Chapter 6

Chapter 6

By Silver Dolphin

A fresh sense of loss rose in Squall's heart as he stood before the marble tombstone in the misty shower. The surroundings were blurred, dim, in contrast to the words engraved so carefully on the tombstone.

Rinoa Heartilly.

His eyes traced the delicate carving of her face on the headstone in the pale morning light. The cemetery was located in an out-of-the-way part of Deling City; that and the fact that dawn had just broken ensured that he had the entire graveyard to himself.

The sculptors had caught her beauty, even in death. Serene, with her eyes closed, a faint smile gracing the corners of her lips. That was how she'd been when she'd cut her throat, despite all the blood soaking her skin, her clothes…her face had been calm. She'd wanted to do it, and she'd not regretted it in the very least.

What did that leave him? By dying, she had given him the greatest gift of all – life, not for him to waste by pining for her, but to start over again, following the path Hyne had laid out for him, to love whoever Hyne had chosen for him.

He stopped short. Love? His fingertips reached out to trace the cold outlines of her likeness, and then he understood. Rinoa had merely been a passing angel – sent by Hyne to teach him to love the blonde beauty who'd always stood by his side, loving him, lending whatever support she'd could. Once he'd learnt his lesson, there'd been nothing more she could do for him. The time had come for him to follow his heart.

The heart he'd shut down and enclosed with a sheet of reinforced glass since Rinoa's death. He reached cold and shaking fingers around his neck, unclasping from around it the chain he'd never dreamed of taking off before. The chain whose twin that hung around Rinoa's neck where she lay, six feet under the ground in an oak coffin.

The ring felt cold against his chilled palm, and he buried it quietly by her grave, raindrops from his long bangs coursing down his face in little rivulets. To an onlooker it looked as if Squall Leonhart was crying. But Squall never cried – and whatever pain he felt at her death was locked tightly inside of him, so that the tears refused to come.

Squall had been haunted ever since he'd lost Rinoa. By coming back to her grave he'd purged some of the feeling from his heart, and a strange lightness weighed in his chest as he stood up and lifted his face to the sweeping rain.

"It's okay to love again." His words were lost in the whispering rainfall, but perhaps the breeze carried them far, far to where they were not lost upon another.

Quistis awoke with a start, expecting to see Squall lying in the bed next to her. Heart thudding in the horrible anticipation of another mistake made in the seductiveness of the night.

But no – the sheets were tangled about her, and the room was cool: rain was falling outside the window. The bed bore no imprint of another's body. She'd slept alone last night.

The relief that coursed through her was abruptly replaced by a dubious feeling. She was alone in the room, at seven o'clock in the morning, but she could have sworn she'd heard Squall's voice, whispering right next to her. She untwisted the sheets around her waist and swung her legs over the side of the bed, planning to go to his room just to know that he was well.

The room was empty as she pushed open the door. The bed was immaculate, as was the dressing table. Panic seized her, but all those years of SeeD training took over and she calmed her hysterical mind, striding to the window to peer out into the light drizzle.

The Ragnarok was gone.

He'd already left to see Rinoa. Part of her was glad, yet the other part of her was strongly against it – what if he left and never returned?

She sank down onto the bed, taking in his scent – it hung around his room like a sweet fragrance, clean and musky and male. The very scent she'd breathed in the night before, as they'd kissed by the moonlit hallway windows.

"Patience. It's a virtue." Quistis lifted her head to meet Ellone's dark brown gaze, to see the lovely young woman smiling sympathetically at her from the doorway. She managed a weak smile in return.

"He'll be back."

"I know." Quistis stood up, smile growing more genuine by the moment. "How about some breakfast?"

"Sure. It's about time you learnt how to fry eggs. Imagine, an elite mercenary at fifteen, who, at twenty-two, has never ever picked up a frying pan in her whole life."

"The mystic powers of a GF – a blessing or a curse?" Quistis wondered aloud, setting the notes down before her. Guardian Forces were most probably humans' best friends – loyal when they were cared for, answering each summon as swiftly as possible, depending on the strength of the bond forged between them and the humans they served.

But nothing is free in the world – the loyalty and unearthly powers came with one colossal drawback. The sacrifice of precious memories.

"Excuse me?" Laguna asked, raising a handsome eyebrow, looking for a moment exactly like his son.

"Just talking to myself," she replied, jumping out of the large armchair she was curled up in. She paced the floor nervously, and Laguna's clear green eyes followed her edgy frame.

"I reckon that's how Raine used to be when she waited for me to come home."

"Huh?" She slanted him a quizzical look.

"I'd worry her to death by leaving early in the morning for work and coming home late at night. She'd give a hearty scolding before forcing dinner down my throat and hustling me off to bed."

"That's right…Raine." She'd almost forgotten that Laguna had had a wife, that he still mourned her death. His posture was relaxed and easy now; her death did not hurt so anymore. Someday…Squall too would find that release.

"You remind me of Raine, Quistis. Same reserved smile, same worrywart personality." The look in his eyes assured her that he was teasing.

"Like father, like son, President Loire." She retorted. "Any woman would go crazy, the way you two disappear for hours on end without telling anyone."

"I did tell Raine," he defended himself. "She insisted on worrying, in any case."

"At least," she muttered, peering out the darkened window. Night had fallen hours ago, and still Squall had not returned. She really didn't know what she'd do when he came back – kiss him or kill him?

"He'll be back soon." Laguna's voice was confident.

"How do you know?"

"It's the way we men think." She turned to him in surprise, and he winked conspiratorially at her. "We leave you women to miss us for a good long time, before we return. It always makes the homecoming sweeter."

"Uncle Laguna! Somehow, I don't think that's what Squall had in mind."

"No?" He grinned. "He'll be back soon – stop worrying. My son would never leave you for long."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I can see from the way he behaves. It was the same between me and Raine – I always had to leave, but hurried home as soon as possible to see her again."

"You think so?"

"Uh huh. So, now that your heart's at rest, please take a seat." Emerald eyes glinted with amusement. "You're wearing out my living room floor with your pacing."

The door creaked as it opened, and Quistis bolted up from her seat with a small cry, a calmer Laguna at her heels.

There he was. Damp, pale, smelling like the rain…

"You're back." The words came out with much more composedly than she'd dared to hope. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall.

"Yeah." His voice was wintry, tired. All her cold composure melted and she stepped forward to touch his hand.

"You're freezing!"

"It was raining," he explained.

"You can remedy him, Quistis." Laguna yawned and stretched. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Squall."

"Night, Laguna."

She hustled Squall up the stairs, placing one hand on his back. "You're wet clear through."

"Rain does that sometimes." He made no protest as she all but propelled him through the bathroom door and turned on the hot water tap.

"Strip." There was that commanding, military tone, the voice she used with the SeeDs under her. He shrugged off his jacket and sleeveless shirt, followed by his pants and boxers.

Eyes avoiding his lean frame, she scooped the clothes off the floor and motioned for him to get into the steaming bathwater.

Quistis relaxed as she heard the water lap at the bathtub edge. She could almost imagine him, sinking into the steamy water, eyes closed, naked to the bone…

She rolled her eyes and dumped his clothes haphazardly into the washing machine, setting it to wash at high speed. Only then did she allow herself to turn around to face him.

He was watching her out of half-lidded eyes, long lashes lying in a sweeping curve against the pallor of his cheeks. Once again she marveled at the almost-feminine beauty of his face – the midnight lashes lying in stark contrast to his pale skin, blue-gray eyes that changed color with his mood, aquiline nose, finely chiseled mouth and firm, sharp chin, giving his face that masculine edge. And of course, the scar from the battle with Seifer so long ago, somehow accentuating his clean good looks. Inwardly she cursed Laguna for passing on his exquisite attractiveness to his son.

"Warm enough?" she forced herself to speak, picking up a comb from the bathroom shelf – one of Laguna's hairdressing tools, most likely – and advanced to pull it through his sleek brown locks. The comb slid easily through the fine silk of it.

"Yeah."

"You had me worried sick." Her voice was accusing.

"I went to see Rinoa." She waited for him to elaborate, but he fell silent after those words.

"And…?"

"And what?" he angled up a sly look through his wet bangs. She tried to glare at him, but her heart was thudding too fast for her to put much steel behind it. His warm, wet hand closed around her wrist, pulling her down to him with gentle force, lips hovering above hers.

Oh, Hyne. He was going to kiss her. And she was going to let him do it – no; she wanted him to do it.

The washing machine shuddered, and the sounds of the water draining seemed painfully loud in that silent, magical moment. Quistis started violently and pulled away.

"Well…then…would you like something to eat?" she stammered. The wet mark he left on her wrist burned right down to the bone.

"No. Don't mother me, Quisty. I'll be fine."

"Okay." She almost backed away to the door, then, uttering a hasty goodnight, escaped out the door and almost raced to her solitary bedroom, all the while trying to still her pounding heart.

Squall sank down in the hot bathwater, closing his eyes in the steaming bliss. What had he just tried to do?

Kiss his aide. Why? Because he loved her?

You idiot. Loved and left twice…isn't that enough to teach you that being alone is the best for you?

Quistis was real, solid. Rinoa had been carved in ethereal shades of cream and silver, slipping like summer rain through his fingers till she'd been no more. It'd always been so difficult to keep her with him – she'd kept straying, no matter how they'd both wanted to be together. And so he'd proposed marriage to her, in a desperate attempt to keep her by his side.

Quistis had always been there, supporting, helping. She was no wraith to vanish before his eyes. Or was she? Love was illusional – he'd learnt that the hard way.

He thought suddenly of his father, in the room next to his own. Laguna had too lost a loved one. But how could he still be so cheerful in the face of what had happened? He'd loved Raine, that much Squall had seen…

He'd had a hard time adjusting to the fact that Laguna was his father. Hell, he couldn't even call the guy Dad yet. He'd always thought Laguna a moron, and he wasn't sure if he was willing to forgive him for dumping him like that.

He stood up, allowing the water to sluice down his body as he pulled out the bath plug. All that thinking was giving him a headache.

Squall dreamed that night – dreamed of the night he'd gone to see Rinoa, only to find her lying facedown, lustrous black hair splayed over her, hiding the blood that soaked quietly into the pristine sheets below. Her fingers stretched over the bed, as if imploring…

Only this time, when he'd all but dragged her into his arms…

Cerulean eyes stared blankly back at him. Blood matted honey-blonde hair. The woman in his arms was not Rinoa, but Quistis.

He cried out hoarsely, cradling her to his chest…

He woke instantly to the mild touch on his shoulder – and looked up into the concerned eyes of the one he'd been dreaming of. Laguna and Ellone flanked her sides.

"You okay?" It wasn't Quistis who spoke, however, but his father, striking face bearing the paternal worry he'd never had a chance to experience.

"Yeah." He wiped his sweating palms, as inconspicuously as possible, on the bed sheet.

"You sure?" the taller man peered at his face. "You look terrible. When was the last time you slept?"

"I was trying to," he ground out, suddenly feeling more than a little irritated at the unexpected –and unwanted – attention.

Laguna lifted his hands placatingly. "Whoa, whoa. Chill, okay? Elle and I'll go back to bed then."

"Yell if you need us," Ellone added, stifling a loud yawn and flashing him a sleepy smile.

"Want a massage?" Quistis asked.

He pushed the chestnut bangs off his forehead. "No."

"Okay." She started for the door. "Sleep well."

"I doubt it," he muttered. He hadn't meant for her to hear that. But he'd forgotten that she had very acute hearing.

"Laguna was right." She studied his face critically. "You look awful."

"You would too," he retorted, "If you haven't slept in thirty six hours." Though inwardly he doubted it – Quistis was always the perfectionist. Never a hair out of place.

Quistis reached out to stroke his head, the movements soothing and calming. "Why not?" she asked huskily, sitting down and putting her arms around his neck, drawing him closer to her. He put his head on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her, the feeling of human comfort so long denied.

For the longest time she simply held him in her arms, till he drifted off to sleep once again. Gently she eased him down onto the mattress and kissed his forehead tenderly.

"I love you," she whispered, before moving on silent feet out his bedroom door, and down the hall to her own.

Quistis stifled a sharp cry as she nearly tripped over something warm. The creature, however, had no such self-control, and set up a great yowl of protest.

"Oh, hush." She bent down and scooped the cat off the floor, hugging it tightly to her chest. "I just got Squall to sleep – I'd be damned if I let you throw all that hard work down the drain."

She settled back in bed, the cat snuggled next to her. They'd have to leave for Balamb Garden tomorrow, but they could leave later in the day, to allow Squall a chance to catch up on his sleep.

So Squall had gone to see Rinoa. Had he left her behind, in the past, or was he more attached to her than ever? Where had his visit to her grave placed their relationship? Questions circled around in her mind, unanswered, until the first cold fingers of dawn crept into her bedroom. She hadn't slept a wink at all.

Heavy eyed and feeling more than a little grouchy, she dragged herself out of bed and around the house, finally contenting herself with dozing on the couch, with the cat curled up on her lap. Ellone had taken one look at her and had forbidden Laguna to disturb her. So the President of Esthar City, for want of anything better to do, trudged desolately up the stairs.

He paused outside Squall's door. No doubt he and Quistis had stayed up late last night, else the two of them wouldn't be that beat. He softly pushed open the door and stepped into the silent room.

His son lay on the bed, one arm thrown over his head while the other lay across his stomach. He didn't look like a SeeD commander in the very least. Instead he looked like a young boy, deep in slumber – a disturbed young boy, brow creased as he frowned in his sleep.

Suddenly Laguna was twenty-seven again, right in this very room he'd shared with Raine. He'd moved to the next room after Raine had died: he hadn't had the strength to stay in this room, where they'd made sweet love and explored each other's souls. Raine had given her life for their child – the child who had grown up into a handsome warrior and now lay sleeping on the very bed his parents had once occupied. Watching his son at his most vulnerable, Laguna resolved to one day clear things up once and for all between them.

Squall seemed to sense his silent scrutiny, and he jerked up abruptly in bed, glaring at his father out of wary eyes. The look softened as Laguna's image registered in his brain.

"You leaving today?"

"Yeah. Quistis and I have to attend a SeeD graduation ball tonight."

"Oh, okay."

Laguna retreated quietly. One day. One day when the time is right…

- End chapter 6 -

Author's note: Story's coming along reaaal slow, I know…sorry, but I have major exams coming up, and am suffering from a baaad case of writer's block…pleas be patient, ne?