Disclaimer: I own the story but not the characters; they belong to Squaresoft.

A Rain of Roses

"I've been calling…."

The figure didn't turn around. She paused, cocking her head to one side.

"You….are him, aren't you."

There was no answer, but the hooded shape turned slightly, allowing a man's profile to stand out against the red sky.

"Who are you?"

"I'm lost." His voice was music, a flow of liquid syllables that rained down on her like a shower of gold. "I'm afraid….I've been forced to… I must protect them…"

"Protect who?" she asked, taking a step towards him. She could plainly feel his agony, the sorrow that dampened that beautiful voice.

"Without me…they'll never make it. They need me."

"Who?Who needs you?"

"Goodbye…Until we meet again."

"No!" She cried out as he began to melt away. The wind kicked up, throwing her back. Sounds filled the air, sounds of metal clashing on metal, of men screaming, yelling, the thudding of bodies hitting each other, hitting the ground. Phantoms danced all around her, flitting through her vision just enough that she had to strain her eyes to see them.

The air filled with a red rain, fluttering and whirling around her. Shuddering, she reached out to catch a droplet. Expecting water, or maybe even blood, she was surprised as the silky smoothness of a rose petal brushed her skin. The wind calmed, and soon the rose petals were falling quietly all around her.

She was standing in a garden, next to an archway. Vines heavily laden with soft red roses hung down from the stone. Low bushes full of blooms hugged the ground everywhere that she looked. There was a soft breeze again, tickling her skin and pushing her hair away from her face.

"You are the rose." His voice…but where was it coming from. "Quiet. Elegant. Composed. Beautiful…."

The sky blackened, angry clouds gathered, and the wind, gentle before, now howled as if in anger. On the wind his voice drifted back to her.

"When the rain comes, sweet rose…Will you be strong enough?"

The sun sat low in the sky, a fiery orb of fading warmth painting the horizon with vivid streaks of red, orange, and gold. It was late summer, and the evening air had taken on a slight chill, a taste of the impending winter.  Darren Thebes hurried along, knowing he was already late. The train from Balamb had long since departed, on its way back across the sea. He passed by the gate, waiving at Sherry, the window girl.

"Good day, Mr. Thebes!" Sherry called. "Picking up?"

He nodded and continued out to the passenger platform. He paused a moment to

wipe his brow with his handkerchief, looking around. The place was practically deserted, with just a few attendants, a janitor, and a lone figure, the sight of which drew a sigh of relief from the heavy set man.

She stood at the edge of the platform, outwardly the picture of calm and composure. Her uniform was perfectly pressed, not a button undone or a hint of wear in the gold trim. Blonde hair was pulled up into a clip of the back of her head, with not a single strand out of place. No sign of weariness shone in her serene face as she turned to greet him, a slight smile curving her lips.

"Good afternoon, sir. Darren Thebes, I believe?"

"Er, yes, I mean, good day, miss…" Darren fumbled with a slip of paper in his pocket, unfolding it for the thousandth time. "Trepe. Miss Quistis….Trepe?" He had read the instructions over and over, but here, faced with a real SeeD, a composed and imposing woman, he found himself fumbling.

"Yes, sir." She bent down to pick up her bag.

"Oh, no, please, let me get that," he exclaimed. She watched, amused, as he heaved her bag up and over his shoulder. "The car is waiting. We must hurry, and get in before it gets too dark."

Silently Quistis followed Darren to the car, allowing him to open the door for her before he heaved himself in to the tiny vehicle. As they pulled away from the station, she looked out the window to take in more her surroundings.

Within a few minutes they had left the station behind, venturing down the bumpy road into rolling countryside. Many of the crops had already been harvested, and haystacks dotted the fields. The copses of trees that were scattered about left splashes of red and yellow among the gold and brown fields, and occasionally a pumpkin patch would provide a brilliant patch of orange. The further they traveled, the simpler the homes became, until the car they rumbled along in became the only sign of the technology of the wider world. Here in the country, life had remained simple.

The land became rockier as they neared the fringes of the mountains, the fields broken up by large lots of forested country. It was getting dark, and soon Quistis could see little behind what was illuminated by the car's headlights. Tiny dots of light appeared in the distance, and as they drew closer, she identified them as candlelight gleaming through windows, welcoming the travelers in.

"Welcome to Starvale, Miss Trepe," Darren said solemnly as they rode down the tiny village's main street. Homey, two story buildings with both thatched and shingled roofs lined the street, cheerful and welcoming in their simplicity. Through the windows she caught glimpses of families gathering for the evening meal, store owners doing their final sweep of their shops. The tavern was heard before they reached it, the sounds of singing and talking spilling out into the darkness each time a new patron opened the door. They soon passed all of these things, and continued on down the road.

"Excuse me, Mr. Thebes," Quistis frowned slightly, "but where are we going? I was under the impression I had been called to Starvale, and would room there."

"Oh, you have, ma'am. But Starvale's First Citizen has insisted you room with him."

"And he would be…?"

"Lord Gefrey Vanderstyll, of course. His manor is just outside of Starvale." Darren chuckled. "The Vanderstylls have always been rather fond of their privacy. Besides, wouldn't that look rather silly plopped down among the homes in town?"

He said this as they rounded a bend and the trees broke away, bringing a stately manor home into view. Three stories of carefully fitted gray stone were topped by tin roofs painted a dark blue. Evergreen trees lined the long drive up to the front gate, torches with glowing balls of soft yellow light set between each one.

As they reached the circle in front of the house, Quistis saw two people step out onto the walkway from the entrance. A young man in his mid-twenties waved a leather-gloved hand at them while his tiny, pretty wife smiled.  He was dressed for riding, in rich brown leather breeches, slim jacket, white puffed shirt and a smart black cap. She wore a lovely emerald green gown that hugged her tiny waist and hips just right before cascading to the ground. She had thrown a lacy white shawl about her shoulders to fend off the autumn chill.

"That be Lord Gefrey, and his wife Elana," Darrel said to her as the car came to a stop.

An elderly gentleman dressed in plain black trousers, black jacket and gray shirt appeared from nowhere and opened the door for her, taking her hand as she stepped out. The battle hardened SeeD hardly needed aid getting out of the small car, but it wasn't often she was treated….well, treated like a lady.

"Greetings, Ms. Trepe!" Gefrey said warmly, clasping her hand in a firm shake. "I am so very pleased that you shall be staying here with us for the duration of your visit!"

"Yes, Ms. Trepe, do come in," Elana smiled at her. "It's getting a bit chilly out here, and there's a warm supper waiting inside. You must be tired from all that traveling!"

Quistis chuckled wryly. "I've become accustomed to travel lately."

"Yes," Gefrey took her elbow, leading her towards the door. "But how often did you have to subject yourself to Darrel's driving!"

Darrel huffed, though he knew Gefrey's playful teasing for what it was. "Very well, then, m'Lord, next time, you may have the pleasure."

"Now, Darrel, you know I don't drive those dratted contraptions. A horse is the only way for me. Now, Ms. Trepe, Benton will take your things to your room, and you shall join us for dinner."

Dinner was a pleasant affair, with surprisingly hearty dishes of venison and stewed vegetables, followed up with fresh fruit and cream. The men had retired to the study, while the young SeeD begged Lady Elana's forgiveness and went on to her room.

Quistis pulled her bag up and set it on the bed, taking a look around at the room Lord Gefrey had provided her. The walls were painted a soft blue, the curtains a heavy dark blue velvet. The hardwood floor was covered with a rich woven rug with silvery swirls and designs embroidered into it in much the same style as the heavy tapestries hanging on the walls. A small fire burned cheerily in the stone fireplace, and candles were lit along the mantle. The four poster bed was a dark cherry, with lions heads carved into the headboard and made up with heavy blue comforters. There was a cherry wood armoire for her to put her things in, and a small door beside the bed she assumed led to the bathroom.

"Lion's heads…" she whispered as she began to pull her things out of her bag, laying Save the Queen on the bed before walking to the armoire with her clothing. She smiled for a moment as the grinning feline faces brought her thoughts to her stormy-eyed commander. The smile faded, however, as she remembered their last conversation.

"I'm going away on a mission."

He didn't turn around to look at her, merely nodded his head to acknowledge that he had heard her.

"Headmaster Cid believes it will be a lengthy one…I could be gone for months...a year, even."

"Well, it is your job," he replied, a touch of annoyance in his voice. What did she want from him, anyway?

"Yes…that it is…and you know, as well as I do, that every job brings the possibility of never returning. I…Dammit, Squall!" she growled suddenly, fiercly. She had just about had it with the stone cold rock of a man standing before her.

He jumped, startled by the normally cool, composed Quistis' sudden outburst, and turned to look at her.

"What is your problem, Quisty?"

She noticed his use of her nickname, but she was so mad, she didn't care. "What is the problem? The problem is that after all that we have been through, all the blood and sweat and tears we have shed side by side, you still treat me like a stranger! Well, I've had it! You can smile for Rinoa, whom you've known for what, a few months? But for us, for your friends, the people you grew up with, who wanted nothing more than to see you happy, for Selphie and Zell and Irvine and me, what could you give? Nothing! And that's what you'll end up with in the end, Squall Leonhart. Nothing." With that, she turned on her heel and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

            Quistis sighed as she turned back the covers. As she stripped and got into her nightclothes, she glanced at the telephone sitting on the nightstand and debated for a moment. Should I call him? Apologize?

            As soon as the thought entered her mind, though, she scowled, hardening her heart. Hell, no, I will not apologize. Everything I said was the truth. Besides, he probably doesn't care anyway…

            She pulled the covers up to her chin and drifted slowly into a troubled sleep…

            It began with a single petal drifting down, swirling and dancing in hidden air currents. She held out her hand to catch the silky crimson petal, like a child catches snowflakes. Then the air was full of them, a flurry of roses falling like rain all around her. She closed her eyes and smiled as they fell softly against her face. She stretched her arms out and sighed with quiet pleasure. She felt like she was flying…

            Then her hand brushed against something sharp, prickly. Turning, she opened her eyes and saw a rose bush. Beyond that rose bush was a vine, climbing up a crumbling stone archway, heavily laden with red and white roses. She began to look around, and found herself standing in a vast garden, bushes bursting with crimson color everywhere.

            She spent what felt like an eon, walking softly amidst the roses. She felt peaceful, a quiet interlude her soul had rarely known. She began to hum, a lullaby she couldn't recall the origins of. Perhaps her mother, her real mother, had sung it to her once… or maybe Matron, dear sweet Edea, who had cared for them as if they were all her own.

            A dark shadow fell across the garden, as if the sun had been blotted out. The wind, a moment before warm and comforting, become cold and biting. She heard a low growl from the shadows to her left, and barely had time to comprehend the danger before a feline shape leaped out, claws outstretched.