Chapter Three: For Every Dream
A/N: Sorry this took so long again..*sigh* I'm just a slow writer. =(
"Good afternoon, Balamb! I'm Larry Lynn, here with the weather forecast. As you can see, it's raining cats and dogs. Ha ha! Stay-,"
In a fit of rage, Zell's gloved fist collided with the car radio. It flickered, and then zapped off. "Damn straight, it's raining'," he muttered sourly. "Who the hell does this Lynn guy think he is? Stupid motherfuckin'-,"
The loud, obnoxious honk of the car behind him interrupted Zell's ranting, and the martial artist uttered a very creative string of profanities before almost sliding off the rain slick road.
After that, Zell was more careful. Squinting through the downpour, he could barely make out the busy highway ahead of him. He scratched his head, debating whether to call his agent in Timber and inform him that he'd be late, then decided against it. The cell phone probably wouldn't work in this storm, anyway.
"Great," he mumbled to himself. "Stuck in traffic, miles away from home. Alone. In the goddamn rain, for Hyne's sake! Maybe the radio still works." Keeping his eyes on the road, he switched the radio on.
"Larry Lynn again, folks. It's-,"
Click.
"Yo, that was our top ten fo' today, stick around. I'm Z, 98.6."
Click.
"Come on down to Chocobo Charlie's place! We serve fried-,"
Click.
"Our next song made the music world history books ten years ago. Stay tuned for Let Her Go, performed by Zell Dincht and his band, Lone Lightning."
A flicker of recognition crossed Zell's face. His song. No…their song.
No one could remember whose idea it was to go to a karaoke bar. Zell thought it might have been Selphie's, but it didn't really matter. Everyone was so bored that night, they would have agreed to anything. So at one a.m. on a Friday evening, everyone found themselves sitting around a little table in the corner, away from the flashing lights and the loud speakers which projected the inebriated patron's screechy voices to all ends of the crowded bar.
Squall sat with his head in his hands, trying to block out the noise, but from the pained look on his face, he was obviously not succeeding. He ignored the beer Irvine had slid across the table to him; adamantly stating "I don't have the leisure to get drunk. I'm responsible for you guys," to which everyone protested that they didn't need to be babysat, and Rinoa smiled, and whispered something to her boyfriend, which made him blush profusely.
So, that's where they were. Zell remembered it vividly. He sat next to Quistis, trying to make conversation with the uppity Instructor, and finally made her laugh. She
tipped her chair over, falling to the ground in a giggling heap.
Everyone was really letting loose. Even Squall was arguing amiably with Selphie, and he grinned as she slammed her hand down on the table, tipping a cocktail glass onto her lap.
"Eeeeeeeeew!!!" she shrieked, leaping out of her chair. "I'm all wet!"
Irvine smirked. "That must be uncomfortable, Sefie. Why don't you take your dress off?"
Everyone laughed as she kicked his chair over, and he landed on the floor beside Quistis, who still hadn't gotten up.
The blonde girl smiled goofily. "How nice of you to visit me, Irvine!" she declared, and then burst into another fit of giggles.
The cowboy stared at her, then looked up. "I think Quisty's drunk."
Shaking with laughter, Quistis propped herself up on one elbow, pushing a strand of unruly golden hair away from her face. "I've seen Selphie act like this dozens of times, and you never accuse her of being drunk!" she complained.
Smiling, Selphie sat down beside her. "That's because I'm always like that!" Narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend, she spoke a little louder. "Now Irvine, on the other hand…"
Irvine took the hint and quickly tore his eyes away from the girls at the next table, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry." He scooted a bit closer to Selphie and gave her a kiss.
"Yo, guys!" Zell scooted his chair closer to the little group on the floor. "You gonna get up or what?"
They all stared at him as if he were insane.
"I mean, uh… It's the floor, man…" He coughed, scratching his head.
Quistis, Selphie, and Irvine looked at each other, then back at Zell.
Giggling, Rinoa got up and sat down with everyone else. "Free spirit! Whoo! C'mon, Zell!" She gestured to the martial artist. "Be a rebel!"
"I don't know…" Zell wasn't given a choice, however. Squall reached over casually, and tugged on his chair. The spiky haired young man tumbled to the ground. Squall then stood up, ran a hand through his hair, and made himself comfortable next to Rinoa.
They sat like that for a while, in a little group on the floor by the table, ignoring the laughter from the people all around them. What did it matter what others thought? They were having fun together, which was a nice break from their mission to destroy the Sorceress only a month ago. Quistis leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, legs pulled up to her chest as she talked quietly with Squall. Selphie lay half asleep in Irvine's lap, and the cowboy looked oddly content as he absently played with his girlfriend's hair, listening as Rinoa explained her interest in journalism to a fidgeting Zell.
It was Selphie that said it, though it was on everyone else's mind as well. "Y'know, this is, like, the first time we've ever really acted immature together. It's kinda nice. Don't you think?" She sat up, leaning her head against Irvine's shoulder. He smiled, and put an arm around her.
"Yeah. It is. We're only 17…"
"We shouldn't have to deal with this stuff," Rinoa said softly. "Saving the world, and all. It's great being a kid again and not having to worry if you'll survive until tomorrow." She turned, smiling sadly. "What do you think, Squall?"
Squall sat, chin in hand, frowning. "We may not survive until tomorrow. No one knows," he said finally. "But… Selphie's right. I like it like this."
"The only problem is that girl at the mic!" Zell complained, jerking his head towards the stage where a skinny, gawky looking teenager with glasses was screeching "Your Song" into the microphone. "Someone good should sing. No one with any talent has gotten up there yet!"
"Irvy can sing," Selphie remarked off-handedly. "Why doesn't he perform?"
"What?!" Irvine backed away and stood up. "Not a chance! I don't sing in public."
"Seriously, he's got an awesome voice," Selphie continued. "A really sweet tenor with a Galbadian accent, just like that guy from Laser!"
Quistis grinned. "Irvine, sing for us!"
"No way!" the cowboy declared. "I'm NOT going up there."
"I dare ya." The magic words. "I dare ya, Irvine," Zell said, grinning. "Get up there and sing."
Sighing, Irvine turned to look at the stage. It was rather small and old looking. No one seemed to be paying any real attention to whoever was up there. What did he have to lose? His dignity, his pride, his manliness… He smirked. A small price to pay for making his girlfriend swoon, and getting all his friends impressed. …Right? Right. But he wasn't going to give in completely without one last demand. "I'll do it if Zell goes with me."
Zell's eyes widened. 'Yo, man. I don't really appreciate you tryin' to drag me into your own death sentence." He looked around for support. And got none.
"Fine," he snapped. "We'll make idiots of ourselves together. C'mon, Irvine." Striding over to the stage, Zell snatched a guitar from the corner and began to cautiously play a few chords. Irvine watched, arms crossed.
"I didn't know you played guitar."
Zell shrugged. "I'm not that serious about it. S'just something I fool around with in my spare time." He stopped, and glanced up. "How's this?" He played a string of notes, ending in a strummed chord, and Irvine grinned.
"Use that. Sounds good." The cowboy jumped onstage, grabbing the microphone. "Okay, Zell. Hit it."
Zell sat down on the side of the stage, a faint blush crossing his tattooed face as he began to play, glancing up at Irvine every once in awhile for cues. And Irvine began to sing. His voice was deep and very accented, and one by one the patrons turned around as the beauty of the song hit their ears.
"There she is
Arms outstretched
Utopian smile on her pretty little face
A smile shadowed by a fearful hurt
She's crying
Don't want to get on your case
Strong as a butterfly
Fierce as a flower
She's holding it back, she's hiding
And you know
That it's a momentary heaven
You've gotta move on, let her go
Let her go"
Irvine glanced at Zell, arching an eyebrow, and the martial artist nodded nervously, clearing his throat. He wasn't sure what Irvine had in mind, but the beginning of the next verse was taking shape slowly. Zell's voice was quite a bit higher, and didn't have Irvine's soulful quality, but it was soft and honest.
"Shattered bits
Of perfect crystal
Shimmer on the starlit floor
Picturesque
Beauty hidden with a malice
Back away towards the door
Strong as a butterfly
Fierce as a flower
She's holding it back, she's hiding
And you know
That it's a momentary heaven
You've gotta move on, let her go
Let her go"
"I know that somewhere far away there's worlds of rainbows
(Rainbows in the)
Tender heat and somewhere waiting
You'll be waiting for me
You know she'll cry
Tears of sunshine
Joy hidden by a broken heart
One last kiss
Of salty sweetness
And then you're back to the start
Strong as a butterfly
Fierce as a flower
She's holding it back, she's hiding
And you know
(You know)
That it's a momentary heaven
You gotta move on, let her go
Let her go"
The radio faded off to static and Irvine reached out from where he was sprawled on the couch to turn it off, a trace of a sardonic smile playing on his lips. He hadn't heard that song in ages. How long had it been? 10 years? Time flies.
All around his small flat, rumpled clothing laid on the ground, only some of it his. The cheap, metal-framed furniture had a thin layer of dust coating it, and dirty dishes and empty beer cans were piled on the table. Someone had once told him that a man is only as good as the house he lives in. Quisty, maybe. He smirked. She had been mad at him for leaving his dorm a mess. A pity she wasn't here to clean it up now.
Quisty… How was she doing? Sitting up, Irvine sighed, trying to picture the pretty blonde instructor in his head. Her features were blurry now. All his friends were. Simply faded memories of better times, high on a dusty shelf in the back of the cowboy's mind. The more he thought about them, the more distant they seemed. Squall had that peculiar way of looking at you, a way that made you feel totally inadequate. Zell had a silly, lopsided grin that made him seem like a roguish puppy looking for praise. Rinoa had a habit of playing with her hair as she spoke, tendrils of obsidian darkness flicking behind her ear, between two slender fingers as she smiled shyly, and then looked away. And he would never forget the smirk on Seifer's face as he stood triumphantly by his sorceress on the parade float, shadows of pale color from overhead alighting and shimmering on the blade of his Hyperion.
And Selphie… He spoke her name in the hollows of his mind, heard it echo along shards of painfully sweet emotions, sliding and whispering until finally appearing before his eyes. Selphie. Yes, he remembered her best of all. How could one forget? Skin so smooth, and eyes like brilliant green jewels, flashing with childlike exuberance. She had been the one to comfort him when he was afraid, the one to listen to him when he was angry, the one to bring him back to reality with her sweet temperament and sharp tongue. He had never realized how much he had depended on her until now. When it was too late. She was gone…
A knock on the door brought welcome relief from the dredging up of old scars as Irvine walked slowly to the door, and pulled it open. Kal grinned up at him through his scruffy red beard. "Howdy, cowboy."
Irvine arched an eyebrow. "Who said you could come over?" But Kal ignored his friend, and sauntered in, pushing some papers off a kitchen chair and sitting down with his stubby legs propped up on the table.
"Let's talk business, buddy. How long have you been here? Ten years, about?"
The younger man nodded apprehensively, crossing his arms. "Yeah. Just about. Why?"
Kal scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Ten years. Heh. Alrighty, here's my proposition. I'd say ten years is more than enough time to recover from whatever the hell happened. Lone Lightning's performing in Timber tonight. So's, I got two tickets here…"
The cowboy didn't even bat an eye. "That's great, Kal. Really it is. Why don't you take Orlis? I know she really has a thing for Zell Dincht."
"No, man! Orlis is a wonderful woman, but…" Kal shrugged. "I was thinking more of a guy's night out."
"A guys night out? Oh, that is lame!" Irvine snickered. "Tell me, how many Chicken Soup for the Soul books do you read? Next you're gonna be wanting a 'man to man' talk, so we can 'get in touch with our feelings'. Rich, Kal. Really rich."
"Then you wont even consider it?"
Irvine narrowed his eyes. "No way."
Sitting up, Kal looked Irvine straight in the eye. "Nice try, Kinneas. I know the real reason. You just don't want to see your friends again. But of course, you have to play it all cool, be the Mr. Hot Shot and not give a shit about anyone but yourself. You're too much of a fucking coward to face your past. It hurts you too much."
The silence was almost unbearable. Irvine looked away, pulling his cowboy hat over his eyes. That wasn't the real reason, was it? It couldn't be. He just didn't like the loud music, and all the crowded people. Yet…
"It's hard to be the only one that's held tight by the past," Kal said softly, and Irvine recognized the line from a famous Galbadian poem. "That's what you're afraid of, isn't it, Irv? You're afraid that all the people you've loved, all the memories you've treasured…"
"Could mean nothing to them," Irvine finished sullenly. "Bull's-eye." He paused for a moment, and then stood up. "Enough soul searching, Kal. I'm gonna be sick. Look, if we're gonna be in Timber in time for the concert, we gotta leave now."
A wide grin spread over Kal's face, and he followed his friend out the door.
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As the lights dimmed, a hush ran over the audience, and family and friends eagerly turned towards the stage, awaiting the start of the dance. A tall, thin woman crossed the floor, adjusted her glasses, and made herself comfortable at the piano. She began to play a song that was vaguely familiar, and Rinoa smiled as she realized it was yet another version of her mother's song, Eyes on Me.
"Yes, yes-what? Now look, Xu. I don't want these-," Squall covered the receiver of his cell phone and looked at his wife in annoyance. "What now, Rinoa?"
Rinoa took the phone from his hands. "Xu, darling? Commander Leonhart can't talk right now, he has family matters to attend to. I'm sure you understand." Deftly, she disconnected the phone and shoved it back in Squall's pocket. "No one works on Saturday's but you," she told him simply, and turned away.
Squall resisted the urge to argue, and simply sighed. "…Whatever." He followed his wife's gaze to the stage, and the ballerinas about to begin their dance.
One by one, the girls entered, each attempting to float the way Mr. Lavine was expecting them to. Ryssa was the first to appear, and she made the most of it, her golden curls flying as she spun gracefully onstage with perfect poise. Years of hard work and practice had gotten Ryssa where she was now, and she knew she was good. One of the best. But not where Brook Leonhart was concerned.
Brook was the last to enter, and Squall had to look hard to realize that it was indeed his daughter. Something about her seemed…different. Wild, and unrecognizable. Brook had always been quiet and reserved, unwilling to say anything for fear of being ridiculed, her wide blue eyes taking in all around her with a serious nonchalance. But at that moment, as she leapt in the air, her black hair glinting like satin in the light of the stage, her slender arms arched perfectly as her light azure gown swayed and moved to the motion of the dance, Squall could have sworn he was seeing Rinoa as she was twenty years before. The same vibrant passion reflected in his daughter's eyes, and she seemed to be dancing by herself, for no one could focus on anything but her. Even Ryssa stopped to stare at the wild, beautiful creature that had once been Brook Leonhart.
And suddenly she seemed to have sprouted wings, for her feet left the ground. Squall blinked, cursing the bright, blinding stage lights for hindering his vision, but he felt Rinoa clutch his arm, and he realized he wasn't seeing things at all. Brook was flying. She was floating, dancing in the air, her skin radiant with an unearthly glow as she raised her arms, spinning faster and faster until she was nothing but a glittering blur above the stage. Girls shrieked, running across the floor to their parents, as all watched openmouthed, craning their necks to see. Someone screamed for the pianist to stop playing, but no one heard.
Squall turned as he realized he no longer felt Rinoa beside him, and caught a glimpse of his wife dashing to the stage, dodging people until finally she came to the edge. "Brook!" she cried, her voice echoing eerily around the atrium, then losing itself in the melody of the song. "Brook!"
Panic gripped Squall's heart, and he bounded after Rinoa, wincing as the music became louder and louder until nothing could be heard but the song, almost unrecognizable from what it had been before. He reached Rinoa, and held her tightly as she clung to him in hysterics. "Squall, do something!"
And from far above, there came an unearthly scream, and the beautiful fairy came tumbling to earth. The music stopped and all was silent.
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