"Danielle was a nice girl," Emelda Fontaine said. "A sweet girl. And Florian adored her."

The old woman reached up to adjust the sequined headband in her slightly blue-tinted but otherwise snowy hair. The headband clashed badly with the leopard print dress she wore, but Rinoa knew Emelda didn't care one way or the other. Rumor had it, Emelda had always worn whatever she wanted. The more obnoxious, the better.

"He was in love with her?" Rinoa asked.

"Head over heels," Emelda confirmed. "Now, Danielle had grown up dirt poor. Barely had a pot to piss in when she met Florian. Once upon a time, though, her family owned the biggest and most profitable lumber mill in Timber. When Vinzer Deling ordered the army to torch the forests, the family lost everything. So, as you can imagine, meeting a man like Florian was a dream come true for her."

"When did they meet?" Rinoa asked.

"Well, let me see," Emelda said, thinking to herself for a moment. "Florian must have been about 19 or 20 at the time."

"So it was before the accident."

"Yes," Emelda said. "But I'll get to that."

Beside Rinoa, Squall refilled his tea and offered Emelda another cookie. The woman declined but then changed her mind and helped herself to two more.

"They were in love," Emelda continued. "His mother threw a fit when she found out. Especially after he said he was going to marry her. Naturally, there were rumors about Danielle getting pregnant and whatnot, which only made it worse. It wasn't true, of course, but you know how people speculate."

Rinoa nodded. She tried to picture Florian whole, unbroken. She'd only ever known him the way he was now, and she'd only ever seen photos of him post-accident.

"But Danielle had a little secret," Emelda said. She took a bite of her cookie and looked at Rinoa knowingly. "A big secret."

"She was a Sorceress," Squall filled in.

Ian had never given her the slightest indication he'd been seriously involved with anyone before her. Not with a fellow socialite, and certainly not with a Sorceress. A knot twisted in her chest as she looked to Emelda for confirmation.

"Correct. She was a Sorceress," Emelda said. "Now, Danielle moved to the city when she was 14, following a sister who had done the same the year before."

"So young," Rinoa said. "Why?"

"She didn't have anywhere else to go," Emelda said. "Creditors were about to take the family home and her father... Well, one night, he got up out of bed, shot his wife in the head, then his son Beau Jr. When he came for Danielle, she escaped and went for help. When she returned, her whole family was dead except the sister in Deling City."

Rinoa had heard some of this story before. It was one of those tales that was whispered by the people of Timber. They'd blamed Galbadia for the murder-suicide, not the man who had pulled the trigger and used it as evidence of Galbadia's lack of concern for the citizens of the town.

"Their last name was Wilkins," Rinoa said. "Right? Beau and Reba...?"

"So you know this story," Emelda said.

"I've heard it around Timber."

"Then perhaps you also know that Reba was a Sorceress?"

"I hadn't heard that," Rinoa said. "And If I didn't know, I doubt anyone in Timber knew, either."

"Oh, I suspect they did," Emelda said. "They just didn't mention it, for obvious reasons."

"To protect her and her family," Squall said. "Galbadia would have come after them if they'd known."

"Correct again," Emelda said. "You're as sharp as you are handsome."

Squall just shrugged, sipped his tea and waited for Emelda to continue.

"Danielle took her mother's power," Squall said when Emelda's scrutiny grew too intense. "That's how she became a Sorceress?"

"That's right. She was a scared 14-year-old girl who had just lost her family, her home and everything she knew," Emelda said. "So she got on a train and went to her sister. To get work, Danielle went by an alias and she used a fake ID that said she was 18. She worked three jobs to help make ends meet and wound up working as a courier for Delacroix Industries. She actually was 18 when she met Florian."

Rinoa sat back and tried to process this. It was hard to imagine Florian unbroken, but not so hard to imagine him being head over heels in love.

"He swept that girl right off her feet," Emelda said with a sigh. "Dressed her up in pretty things, gave her expensive jewelry, promised her the whole world. I think he truly meant to marry her."

"What happened to her?" Rinoa asked. "Where is she?"

"Someone got wind of what she was," Emelda said. "Did terrible things to scare her, even left a human heart on her doorstep! Florian hired body guards to look after her when he wasn't around, and sometimes even when he was. He was her Knight, but he was also a soft, spoiled boy who didn't know the first thing about how to defend her. Not that he was afraid to try, but he knew his limitations."

"He was her Knight?" Squall asked.

"He was," Emelda said sadly. "Anyhow, they never figured out who did it, but one night, after they left a party, they took a drive outside the city..."

"The accident? Danielle was the girl who died in the accident?" Rinoa asked.

Emelda nodded, her eyes sad and far away.

"They were followed," Emelda said, "and forced off the road. Whoever did it only stuck around long enough to take Danielle's powers, then left them both to die in that field. Two hours later, a passing farmer found them. Danielle was gone, Florian was barely clinging to life..."

Emelda pressed a hand over her eyes as if to hold back tears. Her whole demeanor collapsed and suddenly she seemed frail and small, instead of the feisty, spirited old lady no one could stand.

"I was fond of that girl," Emelda said. "Very fond. You remind me a lot of her, darling. She might have been poor, but she had a presence about her. Something that made everyone in the room look at her. And such a big heart! Compassionate, smart as a whip, a good head on her shoulders... In spite of what Florian's parents thought, she was perfect match for him, and they loved each other very, very much."

Rinoa thought about the early days with Squall. How deeply, wildly in love they'd been. How he'd looked at her as though nothing else in the room existed. To know it had been that way for Florian and Danielle made her heart hurt. Not out of jealousy but because she knew what losing that felt like.

"Florian's family naturally downplayed the whole story," Emelda said. "They made it out to be a casual fling, just another one of Florian's charity cases. The fact that she was a Sorceress was never, ever mentioned. Not to anyone. As far as I know, the only ones who ever knew the truth are myself and Florian's family. And the sister, of course."

"How did you know?" Squall asked.

Emelda held out a fist and then opened it. In her palm, a blaze the size of a marble burned. Surprised, Rinoa's hand dropped to Squall's knee under the table. He was so startled by the display, he didn't even flinch and instead, covered Rinoa's fingers with his own.

Emelda closed her hand and when she opened it again, a single crimson feather lay in its place.

Rinoa looked at the woman with newfound respect.

"How long have you been..."

"Since I was a little girl," Emelda said. "I don't remember it, dear. I'm too old to go that far back."

"Adel...?" Squall wondered aloud.

"Oh, she tried, darling," Emelda said with a soft laugh. "That didn't go so well. For her."

"Who else knows about you?" Squall asked.

"Besides your father?" she asked. "No one living. Until now."

"...my father."

"You are Laguna's boy, are you not?"

Under the table, Rinoa's hand was still on Squall's knee. His fingers gripped hers lightly and held on.

"...yes."

"We've met before, darling," Emelda said with a nod. "It was some years ago, but I never forget a face. Especially when that face reminds me of another. You look a lot like your father. Except for the eyes. You must have your mother's eyes."

Squall scowled at the comparison but said nothing. The truth was, he looked more like his mother, but to those that had only known Laguna, there were enough similarities, especially now, to see the resemblance.

"Good man, your father," Emelda said. "One of the few people in this world I trust. I know you have your differences, and I won't lecture."

"Thank you," he said.

Emelda produced a scrapbook from a massive handbag, opened it and then placed the book in front of Rinoa.

"There aren't many surviving photos," Emelda said. "Florian's mother destroyed most of what had while he was in recovery. He didn't speak to her for almost two years over that."

Rinoa gazed down at the photos before her. Florian and a lovely young woman with dark hair and dark eyes, both dressed in their ballroom best, gazed at one another with pure, mutual adoration. It was obvious how in love they had been. A second photo was much more casual, Danielle in a pale lavender sun dress and Florian in jeans. His arm was around her shoulders, and both smiled at the camera with big, carefree grins.

In his youth, Florian been tall and sturdy, built more like Seifer than Squall. He'd had broad shoulders and a proud, almost cocky air about him. The top of Danielle's head only reached his collar. She was delicate, petite, but not frail and she'd been very, very pretty.

A third photo was a candid black and white taken of Danielle sitting on a window sill with a view of Deling City in the background. She wore nothing but a man's dress shirt as she stared contemplatively out at the day. There was something haunted in her expression.

"Florian fancied himself a photographer in those days," Emelda said. "He talked about traveling the world taking photos of places no one had ever been. Of all the pictures he took, that was probably his best, and without a doubt, his favorite."

Rinoa sat there, staring at the photo of a girl she would never meet, but understood in a way she hadn't expected. A Sorceress, like herself, subjected to the same kind of horror and torment, hated and misunderstood by those who didn't know her.

As far as Florian went, he was now a stranger to Rinoa. She'd known nothing of his past and had never thought to ask. Nor had he ever bothered to share this with her.

He could have told her the truth. She would have understood. She'd told him everything about her past. He knew about the war and her relationship with Squall and how she had all but sabotaged it in the end. He knew about her mother, and all about her father's coldness and his determination to lock her up until she was thirty. He knew everything there was to know about her. All her secrets and all of her mistakes and all her accomplishments. Everything.

Ian had never once mentioned being in love, or becoming a Knight to a doomed Sorceress.

Squall's fingers threaded through hers under the table as Rinoa gazed down at the photo woman who owned her husband's heart. Ian should have been the one to tell her about Danielle. Ian who should be the one to hold her hand under the table. But he wasn't here.

These tormentors might be the same ones that had killed Danielle. That was reason enough for Florian to be here with her now. He couldn't provide physical protection, but he'd been through this and could have provided emotional support. He knew how powerful the Sorceress-Knight bond was, and what it really meant, yet had left her in Squall's care.

Why had he done it? Florian knew who Squall was to her and how irresistible the bond between Sorceress and Knight. Why had he left her here alone with Squall, if he knew what that was like?

"I don't get it," she murmured. "Why he never said anything."

"I suspect because it hurt too much to talk about," Emelda said. "I can sense that you're suspicious of him, of his motives for leaving you alone with your Knight, but believe me, Florian's not perfect, but he's a good man. The sort that would do anything to make someone he loved happy. Even if it means giving up his own happiness."

Surely she couldn't mean Ian had done this for her sake. He'd said once that he was fine with an affair, so long as she didn't fall in love. Bringing a man that she had loved as deeply as Florian had loved Danielle into the picture was the opposite of that. He must have known. He must have. So, why?

"What am I supposed to do?" she wondered aloud.

"Right now, you do what's best for you," Emelda said. "Don't worry your pretty little head about what Florian's done for you or how he might feel, darling. You need to look out for yourself right now, because the people that are after you, they won't stop until they get you. I can guarantee that."

"Did they ever come after you?" Rinoa asked.

"They never knew about me," Emelda said. "But if they had, they would have probably been too afraid of my reputation to try."

Steven came to check on them and to offer a plate of finger sandwiches. He glanced anxiously at Emelda, then at Squall's hand clasped around Rinoa's under the table.

"Can I interest you in anything else?" he asked. "More tea? Cookies?"

"Thank you," Rinoa said and surreptitiously removed her hand from Squall's thigh. "I think we're fine."

Emelda had grown weary and Rinoa had a lot to think about. Their meeting would soon come to an end, and she had a few questions she wanted to ask before the woman retired to her hotel downtown.

"My advice to you," Emelda said as Steven took away the dirtied dishes. "Don't trust anyone but your Knight. Not these so-called friends of ours, not your staff, and not your husband. I know Florian's a good man. I know that, but... I fear perhaps he's not made the best decisions. You understand what I mean."

"Yes, I think so," Rinoa said as she watched Steven wheel his cart from the room. "Who were the suspects back then? Who do they think did it?"

"Some said it was Florian's mother who arranged the whole thing. You know, give the girl a good scare, chase her off, but it went too far. Others say it's the old Descendants of Hyne cult."

"Descendants of Hyne?"

"Bunch of pathetic wannabe mystics," Emelda said. "About twenty, thirty years back, it was fashionable, especially among the rich, to be part of some occult group or another. Some of the old families are still involved, from what I've heard, but these days no one talks about it openly. A bunch of secret society hooey, if you ask me."

"What do they believe?" Rinoa asked.

"It depends on the day, darling," Emelda said. "For about a year, it was all about how bad meat was for your body, so all these snotty society ladies turned their noses up at perfectly good roast and steak. Then, it was all about organic produce. And then dairy was bad. But before all that, they sometimes believed that the Sorceress was a savior, and other times, the epitome of evil. They were rumored to be led by one for a while, though I suspect that was just some silly woman who managed to get a hold of a GF. None of these people have ever seen real Sorcery or magic, so I'm sure that was the case. Bunch of fools."

"Anyone we know involved in this?" Rinoa asked. "These days, I mean."

"I can't say, dear," Emelda said. "I'm no longer as welcome as I used to be in most circles, but I will say that both the Dumas family and the Kilroy families used to be very involved with the Descendants of Hyne, maybe ten years or more back. As was Florian's mother and some say Florian himself."

Rinoa pondered that for a moment. Was that possible? Florian, a part of some weird cult? It didn't seem to jive in her mind with the man she knew. But, maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought she did.

"There was one other suspect," Emelda continued, "though it was just a rumor and I highly doubt it has any validity."

"Who?" Rinoa asked.

"Florian's mother believed it was Danielle's sister, Lori," Emelda said. "If a Sorceress' powers are not taken through execution, they tend to be passed down through families, to the oldest girl. While it is possible that Lori believed those powers belonged to her, by all accounts, she loved Danielle. Would have died for her, done anything to protect her."

"How do you know all this?" Rinoa wondered out loud.

"I was close with Florian's father before he passed on, friends most of our lives," Emelda said. "Everyone believes my husband Chase was the brains, that he made our fortune, but it was mostly me. Chase was a beautiful idiot. Charming, but stupid. Evan Delacroix was one of a handful that knew that, and one of a handful that knew what I was and he came to me for advice when Florian started seeing Danielle. He told me everything, but by then, it was too late. Florian was a Knight, and there's no backing down from that."

"So it really is permanent?" Rinoa asked with dismay. "The bond?"

"Not even death erases it, my dear," Emelda said gently. "I learned that the hard way. But I don't want to talk about that..."

Tears came to the old woman's eyes and she wiped them away with a soft laugh.

"I'm getting sentimental in my old age, I suppose," she said. "But, I know what it's like. Like to have killed me to be separated from him. Chase may have been stupid man, but he was mine. No one else in the world compared."

"I'm so sorry," Rinoa said. "That must have broken your heart."

"Well, enough about me," Emelda said, snapping out of her melancholy. "What are you going to do?"

"Fight back?"

"Good," Emelda said. She gathered her scrap book and returned it to the huge handbag. "That's exactly what you need to do. Danielle was afraid and it showed. You don't strike me as being particularly intimidated, darling. Even if you are afraid, you go out there and act like you don't give a shit. Make sure they're afraid of you."

Squall reached for her hand under the table. His grip was firm and supportive, as if he agreed with Emelda. A little display of power might be the thing she needed to get them to back off. She could and would fight back, and she was well protected. It might give her the edge she needed to get through this.

"It's been good to talk to you, dear. Please stay in touch, won't you?"

"Of course," Rinoa promised. "I need all the friends I can get."

"That's sweet of you to consider me a friend, darling," Emelda said. "I have precious few of those myself. But that's my own fault for being loud and opinionated and not caring what these people think of me. You'd be wise to adopt that sort of attitude yourself. These wealthy types are terrified of a woman with a spine."

"I'll keep that in mind," Rinoa said with a smile.

Squall helped the old woman to her feet and accepted her pat of gratitude, but gave a startled grunt when that pat extended to his backside.

"Firm," Emelda said with approval. "You've chosen well, my dear."

Rinoa giggled as Squall's face turned red. What she could see of it, anyway.

The woman had guts, and Rinoa was willing to bet, in her younger days, nothing had stopped Emelda from getting what she wanted.

"You're quite cute when you blush," Emelda told Squall affectionately. "Rather like your father in that respect. No leg cramps, I see. Well, at least you didn't inherit that unfortunate quirk."


They walked Emelda to the door and stood side by side on the front steps as they watched Emelda's car drive away. Squall thought about the things the woman had revealed and a surge of uncharacteristic hatred swelled in his chest. Florian Delacroix had known exactly who Squall was when he'd hired him. He'd known who Squall had been to Rinoa, and he'd hired him anyway.

Delacroix must have known how difficult it was to deny the bond. He must have known it was futile to resist, and he must have known how it felt to be the man responsible for a Sorceress' well being and what it felt like to have that torn away.

Squall no longer felt guilty for crossing lines or for touching when he shouldn't. Delacroix had only himself to blame. Not that Squall intended to cross any more lines if he could help it, but he was no longer felt bad about the things that had already happened.

"Squall?" Rinoa murmured as she watched the gates close.

"Yeah?"

"I understand if you want to walk away," she said. "You have Lily to think about and a life outside all of this, so if you don't want to stick around, It's okay. I understand."

His life was mostly work and Lily. There was nothing else, but it was tempting to pack his things, put Lily in the car and leave.

The only thing that stopped him was obligation. No matter what, and whether he liked it or not, he would not rest easy while Rinoa was in danger. If he left, she would be alone in this mess with only Zell and a pair of relatively inexperienced SeeDs to look after her. He trusted Zell, but Zell was bogged down in research, and it would be easy to make a mistake if there was too much on his plate.

"I'm in too deep to walk away now," he admitted.

Rinoa stepped forward and threw an arm around his waist. He didn't push her away when she leaned her face into his chest but instead brought her close. Even though the logical thing to do was back away, Squall let it happen without complaint.

She only stayed for a few seconds, but in that brief embrace, Squall felt whole again. She'd always fit so perfectly in his arms, felt so right standing next to him. For just a second, it was as if years hadn't passed but only minutes. As if nothing bad had ever happened between them and there was only this, only her, and nothing else mattered.

But that wasn't reality. She stepped away and swept her eyes over the grounds.

"Can we go somewhere?" she asked. "Somewhere that isn't here?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere."

"We'll have to take Lily with us."

"I'm fine with that, I just need to not be here."

Squall understood. Her husband had kept important things from her, and being here was just a reminder of that.

"Lily's been bugging me to take her to the museum again," he suggested lamely.

"Perfect," she said. "That's perfect."

"Go get Lil ready and I'll bring the truck around," he said.

Ten minutes later, they pulled away from the mansion in Squall's truck. Lily chattered excitedly about their impromptu visit to one of her favorite places in the city. She'd only been to the museum one other time, but that was enough for her to declare it awesome. Squall was inclined to agree, even if art museums were not in his wheelhouse. Art, and the creation of, were a total mystery to him, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate it.

Lily dragged Rinoa through exhibits and pointed out favorite pieces. Squall followed behind, hands in his pockets and watched the two as they laughed and and whispered together. They stayed until closing time, then returned to the truck.

"Ready to go back?" Squall asked. "Maybe somewhere else?"

"Why don't we grab dinner somewhere?" Rinoa suggested.

Squall was hungry, but he wouldn't have said anything if Rinoa hadn't suggested it. He'd figured he'd just make sandwiches when they returned, but dinner out sounded like a good idea.

"Someone pick a place," he said.

"Oooh, can we go to the seafood place near the docks?" Lily asked. "We haven't been there in a while."

"Sounds good to me," Rinoa agreed. "It's casual, right? Normal people, jeans and t-shirts?"

"It is," Squall said. They were both over-dressed, but that wouldn't matter much. No one cared.

"It's a cool place," Lily said. "They serve everything on paper plates. And they have these spicy fried shrimp that are really good. Squall hates them because they're too hot, but I get them every time we go."

"I don't hate them," Squall protested. "I just think they're too spicy."

"You think black pepper's too spicy," Lily said, rolling her eyes.

Rinoa stifled a giggle and dropped an arm around Lily's shoulders.

"I'm so glad he has you around to keep him honest."

Squall ignored the jab and focused on driving. His mind was still spinning, and he didn't need another distraction.

The restaurant wasn't busy when they arrived, and that suited Squall fine. He wasn't comfortable in places when he had to sit elbow to elbow with people at other tables. A band was setting up outside and a few of the tables on the outdoor patio had been cleared away to make space for dancing.

"Let's sit outside," Rinoa said as she eyed the musicians. "It's nice out."

Squall would have preferred to sit inside, where it wouldn't be so noisy, but he was outvoted. They were seated by the water and Squall breathed in the scent of brine and ocean air. It was fresh and clean, not unlike the air outside the mansion, but it was less heavy in some indefinable way. And he couldn't deny the view of a setting sun was nice.

A long time ago, he hadn't appreciated things like this. It had never really occurred to him to look at a sky washed in color and see something besides the end of another day. Sun up, sun down, work, train, sleep. That was it. These days, maybe because of Lily and maybe not, he could appreciate the way some days died quietly, and others set the whole sky on fire.

He almost laughed at himself for such an artsy, pretentious thought, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the bands of hot pink and neon orange and gold and violet in the clouds.

"Wish I could paint a sky that looked like that," Lily said wistfully.

"Practice," Squall said. "You'll get it."

"Not the same as the real thing," she said. "Not even close."

Squall dropped an arm around her shoulders and turned his attention to the waitress who had brought menus and glasses of ice water.

"Can I have a soda?" Lily asked. "Please?"

"You have school tomorrow," he said. "It's too late to get all jacked up on caffeine."

"What about root beer? There's no caffeine in that," she said. "I checked."

"Fine," he said. "Root beer."

The trick to getting along with kids, he was learning, was to pick your battles. Some things just weren't worth the fight. Though he preferred Lily choose a beverage with less sugar, it was a compromise he could live with.

"I already know what I want," Lily said as she put away the menu. "Spicy shrimp with the honey pepper sauce."

"That's what you get every time," Squall said. "Maybe you should try something different."

"Nope," she said. "It's the spiciest thing on the menu."

"Not everything has to melt your face off when you eat it," Squall teased.

"What's the fun in that?" Lily asked.

"I like to be able to taste my food, thanks," Squall said, mussing Lily's hair. "Weirdo."

"You're the weirdo."

"Says the kid who puts hot sauce on her waffles."

"You two are cute," Rinoa said.

"And constantly in disagreement about how food should be seasoned," Squall said.

"You like what you like," Rinoa said. "Nothing wrong with that."

"See?" Lily said. "I'm perfectly normal."

"If you say so."

"Hey Squall?" Lily asked as she fiddled with a bottle of cocktail sauce. "When can I start dating?"

Squall was floored by this question. It wasn't something he'd thought he would have to deal with or think about for at least a few more years.

"Never, if I have my way," he said and narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Well, this boy in my class, Jake? He was the one building the owl statue when we were doing the tour at school," Lily said. "And he kinda invited me to have pizza with him and his mom some time."

Across the table, Rinoa covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile.

"His mom would be there, so it's not like a date-date, but you know," Lily said, "I'd kinda like to go."

"Tell Jake's mom to call me," Squall said. "And we'll discuss it."

"Really?" Lily asked. She looked up from the bottle of sauce in surprise. "I thought you'd say no."

"I didn't say yes."

It was tough not to put a hand over his eyes and heave a great big sigh at the idea of Lily becoming boy-crazy and wanting to go on chaperoned pizza dates. She was nine, for Hyne's sake. Way to young to be thinking about boys and dating and Squall sure as hell was not prepared to deal it.

Squall hadn't dated until he met Rinoa, but he remembered all the locker room talk. He desperately wanted to lock Lily in a closet until she was in her fifties so that no boy would ever talk about her that way. As it was, he wasn't sure how he was going to handle the puberty conversation. He knew enough to give her the facts, but it was still not a conversation he was comfortable having.

From the looks of things, he might have to walk that plank much sooner than he'd thought. A lot sooner.

There was a bit of pity in Rinoa's eyes as he glanced across the table at her. A sort of knowing look that told him she knew exactly what was going on in his head.

The waitress returned to take their orders, and Squall was grateful for the interruption.

"I'll try the spicy shrimp," Rinoa said, "and could I also get a margarita?"

"Frozen or on the rocks?"

"Frozen."

"Oooh. Can I get one?" Lily asked.

"Absolutely not," Squall said. "You're nine."

"Just kidding."

"We could make one without alcohol," the waitress suggested.

"Really?" Lily asked.

"What happened to root beer?"

"I didn't know they could make those drinks with no alcohol."

Squall was driving, so he stuck with water.

The band started to play, not as loud as Squall expected, and the deck filled with people. Lily and Rinoa chatted while they waited for their food but Squall watched the people around them, mostly out of habit. He needed to be aware of their surroundings, to look out for anything suspicious. Even though he was sure they hadn't been followed, he couldn't be too careful.

When the food did come, there was a lull in the conversation as the girls ate their spicy shrimp and Squall tucked into his plate of lime marinated grilled fish. As usual, the food was good and Squall found himself more relaxed than he had been in weeks.

"You've got something on your face," Lily said to him.

He wiped at his chin but his napkin came away clean.

"Where?"

Lily reached out and smeared a glob of tartar sauce on Squall's nose.

"Right there," she said with a giggle.

He was stunned by this behavior for a second. Then, he turned and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rubbed his nose against her cheek, transferring the sauce back to her. She giggled and tried to squirm away from him, but he held on tighter.

The sound of her laughter did something to him.

For the first time since she'd come to live with him, he didn't feel like a duty-bound uncle but a father. A rush of pure, profound love swept over him as Lily continued to giggle and attempted to smear the sauce back.

I hit him that Lily was his. He might not have been her biological father, and they might not be related by blood, but she belonged to him. Somewhere along the line, he'd begun to think of her as a daughter, and not just the niece who had the misfortune of having landed in his care.

"Goofball," he said as he eased his grip.

Still giggling, she wiggled away and popped a shrimp in her mouth.

"Dork," she teased back.

Squall wasn't sure if it was the new school or his increased attention or a combination of the two, but what a difference it had made. He hoped this wasn't just a passing thing because she'd gotten her way, but a permanent change for the better. It was fun to joke around with her and good to hear her laugh.

"Takes one to know one."

"Yuck. Now I've got sauce on my cheek," Lily complained as she wiped her face with a napkin.

"You started it," Squall reminded her.

They stayed for a while after they'd finished eating. Rinoa ordered another margarita, and Squall got conned into dancing with Lily. He didn't even mind. He indulged her, spinning her through four or five songs before they returned to the table to find a twinkly-eyed Rinoa smiling at them like they were the most precious thing she'd ever seen.

It was full dark out now, but the deck was lit by paper lanterns in festive colors, strung overhead from one end to the other. Warm, soft pools of light dotted everything around them, less harsh than the bright spotlights over the tables inside. On stage, the band switched to old romantic standards, encouraging the lovebirds among them to head out to the floor for a slow dance or two.

"You two should dance," Lily said.

"We should probably be heading back," Rinoa said.

No good could come of a slow dance. Squall already walked a fine line, and having crossed it once, he didn't need more temptation to cross it again. Rinoa must have understood that, too.

He paid the bill and ignored Rinoa's protest that she would take care of it, but he allowed her to leave the tip after a minute or two of debate.

He took the long way back to the mansion rather than driving through town. He wound his way along the coastal road, ocean on one side, steep cliffs on the other and thought of how Delacroix and his Sorceress had been forced off the road and left for dead.

It turned what could have been a quiet, beautiful drive into an exercise in paranoia. Squall couldn't stop looking at the rear and side mirrors to make sure no one followed too close, and he slowed considerably around curves in the road or whenever another driver passed going the opposite direction. If either Rinoa or Lily noticed, they didn't say anything.

By the time they made it back to the property, Squall was thoroughly stressed out by the irrational fear of being followed. He was sure they hadn't been, but the paranoia lingered.

"Bed time, Lil," Squall said. "Go wash your face and brush your teeth."

Whether the evening had worn her out, or she was excited to go back to school, she didn't even protest. It was a relief that for one night, at least, he didn't have to argue. She brushed her teeth and returned to the living room in pajamas, pressed a kiss to Rinoa's cheek and then let Squall tuck her in.

"We should do stuff like tonight more often," Lily said. "We had fun, didn't we?"

"We did," Squall agreed as he brought the blanket up around her shoulders. "Get some sleep, kiddo."

Squall tested the patio doors and ensured they were locked before he turned out the light. The doors wouldn't hold if someone wanted to get in, but they would make a lot of noise if someone tried.

Why he was so paranoid, Squall couldn't say, but he couldn't shake the idea that there was a target on his back. And if he was in danger, by extension, so was Lily.

"Squall?" Lily asked, sitting up. "What are you doing?"

"Just checking," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

"You're acting really weird," she said.

"It's fine," he promised. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and turned out the lamp. "Night, kid."

"G'night Da-Squall."

Rinoa was curled up on a plush recliner on the deck, the patio doors opened to let in the breeze. She'd wrapped herself in a thick, soft cardigan and stared up at the clear night sky.

Squall made himself a drink and then joined her. He needed to call Seifer to fill him in, but Squall couldn't bring himself to discuss everything they'd learned from Emelda. He sipped his drink and relaxed into the recliner.

Rinoa owed Delacroix a call as well, but she appeared just as reluctant as he was to pick up the phone. It could wait for morning, after they'd both had time to process it.

"Why would he do this, Squall?" Rinoa wondered out loud. "It seems almost cruel. I mean, he must know exactly how this works."

"I don't know," Squall said. "I can't speak for him."

"I'm just trying to figure out why," she said. "Why lie to me? Why not tell me the truth? Why bring you in to this at all? Just to protect me? Or is it something else?"

Squall couldn't answer these questions for her. He didn't know the answers any more than she did, though they'd been on his mind too. He hadn't filled her in yet on the possible involvement her father had with the whole mess, or the possibility that Delacroix was having an affair. Given today's information overload, Squall didn't think dumping more on her was a good idea.

Tomorrow, maybe. Once the dust had settled.

"I feel like I don't know him at all," she said. "We always said we'd tell each other everything."

She sighed and looked at her phone. She shook her head and slipped it back into the pocket of her cardigan.

"I've been thinking about running away all night," she said. "About packing a bag and getting on a train to Timber. Just leaving and never looking back."

"I don't think that's the best solution," Squall said. "You ran away before, remember?"

He hadn't meant to sound quite so harsh. She winced at his tone and returned her gaze to the star filled-sky above.

"I know. But... Am I an ungrateful brat? Be honest."

"You were always a brat."

"What about ungrateful?"

"...sometimes."

He thought of those last months together and how much pressure there had been on him to cut ties with her. The strain on their relationship had made her angry and often ungrateful for what little time he could make with her.

"You could be ungrateful when you didn't get your way."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I... I don't think I really understood how hard you were fighting for us. All I could see was you not being there... You never explained it and I'm sorry if I behaved like a spoiled brat."

She got up and went to the railing. The breeze was strong and her hair streamed behind her like dark ribbons as she leaned forward to take in the ragged coastline below. Squall sipped his drink and watched the way the breeze whipped the silk of her dress around her legs.

"If I wasn't married anymore," she said, "would there be a chance for us?"

The question wounded him. It conjured up images of all the easy domesticity of their early days together.

Rinoa, in bare feet and shorts, sweeping the wood floor of the living room as she sang along with silly pop songs that drove him up the wall. The petunias she'd planted in window boxes, then forgot to water. The way she'd burned a hole in his uniform with the iron and how he'd gotten some kind of subversive pleasure from having a valid excuse not to wear it. Take out dinners in paper bags after he'd run too late to make a reservation. Of fixing the squeaky cabinet under the sink and light bulb replacement. Pints of ice cream shared while they watched some unrealistic romantic comedy and laughed at the cheesy dialogue.

At the time, it had all seemed so unimportant. Now he knew better. Every second they'd had together mattered and not a second of it was a waste.

How seamlessly Lily would fit into that domestic life. Rinoa could be both a sister and a mother, something Lily sorely lacked. She could lift some of Squall's burden as a parent and give Lily the stability he was not able to provide alone.

There was a chance.

But there were so many factors to consider. She was still married, and Squall was still hurt and angry that she'd left him. Even if she left Florian Delacroix tonight, Squall wasn't willing to risk Lily's happiness for his own needs. And if it didn't work out, Squall wouldn't live through losing her again.

"You're married, so your question is irrelevant."

"What if I left him?" she asked as she turned around to face him. "Right now. Tonight. Would you go with me?"

"No."

"You wouldn't?"

"One, you'd still be married," he said as gently as he could, though he could do nothing to hide his bitterness. "Two, Lily's just now starting to come around and, I'm sorry, but her happiness is far more important to me than anything else, including my own. And three, what makes you think I've forgiven you enough to want some kind of future with you?"

Rinoa winced as though he'd hit her and turned away to stare at the ocean.

She'd just assumed that if she wasn't married, that if she ran, he would go with her. Like he had no other obligations but her.

Damn her for that. Damn her for just expecting him to drop everything, as if he hadn't already done that to be here now. She had created most of the mess she was in, and he had little sympathy for her dissatisfaction with her life. She had chosen to marry Delacroix, whatever their relationship, and too damn bad if she wasn't happy with the lifestyle that went along with that.

"You just assumed," he said. "Like always. It was always about what you wanted. What you needed. And nothing's changed. Nothing at all."

She stifled a sob and her shoulders drooped, but she didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry that hurts your feelings, Rinoa," he said. "But it's the truth."

"That's not the truth," she said. "Not even close."

"Why are we still discussing this?" he demanded. "You and I are done, Rin. We've been done for a long, long time, and that was your choice."

She turned her eyes on him again and let out a soft, scoffing laugh.

"That's also not the truth," she said. "...you and I will never be done, will we?"

For nearly half a minute they stared at one another. Heavy, awful emotions passed across an invisible tether from one the other and Squall could neither stand it nor shut it off. She got his resentment and anger, and Squall received her regret and frustration at getting herself trapped in a situation she no longer wanted to be a part of.

Well, that was her own damn fault. And she was right. They would never be done. Not now, not ever, and that was a fact that he did not want to face, no matter how true it may have been.

"I wouldn't have let you make that promise back then if I'd known..." Rinoa said. "You know that, right?"

He folded his arms over his chest and broke eye contact.

"I would have made it anyway."

"Why?"

"Because I loved you. That's why," he said quietly. "Because I suddenly saw a future where I wasn't alone."

"And I took all that away when I left."

Squall didn't answer. He downed his drink and went back inside for another.

There was a small part of him that wanted to run away with her anyway. That remnant of days gone by was louder than logic or reason. Half of it was the bond and obligation to protect her and keep her mentally and physically sound as long as he had breath in his lungs. The other half was because after everything, he still loved her.

He stared at the wall as he sipped his drink and wondered why he still believed he could resist.

What was the point of fighting it?

He still belonged to her. And he always would.