Chapter 11
It was starting to become a nasty little addiction, this new habit of his. He knew it was only hurting both of them. His very presence seemed to make her restless, even in her sleep. Was it animosity she felt toward him, anger that severed the peculiar connection between them that so eluded his comprehension? Or was it his fault, for pushing her away? Putting distance between them was the right thing to do, he was certain, and yet, like someone hopelessly dependant on the simple essence of her being, he found himself back here, watching over her once more as if in a protective manner. He hated himself for it.
If she breathed a single word about her discovery to the police, they would find out, and they would find her, within a matter of days, no doubt. As much as he hated to admit it, the thought scared him. To lose her... when did this woman begin to mean so much? What was it about her that made him reveal himself to her anyway? Why had he wanted to know this woman on a personal level?
"I hope you know . . . that I could never hate you Squall, no matter what you think of me."
The words echoed in his mind, refusing to leave him in peace. Such an innocent confession... she couldn't possibly know how those simple words made him feel. She claimed she couldn't hate him, and yet, she didn't know who he really was. Would her promise still stand if she knew the truth? No, it was more than he could ever hope for to have someone accept him after the sins he'd committed. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and gently traced the curve of her face, allowing himself the forbidden pleasure of touching her in this one moment when she would never know. He was not worthy of someone like her, yet he couldn't let her go, clung to her faith in him and her kind words like it was the only thing he had left in that world.
He brushed back her bangs, and she sighed peacefully, suddenly sinking into a deep and relaxed slumber, as if all she needed was his touch to put her mind at ease. He didn't want to think about it that way. Never in his life did he have the kind of problem controlling himself and his desires as he did now, and he certainly didn't want to fuel the fire. To even consider the idea that she wanted him put far too many thoughts in his head that didn't need to be there.
Lost to his mind, he didn't notice that she was stirring, his hand having slowly withdrawn from her forehead. Through blurry eyes she gazed up at him, panic clenching in her chest before her eyes adjusted and she realized it was only her unfriendly ghost. He seemed to be a part of another universe, looking at her, yet seeing through her, or not quite seeing her at all. His hand was paused in mid air, as though he were frozen just as he was reaching out to touch her. She was afraid to ask, but she had to know...
"What are doing here?"
As soon as the words left her mouth, the man before her disappeared in a silver haze, like an illusion or dream that existed only to her mind. She knew better, though. The moody specter had been caught doing something that he didn't want her to know about, and had fled. She shook her head, and wiped the sleep from her eyes before rising from her bed. She wasn't about to let him get away with it that easily.
Finding him was more of a challenge than usual, as she could no longer feel his presence within the house. She wasn't sure what it was that bonded the two, but it saddened her to know that it was gone. Was he really that angry? Did he really hate her that much?
It was just like him to do something clever like hiding in plain sight. She stumbled through the living room, eyes searching every corner, yet, in the darkness she didn't see him at all. She would never have known he was there if he hadn't spoken before she left the room.
"What do you want?"
"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, edging closer to his spot by the window. "What were you doing in my room?"
"I was never there. You were imagining things."
"It's not nice to lie to a lady, Squall," she retorted and tried to place a hand on his shoulder. It passed through, and she quickly snatched her hand back, as though she had just reached a hand into a flame. It unnerved her when he did that, and she was sure that was the very reason he chose not to take solid form. Every time that happened, it only reminded her again of what she so desperately wanted to forget, and that was what he wanted. "Were you trying to kill me in my sleep?" she asked, only a small tinge of humor apparent in her voice.
"Yes. That's exactly what I was trying to do."
Rinoa sighed and moved to the window, peeking through the blinds at the silent street beyond. She was weary of the man next to her, fatigued from the sleep that she'd lost over him, and reluctant to face the issue at hand... still, it couldn't be ignored.
"I want to know the truth," she said after a moment's hesitation. "I know you don't want to tell me, but... I deserve to know. I'm part of this now, I'm involved in your life whether you like it or not." She turned to look at him, her eyes now glittering as they reflected a desperate longing to understand the man beside her. "I need to know."
"I take it your not talking about me being in your room?"
"No, I'll let that one slide for now. I want to know... what makes you so afraid. I want to know what you think is so horrible that you could never be forgiven. I need to know, Squall."
"I can't tell you, and you have to understand that. Any bit of information puts your life in danger." He paused, running his fingers through his hair as he struggled with his feelings. "Don't think I care or anything. If you were gone it would make things a whole lot easier on me. But..."
"My life means so little to you?" she interrupted. "It's not me you're worried about it, is it? You just want a clear conscience about it. You don't want the burden on your shoulders..."
"Yeah," he lied. "That's it exactly."
He was talented at the art of deception. Most of his life, after all, had been built on lies and distrust, and it was something that he had come to accept, something that no longer made him uneasy. Yet, after all the years and all the lies that passed his lips as easily as if it were the truth, it took all he could do to lie to her now, and all the will power he possessed not to take it all back as he saw the tears that formed in her eyes. He had to keep reminding himself that it was for her safety.
"What have I ever done to you?" she asked after a moment, her voice barely audible as she turned her back to him.
He didn't have an answer for that. She'd done nothing but put her faith in him, tolerate every terrible thing he'd ever said or done to her. He couldn't formulate any untruth that would answer her question. So, instead, he just remained silent.
She turned to him, her usually amiable expression twisted into one of sorrow and anguish. "I don't care," she murmured, voice broken and trembling. "I don't care what you think of me, or how you feel. I'm the world's biggest fool, I know, but I can't... I won't leave you. I still care about you, and I can't stop... no matter how much it kills me inside."
She walked away, tears burning sparkling paths over her porcelain skin that were painfully visible to him as they glittered in the dim light from the street lamp outside. He couldn't describe the feeling he felt just then, as if someone had taken piece of his soul and run away with it, a feeling, that the thing that mattered the most to him was quickly slipping through his fingers, and if he didn't do something fast, he would never be able to regain it. He couldn't stop himself from walking after her, or sliding his arms around her when he finally caught up. It was a desperation that he didn't understand but felt to its fullest extent that drove him back to her. Yes, like a man hopelessly addicted, he couldn't seem to stay away.
Blinding light cut through the darkness, melting away the illusions that plagued her memories. It could only have been a dream. There was no other way possible for such a thing to have happened. His arms around her... everything beyond that was a blur, but it didn't matter. He had rarely touched her willing, and never out of kindness.
The sunlight streaming through the cracks in her blinds begged her to open her eyes, annoyingly persistent as though there were actually something out of the ordinary to see. She caved in, allowing her eyes to flutter open. There was an arm rested comfortably in the curve above her hip. So, it wasn't all a dream.
"I don't understand you," she whispered. "One minute, you act like you hate me, and the next... you do something like this." She covered his hand with her own, absent-mindedly playing with his fingers while she wondered aloud. "Are you asleep?"
"I don't sleep," responded that familiar, low voice from behind her that made her shiver. "You don't have to understand. It's not like I-"
"Care or anything?" she finished, still exploring his significantly larger hand with gentle brushes of her own fingertips. "I don't think I believe you anymore. Why are you here? Why were you here last night?"
"I'm here now because you wouldn't stop crying and you wouldn't let go of me. Every time I thought you'd fallen asleep, I'd try to get up, but you'd pull me back, until I finally gave up. You're really clingy, you know that?"
She abandoned his hand, running her own up his now bared forearm. He'd taken his coat off, apparently. "If you don't sleep then what did you do this whole time?"
"I was thinking."
"About what?"
"Everything that's happened recently. I've been trying to figure out what I can say to make you forget about all of this."
"You're wasting your time, then. I'm only trying to help, you know," she replied. Her eyes caught a flash of color on the underside of his forearm and turned it over, revealing an intricate ink design. Black markings swirled and curved into the shape of a lion, but the skin there was not smooth, instead it felt rough like an old scar. Red ink painted flames around the fearsome creature, and along the lion's feet there were markings, or letters that she couldn't decipher. "What's this?"
"What does it look like?" he asked, quivering as she lightly traced her nail along the colored paths.
"I never thought you'd be the kind of guy to get a tattoo. It looks good on you, though... It seems like... I've seen it somewhere before," she said and strained to recall where she'd seen the image before, but could draw nothing but a blank.
"I'm sure you're mistaken," he retorted and quickly snatched his arm away from her before sitting up on her bed. "If you're through crying, I'll leave now."
Before she could protest, he disappeared from her room, leaving her alone once more. Rinoa sat up, drawing her knees to her chest, and shook her head. "I don't understand you, Squall. I'm not sure I ever will."
He couldn't help but stare at it, his eyes following the route her fingers had made upon his scarred skin. He remembered perfectly what it stood for, everything that it entailed.
"Loyalty. Above all else, loyalty it the most important. A lion never betrays his pride. This will be there to remind you of that, always."
He stared straight ahead, focusing all his attention on a certain spot on the wall. If he didn't concentrate, he would flinch, and flinching was a sign of weakness. If he showed the slightest bit of remorse or regret, the pain would end, but so would the initiation. He would be on his own again.
"We'll protect, Squall. We'll stand by you. Our life is your life, and your life is ours."
The blade continued to glide along his skin, burning a crimson trail along his forearm. From the corner of his eye, he could see the man next to him hard at work, angling his knife precisely, so that the art it created would be perfect. It was hard to see the vision he worked so hard to create. It was marred by the rivers of blood...
"This is a blood oath. You will pledge your life to us, and in turn, become our brother. We will be one and the same. We will work as one entity, toward one common goal. We trust only each other. This is the blood oath of brotherhood."
The knife was dropped, and white clothed was quickly draped over his arm. Pressure was applied to slow the bleeding, and the wound was cleaned to prevent infection. Still, the amount of blood loss he had already suffered made him dizzy, and for several long moments, he wondered if he would die. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. His fair-haired mentor was smiling at him.
"Don't worry, we won't let you die. As soon as it's healed up, we'll finalize your mark of brotherhood." That smile, black as sin itself, grew as his emerald eyes glittered. "You're one of us, now. No matter where you go, no matter what you do... you'll always be one of us."