Squall paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from his eyes, grabbing a water bottle off the bench and squirting it in his face before blotting it dry with a small white towel. After his seemingly endless pile of paperwork, part of his duties as commander, he'd come to the gym to work off the tension. He stood barefoot on the mat next to the punching bag, clad only in a pair of old gray sweatpants. Sweat had given his bare muscular chest a glossy sheen, complementing the gleam in his stormy gray eyes. His dark brown hair had grown just long enough for him to tie it back, although a few strands had escaped during his tirade against the punching bag.
Nothing…
Squall scowled as a picture of Quistis came unbidden into his mind. He could almost hear her shouting at him, before he'd watched helplessly as she stormed out of his dorm room, slamming the door behind her.
That's what you'll end up with in the end, Squall Leonhart…
He barely noticed the growl escaping from his lips as he launched another flurry of attacks against the defenseless punching bag. He pounded away unmercifully, trying to chase away his thoughts, not wanting to travel down the path his treacherous mind wanted to take him.
What if she's right?
He stopped, starting to realize that this time, his mind wasn't going to let him run away.
He had opened up to them, to all of them….hadn't he? So what if he'd smiled at Rinoa. She had been the one, the voice that had brought him out of the endless wasteland of time. Right? Or was it only because he had let her?
No matter what he said to Rinoa, whatever she wanted to believe, he had to be honest, at least to himself. Yes, he'd thought of Rinoa…of her raven hair, her beautiful pouting face, of the SeeD graduation ball when they'd first met. But he had also thought of standing at the front gate of Galbadia Garden, seeing Irvine get up from the grass and saunter over to them. He'd thought of the field exam, the image of silly, wonderful Selphie climbing up over the hill, so very anxious to complete her orders that she leapt right over the cliff after Seifer. He thought of Zell sitting in the cafeteria, stuffing his face so full of hot dogs people were taking bets on how long it would be before he exploded. He had thought of all the times sitting in the back row, watching a young, vibrant blonde instructor lecture them on the best strategy for thunder magic, which had led to a bossy little Quisty in an orphanage by the sea.
Mostly, though, he had thought of Matron…the sorceress Edea, who had been his mother, in spirit if not in blood. He thought of the terrible battle against her, and how thankful he was that at that time, he did not remember who she was.
Remember…
This led him to his feelings after they had thought Seifer was dead, and how fiercely he did not want people to talk about him like that after he was gone. Memories…so long as they remembered, he'd never be gone. The desire to remember…that had brought him to the flower field, beside the orphanage that had been his home. He didn't want to be forgotten.
Did the others think that because it seemed Rinoa had brought him back to them, that somehow she was more important to him, more important than his dearest friends who had lived with him at the orphanage? There should have been a special bond between them, the bond of people who have only each other, with no family anywhere else in the world. Perhaps they felt betrayed…
No, that was nonsense. Everybody liked Rinoa, everyone had tried so hard to bring her and Squall together. Right?
He remembered a few weeks ago, seeing Zell and Irvine strolling to the front gate, waving goodbye to him. They were headed down to Balamb for a few drinks and whatever else the rowdy pair could get themselves into. They hadn't even asked him if he wanted to go.
They were probably going to look for women, and figured since I'm taken, I wouldn't want to go.
Yeah, right, Leonhart. Is that what you really think?
He was so engrossed in this troublesome line of thinking that he didn't notice the young SeeD cadet enter the gym. She stood for a few minutes, hoping to catch Squall's attention. Finally, after watching him stare off into space for what felt like an eternity to her, she cleared her throat.
"Um…Commander?"
The small voice startled Squall. He jumped up and grabbed for a gunblade that wasn't there, whirling around on the unfortunate cadet. He calmed immediately when he saw her, but was disturbed by the fear he saw in her eyes.
"H-headmaster Cid wants to see you, um, sir."
"When."
She took a small step backwards. "Whenever you can, sir." She turned on her heel and practically ran from the practice gym.
After grabbing a quick shower to wash the sweat and tension off, Squall regarded his uniform briefly before pulling on a pair of black pants and a plain blue shirt and headed on up to the Garden's third floor. When he arrived at Cid's office, he saw Zell and Selphie waiting there already. His hopes rose at the sight of these two. Could he dare hope he was being sent on a mission?
Since they'd defeated Ultimecia, he'd been assigning the teams rather than being a part of them. He was learning day after excruciating day that he preferred the times when he wasn't in command. He missed the thrill of real combat, dangerous and unpredictable combat. He missed solving the puzzles that a mission would inevitably present. Truly, he had envied Quistis when she'd come to tell him she was going away.
Shaking those thoughts away, he faced Headmaster Cid. The older man was dressed as Squall often imagined a grandfather might, in a red sweater over a white dress shirt, gray tweed trousers and those funny little black loafers. In a detached sort of manner, Squall noticed that Cid seemed to have a few more worry lines around his eyes, creasing his kind, warm face. Not really the image of a man who regularly sent SeeDs into dangerous missions, a man who regularly sent young men and women to die.
"Squall Leonhart," Cid said quietly, and Squall wondered if the headmaster was speaking to him or to the air. Cid shook his head slightly, seeming as if he'd reached a decision. "I am assigning yourself, Selphie Tilmitt, and Zell Dincht on a mission. A small village on the northern border of Esthar was slaughtered last night, to the last man, woman, and child."
Squall heard Selphie give a little gasp behind him as he nodded grimly.
"The Esthar government wants answers. They want justice."
"They want revenge," Zell put in.
"You are being sent to investigate, uncover and bring in the perpetrators. More information will be available to you when you arrive in Esthar. Any questions?"
"Sir." Squall hoped that his eagerness to be in the field again would not be confused with irreverence for the tragedy. "May I ask, why isn't the government investigating themselves?"
"Oh, they are. And it is because of what they have discovered that you are being sent." Cid held up a hand to stop what he knew would be Squall's next question. "No, I can't elaborate. Any other questions?"
They were quiet. "Good. You leave tomorrow evening. Get some rest."
She could feel the hot breath of the beast behind her as she stumbled over a tangle of vines. Barely regaining her footing before she kissed the dirt, she ran on. Even in this dire peril, she kept her wits about her and looked ahead, attempting to discern an escape route. The rose vines hung down from everywhere, their thorny branches grabbing at her hear and tearing at her clothes. Desperately she wished for a gunblade, a knife, anything that would help her through the jungle of roses. In a detached part of her mind, she wondered what they were hanging from.
Ahead she saw two routes she could take. The dark circle of a cave mouth was barely visible through a tangle of rose bushes, beside which she saw a path running up the side of the hill.
"Which one?"
She dared a look behind her, and saw the dark shape pause, gathering its strength as if to make a leap to close the distance to her.
"Choose, Rose!" His voice sounded anxious…frightened? "Will you run forever? Will you run to the sky? Or will you plunge into the darkness?"
"No!" she cried, and immediately began to climb the rocky path up the hill. She heard rocks falling behind her, but knew she did not have a moment to spare to view her hunter's progress. She found better footing twenty feet up, and began to run along the ledge.
Suddenly the land fell away from her. She felt strong arms circle around her, briefly, and thought she heard a whisper in her ear.
"Beware…"
And then she was falling…
Bright, cheery sunlight streamed through the window, brightening the study with brilliant warmth. Shelves of books lined the walls of the small study, and the room smelled of ink and paper. It was early morning, just after breakfast, and Lord Gefrey sat at his desk, going over harvest reports from his various tenants. Harvest was a busy time for Gefrey, with his livelihood centered around the farming families who worked his lands. As he paused for a moment to consider the squirrel running across the branches of the large oak tree that sat just outside the study window, there was a soft knock at his door.
"Come in," he called, and was not surprised when the young blonde woman stepped into the room. "Good morning, Ms. Trepe. What can I do for you?"
Quistis nodded politely. "Good Mornng, sir." She was quiet a moment, trying to decide how to begin. "If you don't mind, I will come straight to the point. I'd like to get started immediately on completing my mission. I'm afraid, however, I wasn't given much information before I left, but I was told you would fill me in."
Gefrey nodded. "Yes, yes…" He got up out of his seat and walked to the fireplace, looking up at the portrait of an elderly gentleman that hung above the mantle. Quistis shifted her weight, preparing for a lengthy explanation. "When Starvale was founded, oh, before my great grandfather was born, it was a mining town. In these hills there are veins of silver, supposedly so pure the silversmiths could fashion objects right from the cave walls. The miners back then used a special rod, called the Finder's Way, to guide them through the tunnels.
"One day something went wrong, something so terrible the survivors refused to speak about it. There was a cave in, and the rod was lost. The remaining miners would not go back in to retrieve it. The mines were sealed up, and the people of Starvale turned to the land for their future, and have prospered from it.
"I have brought you here to find and return to me the Finder's Way, which was a personal possession of the first Lord Vanderstyll. I have gathered a few locals who will help you to this end."
"What is so special about the rod?"
"My grandfather, Lord Devrin Vanderstyll, spent much time researching the rod." Gefrey walked over to the desk and made a complicated gesture on the smooth, highly polished cherry surface. Quistis watched as a previously hidden drawer slid out from the side. Reverantly he removed a stack of yellowed parchment and a small, leather bound book. "These are his notes, which I now entrust with you. Much of it is written in some kind of code no one I've brought it to has ever been able to decipher." He laid the journal on the desk and handed her the papers. "What is it?" he asked, noticing a puzzled frown creasing her lovely face.
"It's just…well, sir, this looks like a job for a digging team, not a SeeD. I'm not sure where my skills are suited for this mission."
"Ah, but they are." Gefrey ran his fingers through his hair and looked her squarely in the eyes. "You may hear rumors around town that the mines are haunted. My grandfather's notes and my own experience at the caves years ago lead me to believe that the rumors may not only be true, but may only scratch the surface. Whatever happened down there was bad enough to terrify the wits out of several grown men, experienced miners. I needed someone prepared to face possibly dire circumstances while down there. SeeD seemed to be the logical conclusion." He smiled at her and winked. "And I have heard in certain circles that Quistis Trepe and her friends are the best in all the Gardens."
Quistis smiled wryly. Possibly dire circumstances…well, he is right…it can't be worse than Time Compression…
Gefrey looked past her as Benton entered the study.
"Excuse me for interrupting, sir, but Mr. Leete is here to see you."
"Yes, of course," Gefrey waived his hand. "I shall leave you to your reading, Ms. Trepe. Your team is prepared to go down with you as early as tomorrow morning, if you are ready by then. You may use my study, if you like."
Quistis nodded and looked down at the crumbling parchments in her hands. The handwriting, in faded black ink, was small and orderly. As she shuffled through them, she noticed a dark splotch between the pages. She pulled them apart, hoping there weren't any ink blots or damage on the documents.
Gefrey had started to turn and walk out the door, but stopped and regarded her curiously. "Well, would you look at that? How did that get in there?"
They watched as a rose petal slipped from between the papers and drifted slowly to the floor.
Author's notes: I'm not sure if I like how this chapter turned out….please let me know. Was it too abrupt? Thanks, and thank you to those few for the kind reviews. Like any author, they are what I write for! J