have, despite Cid's pronouncement that he'd been groomed for it from his first induction into Balamb Garden. But as time had passed, he'd discovered that what he did instinctively, took others years to learn. He'd been born to do this job. Did he love it?

Sometimes. Would he give it up if his wife asked him to? In a heartbeat.

But since the responsibility still rested firmly in his hands, he'd do his best with it. It was the only thing he knew how to do, the only way he knew how to be.

All of this brought him back to one very practical concern. He was trapped, and couldn't count on rescue. He had to get out himself. And while he'd managed to escape once before without too much difficulty, there was one very telling difference in his current situation. He couldn't see.

There was no light whatsoever; that meant that there was no emergency power either. Squall had good night vision, but not this good. And climbing down the elevator shaft by feel alone bordered on insane impossibility. So, he had to find a light source.

Then he needed to find a way to restore power to the Garden. They couldn't move, not while the storm still raged, and maybe not for a long while after, depending upon the damage it sustained. But he knew that if nothing else, everyone else in the Garden would feel better if the lights were on. And if there were any injuries sustained during the crash, they would be easier to deal with if one could see them.

Faced with a situation outside of his control, Squall fell back onto what he could control; what he could deal with. The pain, the grief at losing Rinoa, Selphie, even Angelo (those fuckers KILLED MY DOG!), his resulting rage and frustration at being unable to do anything about it; he shoved it all into a corner of his mind and locked it away. It was the only way he could function at least semi-normally.

With the emotional pain set aside for the nonce, cool rationality took control, and Squall stood up, trailing his fingertips along the wall until he found the doors to the lift. Continuing across the doors to the other side, he found the control panel. Moving his fingers lightly over the buttons, he continued downward until he found what he was looking for.

A handle. Grasping it, Squall pushed inward and pulled up, gaining access to the emergency kit. It was difficult finding what he needed by touch alone, but eventually, he located the light sticks.

Snapping the small capsule in the stick he held, Squall shook it, mixing the chemicals within it and activating it. Cool, yellow-green light radiated from the stick, chasing away the darkness.

Slinging it over his head by the cord threaded through the end, he allowed it to fall, resting against his chest, leaving his hands free. Searching through the kit again, he found and appropriated several others, sticking them in his pockets. Then he pulled out the rope and rappelling gear that was stashed in the bottom of the kit.

Now that he could see, Squall located the emergency hatch in the floor and opened it. The inky darkness of the shaft greeted him, but the light from the stick dangling from the cord around his neck chased it back a little. Enough for Squall to see the rungs of the ladder running down the side of the shaft.

Squall looped the rope around the railing that ran along the interior of the elevator cab, making the knot tight and leaning his full weight on it, bouncing and tugging until he was satisfied. He put on the harness and looped the rope through it, securing the end. If he should slip, it should reduce the chance of the sudden stop at the end of the fall ending up a fatal one. Carefully, he climbed through the hatch, holding on until his feet found the rungs of the ladder. Working his way down, he finally was able to reach the topmost rung with one hand, supporting himself with the other until he was fully secure on the ladder.

Then he began climbing down into the yawning blackness below.


Rinoa was silent during the journey she was being forced to undertake. It hadn't been hard to do; none of the men "escorting" her had tried to initiate any conversation.

She could have just as easily been a lamb being led to slaughter, for all the care they gave her.

Oh, they hadn't been rude, or rough. They seemed mindful of the fact that she was in a rather delicate state, and that their orders had been to deliver her unharmed to wherever they were taking her.

Since she seemed to be marginally more valuable to them than lamb chops on the hoof, maybe a better analogy would be delivering a dairy cow to the calving shed. She snorted inwardly. The "cow" part was certainly more accurate, given her current shape.

Then chills traced up her spine as she realized that that was exactly what she was to them. Their entire attitude toward her had been coldly efficient and businesslike. No compassion at her fear and pain, no anger at her for the men she'd killed while fighting them. No unnecessary emotions of any sort, either towards her or about her.

They had rendered her helpless by using the Odine bangle, and once safe, had given her a quick once-over, checking her for any injuries... and hidden weapons. But aside from the occasional order, phrased as a polite request, no one had spoken to her or attempted to interact with her. And the more attention she paid to their behavior and treatment toward her, the more it resembled the way one would behave when handling a high-strung, very valuable brood animal.

You don't initiate conversations about the weather in Balamb to a dairy cow.

They were currently on a train somewhere between Timber and Fisherman's Horizon. The trans-oceanic railway had been reconstructed, and train service between the two continents restored. And despite the vagaries of marine weather patterns, even ran more often than not. A testament, no doubt, to the sheer hubris involved with constructing a railway bridge that spanned an entire ocean to bridge two vastly different continents.

There had been some concern amongst her captors that the hurricane currently savaging Balamb had caused some damage to the line, but it had passed by FH, leaving little more than a drenching in its wake.

Rinoa stared out the window at the monotonous expanse of water that they were currently traversing, and tried not to think about what was happening in Balamb and how Squall was doing. Unfortunately, she had little to do but think, and her mind automatically reached toward her husband…to meet the barrier raised by the bangle.

She crossed her arms over her stomach and blinked away tears. She'd already cried far too much today. Her eyes were still burning, and her nose was still clogged. The thought of wiping her nose on her sleeve made her recoil, and she was damned if she would ask her captors for anything, though she would eventually have to use the restroom and would likely need to ask permission to go.

Wiping at her eyes, she sniffled a bit to clear her sinuses, and was surprised when a tissue appeared.

Slowly, she took it from the young man who offered it, watching him warily as she did. His expression didn't give much away, but it seemed to her at least that this man saw her as something more than mere baggage. She didn't want to trust it however, not sure of what to make of this seemingly kind gesture. It could simply have been an attempt to be nice, or more likely; he'd done it to keep her quiet.

Whichever it was, Rinoa was grateful for at least that much consideration. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, taking a second tissue when it was offered.

"Better?" He asked her.

Rinoa nodded silently, returning her gaze briefly to the view outside of the window. The sense of movement from the train and the featureless, undulating sea beyond the causeway began to have an unsettling effect upon Rinoa's stomach. She took a deep breath, looking away from the window and rubbing her hand over her abdomen in an attempt to soothe the sudden attack of nausea.

"Is everything okay?" Rinoa met the young man's eyes again, wondering if he was actually concerned about her, or simply worried that she'd throw up and make a mess of things.

Is everything okay? Of course it wasn't. She was nearly seven months pregnant with twins, being forced to travel by train across the ocean by men who'd kidnapped her, killed her dog and possibly even her best friend. She had been ripped away from her home and blocked from even sensing her husband's mind and heart. She was emotionally devastated and afraid. She hadn't had anything to eat or drink in hours, and the motion of the train and the view outside the window was making her feel sick. To top it off, she had to go to the bathroom. Badly. No, she wasn't okay. Not by a long shot.

She was tempted to answer the young man's question honestly, at the top of her lungs. But then she decided an outburst of that sort would ultimately serve no purpose but to make things more uncomfortable for her.

Instead, she answered, "I need to go to the bathroom."

The young man nodded and said, "This way please." Rinoa stood carefully, grimacing at the stiffness in her back and knees from sitting for so long. Stretching a little to loosen up some, Rinoa sighed, then followed as she was led toward the lavatory.

As she did, she gazed around, studying the car and its occupants. Rinoa and her kidnappers were the only people there. It was obviously a private car. The décor it sported spoke more of its owner's personality than perhaps he had intended.

While it had plush carpeting and comfortable upholstery, there was little in the way of opulence in its design, and none in the way of personal touches. The colors were an almost sterile scheme of pale icy blue and white, while the seats and other furnishings displayed clean, uncomplicated lines. The overall effect was of cool, impersonal, almost clinical comfort. Understated, unobtrusive luxury. It had to belong to Dr. Odine.

Upon reaching the restroom, Rinoa entered and did what she needed to do, which fortunately did not include throwing up, though she felt perilously close to it.

She splashed cool water onto her face, taking some in her cupped hands and sipping at it. It slaked her thirst at least, though she didn't like the slightly alkaline taste. After washing her hands and patting her face dry, she exited the bathroom to find the same young man who'd shown her where it was still waiting for her.

She sighed inwardly, thinking that at least he didn't feel it necessary to actually accompany her into the restroom and wait outside the goddamned stall.

Of her captors, the only conclusion that Rinoa could draw was that they were mostly Estharian, having recognized the accents, and were either military or military trained. They didn't wear anything that resembled Esthar's military uniforms however, though it was a uniform of some kind. It didn't bear any sigils or anything that would identify its origin, and was a rather drab, dark brown. Private security force perhaps?

Rinoa's speculation was interrupted by an insistent gurgling in her stomach; her hunger was making itself known noisily, much to her embarrassment. Her escort raised his eyebrows in surprise and smiled slightly in amusement

"Hungry?" He asked.

Rinoa made a face, her cheeks warm, answering, "yes." Upon reaching her seat, she sat down with a sigh.

"I'll be right back." The young man said, and disappeared. He returned with a small bottle of orange juice and some crackers. It wasn't nearly enough, though likely all that the fellow could find. It would however help quell the sickness that her rising hunger, dropping blood sugar and the repetitive motion of the train was causing.

Taking it, she thanked the man politely and started nibbling on the crackers, while sipping at the orange juice, and feeling much better as a result. Physically at least.


Irvine pulled up in front of Squall's house with a screech, leaping out of his truck and slamming the door behind him as he raced toward the front door. Upon reaching it however, he froze, seeing the shattered windows; hinting at the similarly shattered life of the current occupants.

Approaching slowly, he ducked his head through the broken window, peering into the shadowy interior of the house.

"Selphie?" he called softly, stepping over the pane and staring around at the chaos.

"Irvy!" Selphie sobbed, flinging herself into his arms. He held her close and rubbed her back as she cried into his chest.

"Shh…I'm here sweetie." Irvine soothed, caressing her hair. He'd gotten a disjointed, sobbing account of what had happened from Selphie when she'd called him. But seeing the actual aftermath of the attack left a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. Running his hand down Selphie's back again he frowned as he felt something cold, wet and kind of sticky. Raising his hand, his frown changed to a gasp of alarm as he saw what it was. Blood.

Pulling back, he looked her up and down, eyes wide, exclaiming, "Selphie! Are you hurt? Baby, why didn't you say anything?" She'd seemed okay but now that he'd gotten a good look at her blood-soaked clothing, he began to truly fear for her.

Snuffling back her tears, Selphie wiped at her eyes and assured him, "I'm fine. Rinoa had stashed a couple of really powerful healing potions in her purse and she dropped it next to me as they led her out."

Irvine sighed in relief and pulled her back into his arms, holding her tightly.

"God babe, you gave me the scare of my life. You're sure you're okay?" he studied her, eyes dark with concern.

"Yeah," she sniffed, then her eyes filled again. "I tried Irvine. I really did. And I failed. I failed Squall, I failed Rinoa, and Angelo…" she took a deep breath, tears sliding down her cheeks again. She wiped them away with a trembling hand.

Irvine tightened his arms around her, feeling his own eyes stinging.

"You did everything you could, Selphie, and you nearly died. You've got nothing to be ashamed of in that." He told her softly.

"What do we do now?" Selphie asked him.

"Whatever we can to help Squall find her." stepping away from Selphie for a moment, Irvine studied the room.

"Didn't Squall have an alarm system installed on the house?" he asked, frowning. The assault, coming violently through the windows, should have set the alarm off and police should have been dispatched automatically.

"Yeah…" Selphie answered, frowning. Then her eyes opened wide.

"They must have disabled it somehow." She gasped.

Then she bit her lip, saying, "It never even occurred to me that the police should have come. I didn't even think to call them. I figured, since it was a SeeD matter, it would be better if I called you. Maybe we could get a team in, collect whatever evidence we can find…"

"I'll give 'em a call. Probably best that the PD didn't show up after all. They'll have taken Rinoa out of the city and likely even the country by now. DCPD wouldn't be able to do much about it then anyhow." Irvine said, pulling out his cell phone.

In no time, Squall's house was swarming with SeeDs, photographing, collecting and cataloguing evidence. Irvine and Selphie both told their stories, Selphie especially wanted to make sure that everything that she'd seen and remembered about the attackers was recorded while it was fresh in her mind.

"Have you managed to reach Commander Leonhart yet?" the SeeD interviewing Selphie asked Irvine.

Irvine shook his head, "No. I tried calling him on the way over, and I tried again about a minute ago, and still can't get through. The hurricane's got them completely cut off up there."

The SeeD grimaced, saying, "I don't envy you, having that conversation with him. I can't even imagine how he'd take it. I know how I'd feel, if it were me…"

"I know. Me too." Irvine said, exchanging a look with Selphie. It was very likely that Squall already knew, but they couldn't operate on the assumption that he actually did.

Several hours later, the SeeDs had gathered everything that they needed for analysis, with Irvine charging them to let him know the results as soon as possible so he could get started on the hunt for Rinoa. He knew Squall would want to be involved, hell, he'd insist on it. But he also knew that personal pride aside; he'd want Rinoa found and brought home as soon as possible, by whatever means it took. Since Squall was trapped and unable to look for Rinoa himself, it was left to Irvine and Selphie to do it for him.

Irvine approached Selphie, his boots crunching through the shards of glass as he crossed the room to where she stood, staring helplessly down at Angelo's body.

Wiping her eyes, she said, "I don't know what to do with him, Irvine. I don't want to just bury him; it wouldn't be fair to Squall or Rinoa. Besides, they're renting this place. When they move back to Balamb he'll be left behind…" she sniffled again.

"I'll take care of it." Irvine said, pulling her into his arms and hugging her.

"How?" Selphie asked.

"I'll take him to his vet and have him cremated." Irvine said. Selphie nodded.

Irvine looked around at the mess left behind, the broken windows, the blood and glass embedded carpeting, saying, "I don't know what to do about the rest of this; it seems wrong to just leave it. But at the same time, I don't want to mess with it in case there's something we missed on the first go-round."

"I know. I don't want any of their things to get stolen either…" Selphie said, frowning.

Looking thoughtful, Irvine made a quick phone call and reported back to Selphie, "The team leader said he'd secure the scene here. Which I'm guessing either means they'll station someone here to guard it, or board up the windows or something. Maybe both."

Nodding, Selphie sighed, "Alright."

Caressing one of her cheeks, Irvine suggested softly, "Why don't you head back home and have Dr. Curran check you out?"

"I'm fine…"Selphie protested.

"Humor me. I just want to make sure you don't have any bullets still stuck in you, okay? I know the potion healed you, but I just want to make sure you're okay. Take Squall's car, I'll catch up with you later." Irvine said.

"Okay. I'll see you later. I love you." Selphie said, kissing him.

Irvine kissed her back, crushing her body against his, knowing how close he'd come to losing her and deeply grateful to Rinoa for thinking of dropping those potions within Selphie's reach. He didn't have the same, soul-deep connection to Selphie that Squall had with Rinoa, and Irvine couldn't imagine what his friend was feeling right now, assuming he was aware of the events that had transpired. But he knew how he'd feel if he lost Selphie, and so could sympathize with Squall's feelings, if not completely identify with them.

"I love you too baby." He said softly.

After she left, Irvine searched around until he found an old towel to wrap around Angelo's blood-soaked body. Giving the dog's head a final pat, he carefully lifted him up and carried him out to his truck. He hoped Squall would be okay with cremating Angelo. He could decide when he came back what he wanted to do with the ashes, or wait until he got Rinoa back and they could both decide.

It was kind of funny in a cute way, the way Squall had bonded with the dog. Neither he nor Rinoa had thought that he and Angelo would become such good friends. Squall had never had a dog before, so nobody knew that he even liked dogs. Now, he had lost both his wife and his dog.

The whole situation sounded like a bad country song, but Irvine couldn't see the humor in it.

Instead, he felt sad at Angelo's loss, both relieved and slightly guilty that Selphie had survived the attack, and worried about Rinoa and the babies. He hoped that Squall was doing okay in Balamb and could find his way back soon. He wanted to start looking for Rinoa as soon as possible…. but it didn't seem right to do it without Squall.

Hang in there, buddy. Irvine thought as he brought the dog into the vet's office. We all need you back, Rinoa especially. Come back soon so we can get these bastards…


As Squall was climbing down the elevator shaft, it suddenly occurred to him that he had no clue where, exactly, he needed to go first. Go back up to the flying bridge where Nida and Quistis were? Nida knew the technical specs of Balamb Garden better than anyone outside of the FH mechanics that had repaired it. How would he get past the elevator to get to them though? The elevator car blocked the shaft completely, and Squall couldn't get around it. Not from inside the shaft, anyway.

Another option was to head to his office and get the technical schematics that he had on file there. He needed to get his gunblade too. If he had to go back down to the MD level, he wanted to be prepared for the creatures that lurked down in the belly of Garden.

When Squall judged he'd climbed down far enough to reach the floor below where the elevator had stopped, he began looking for the access door. It wasn't long before he found it. Hooking an arm through one of the rungs of the ladder for support, he opened the door and pulled himself through the portal.

He untied the rope, letting it fall, and thought about taking off the rappelling harness as well. Then he reconsidered, thinking that he'd be doing a lot of climbing up and down narrow, dimly lit shafts and the like. He was going to need a lot more rope, and knew he wouldn't find it in his office.

Holding his light stick up to illuminate the hallway he was in, Squall nodded in satisfaction at finding himself on the level he needed to reach his office. He padded silently down the hallway toward it, wondering where everyone else was. He thought Cid at least might have been in his office. But there didn't seem to be anyone about at all.

Unlocking the door, Squall paused, feeling the Garden shudder at another powerful blow from the hurricane shrieking outside. Studying the tumbled disorder in his office, he crossed over to where he'd set his gunblade, buckling it on. As he glanced about, his gaze fell upon his telephone. It, like many of the other items on his desk, had been tossed to the floor when the garden had crashed.

Kneeling down, he picked it up, pressed the disconnect button and listened to see if it worked. He was disappointed but not surprised to find it dead.

Sighing, he headed toward his file cabinet and began looking for the technical schematics and the design blueprints of the garden. Holding the light stick in his teeth to leave his hands free, he pawed through the files until he found what he was looking for.

Laying them out on his desk, he squinted in the dim light cast by the stick he still held in his mouth, looking first of all for a route to the flying bridge, then from there, a means to restore power to the garden.

Folding them up, he stashed them in the inner pocket of his uniform tunic and left his office. He was halfway down the hallway toward the access panel he was looking for when he suddenly paused, snorting quietly as he realized that he'd locked his office door when he'd left out of habit.

Holding the light stick high, he slowed down, studying the wall carefully until he found the access panel, really a nondescript door, located to the right of the elevator doors. He frowned, hoping the door didn't have an electronic lock, and then let out a relieved breath when he saw it was a conventional deadbolt-and-knob arrangement. As Commander, Squall had a master key along with the master codes.

Opening the door, Squall peered into one of a network of dozens of tunnels, shafts, and hallways used for maintenance. Dropping the light stick and leaving it to dangle from his neck once again, Squall grasped one of the rungs of the ladder affixed to the side of the shaft, and began climbing upward.

After an eternity in the dark with only the dimming greenish yellow light of his stick to combat it, Squall finally reached the floor above and unlocked the access door and pulled himself through.

Approaching the lift that would take him to the main bridge, Squall simply climbed up the shaft, pulling himself up and onto the main bridge itself.

"Nida? Quistis? You guys okay?" Squall asked, holding the light stick aloft again, looking around the flying bridge for them. The howling of the hurricane was more pronounced here. Nearly deafening in fact.

But whatever protections the shumis had incorporated into the design of the Garden, apparently still held, for the bridge was still intact, despite the raging storm that Squall could plainly see outside. It was nice to know that the shield, if that was what it was that had deflected the incoming missiles when Garden had been attacked four years ago, was still working and was not tied to Garden's main power source. Perhaps it was a permanent, passive spell that only activated when the Garden itself came under physical attack.

Whatever it was, it saved the lives of Quistis and Nida, as well as preventing the Garden from taking too much damage in the crash and from the storm.

Squall frowned, beginning to worry when he did not hear any response or see any movement. Although as loud as the storm was, they'd have to shout to be heard, so if either were injured, they simply may not be able to call out loud enough for him to hear.

He continued looking, the dimming light stick making it harder to penetrate the gloom. Finally however he found them both, crumpled together against the side of the bridge. At first, he thought they were dead. They both were so still they certainly looked it.

Upon closer investigation, Squall was relieved to learn that they were both alive, but badly injured. Fortunately, he was fully stocked with cure spells, one of the preparations he'd made prior to coming in to Balamb. He knew, with a storm the size of the one currently battering them, that he would need them.

Crouching back on his heels, he began casting the spells. Then he waited. Nida woke first, groaning.

Sitting up, he blinked at the light emanating from the stick hanging around Squall's neck, saying, "Squall? I thought you were dead. You ran for the lift, and we crashed…"

"You and Quistis were a lot closer to dead than I was." Squall said.

Nida's eyes widened and he gasped, "Quis…?" He whipped around, to find her stirring. Taking her hand, he helped her up and then pulled her into his arms.

"God, Quis… I thought we were both…" He whispered into her hair. Squall looked away, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at the display.

"Squall?" Squall turned his attention back to them at Quistis' question.

"Squall, what happened?" She asked him softly. Nida tightened his arm around her and watched Squall.

"The hurricane caught us and we crashed." He answered simply, not wanting to get into any detail.

"No, before that." She asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked. He knew what she was referring to, and he did not want to discus it with her. Now was not the time for it, for one thing…. and for another, it was too damn painful.

"Just before the crash, you froze. Your face went dead white and you just stared into space for a couple of heartbeats, then you freaked out and bolted for the lift. What happened?" Quistis asked him.

Squall let out a breath and looked away, covering his mouth with his hand for a moment, before finally answering, "I can't… talk about it. Not right now. We have some more immediate concerns to deal with."

Focusing his attention back to Nida and Quistis, he said, " Nida, I need you to help me figure out how to get the power back on. Quistis, you're going to help keep the oilboyles off of us, because I'm pretty sure we're going to have to go down into the MD level. Aren't we, Nida?"

"Yeah. It looks like we don't even have emergency power right now; the main cutoff switch was probably triggered on impact when we crashed." Nida said.

Squall nodded. He'd figured as much. He doubted that the main generator was damaged at all, as deep as it was in the belly of Garden and as protected as the base had been by its shield.

"So, we go down to the main generator, turn the main switch back on, and reset the breakers, right?" Squall asked him.

"Yeah, but we need to make sure the core isn't damaged." Nida said.

"It shouldn't be. Whatever magical protections the shumis built into this place are still holding, otherwise the hurricane would have sheared the flying bridge right off, taking you two with it." Squall said.

Nida's eyes widened, "I never thought of that. You're right, as powerful as that storm is, the glass should have shattered, and the entire bridge should have been destroyed."

"I'm assuming you have a plan on how to do this," Quistis began.

Squall nodded, and pulled out the schematics that he'd brought with him. Taking out three of his extra light sticks, he activated them. Handing one each to Quistis and Nida, he laid the schematics out in front of them.

"Obviously, with no power the lift is out. So we'll have to climb down. You remember when we had to do that to get the garden moving, right Quistis?" Squall asked her.

She nodded, "I remember wishing we had some rope, those ladders are really treacherous. And we had power then. With just these little light sticks…"

"Right. So, you need to find us all the rope you can, and a couple of rappelling harnesses; the one I've got I pulled out of the emergency kit in the lift." Squall directed her. Quistis immediately left, knowing exactly where to find what she was looking for.

While she was gone, Squall and Nida worked out the route to get to where they needed to go. By the time she had returned, and Squall made sure everyone had junctioned their GF's and stocked the magic they needed, they were ready to go.

They assembled near the access door to the maintenance tunnel Squall had used to reach them, ropes and rappelling gear at the ready. After some discussion, it was decided that Squall would go first, then Nida, and finally Quistis.

Climbing down into the dark again, Squall found he was grateful for the activity. Focusing on survival was a good way to avoid thinking about other troublesome matters… such as how Rinoa was faring at the hands of those who now held her captive. Of course, the ultimate goal was to have the garden and everyone in it in good enough shape that once the storm was over, Squall could leave.

He knew what that would look like, how others would see it. It would look as though he was abandoning his post in the middle of a crisis, an action punishable by court-martial, dismissal, possibly even time in the brig, depending upon the circumstances. Squall didn't care. SeeD was his job. Rinoa was his life. When it came right down to it, she was more important to him.

She would always be more important to him.

In the meantime however, he would do his damndest to restore power to the garden, work with Quistis, Nida, and Dr. Kadowaki to find and care for any casualties, and in general, do what he had to in order to ride out the storm. But the minute it was over and communication with the Ragnarok was restored, Squall was out of there.