Authors Note: Thanks for the reviews guys, I appreciate it. Glad you liked their meeting, it was....hard to write? No, I don't think hard is the word. More like an...agonizing, obnoxious, pain in the ass to write. Yeah, that's more like it! Alrighty Mayonaka, here's the deal. You update your ficcy, and I'll write the next chapter the same day you update. XD is that like...legal? Do I care? No? Well, you know me. Moving on!


Bond of Dignity - - CH4 ; Sadistic Being


 Rinoa walked into Deling city. There was a firm look on her face, one that was unmistakably rage. Angry; no, that was not the proper definition. She was out raged. Completely and utterly disgusted. She had never been more embarrassed in her life.


She slid her I.D card through the scanner, and, hastily, walked towards her Father's office. Her heels clicked against the tiled floor, rather loudly at that. People looked at her with questioning expressions. She sneered at them and, without knocking, entered Caraway's study.


Rinoa slammed her folder down on his desk.


What the FUCK do you think you're trying to pull? she screeched, her face flushed with red, her eyes wide with rage.



She had never sworn at him before, but it went without saying, it was needed in this situation. Rinoa had no idea what he was thinking when he ordered missile launch..she supposed he wasn't. It was funny, really. Had the headmaster launched the missiles, or some higherarchy, she would not have been so distraught. She felt guilty, somewhat. She honestly could not figure out why she felt the way she did. But that was irrelevant. She did feel that way.



Excuse me young lady? Don't talk to me that way.


He didn't even look up at her. He continued scribbling something on a piece of paper, which Rinoa quickly snatched from him and ripped in half. She turned, and shut the door behind her. She figured that she, unlike her father, had sympathy to embarrassment. She would be doing a lot of that to him today.



You look at me, old man, she began, now slamming her fist against his desk. What the hell were you thinking? Dispatching missiles to gardens. I'm commander, not you. I can handle this by myself. I'd appreciate it immensely if you stayed out of my fucking affairs. Her voice did not calm. All the while, Caraway stared at her, not believing that she wasn't grateful for what he had perceived to be help'.


I'm not the one you should be bitching at, Rinoa. It was not my initiative. If you are going to blame someone, blame Chamberland. He ordered me to take action.



What? Head master Chamberland ordered you to launch missiles at Balamb?



It is not my authority to question his motives, nor is it in my place to question his orders. If you want answers, talk to him, I have work to do.



Rinoa shut her eyes. She took a long breath, trying so desperately to gain her calm, and at the same time, take the heat off of her father. She had been a little impulsive, coming here, demanding to know what he was doing. She should have given him a chance to explain. Any good commander would have.


I'm NOT a good commander, she thought to herself. Of course, this was not true. Nobody was better at commanding a garden and dealing with wars than Rinoa - except Squall Leonhart. This left her in a pretty crappy position. Of all the gardens, all the people, she had to be facing him. She had to do the impossible; out whit him.

she began; this caused a sigh to escape from his lips. She still insisted on calling him Mr.Caraway instead of father or dad. Ever since her mother died...he shook his head vigorously to rid himself ot the thought. Such things were too painful to think about.


Mr. Caraway, she repeated, I met Leonhart the other day.


This caught his attention. Being the man that he was, to say the least, he had heard of Squall. He had heard every little detail about him, from his shoe size to the amount of training he does on a daily basis. He had also heard that the commander himself was quite the heart throb amongst the women. He looked up at her.


he urged her to continue. Is he really as much of a bastard as portrayed to be?



She sighed. she sighed again.



He removed his glasses. What did you discuss?



He's an asshole. Complete and utter jerk. I hate him. She blurted things out so suddenly.



Thank you for explaining, he said.



He doesn't want to negotiate. He only wants me to call off the war. He refuses to do much else.



Caraway considered this. It made sense, he would most likely do the same if he were in Leonhart's shoes. He had tried to explain to Rinoa that her making the proposition of keeping Trabia neutral was a completely ridiculous idea. It made her look like a moron, an inexperienced fool. It was basically like saying, Hi, I can't win this war, cut me some slack, cause my garden is weak and I'm a shitty commander. She, of course, wouldn't listen.



he said, Make him...another proposition. My bet is that Leonhart thinks you are, to put it lightly, double I. Illiterate and ignorant. She turned red at this. To gain his respect and to make yourself seem sincere; to redeem yourself; you need to make a proposition he has not thought of making. My suggestion to you, as an advisor, not as your father, is to ask him if he would...individually, without the support of garden...help you and only you in finding the criminal. That is, if what he is saying is true, and balamb has nothing to do with these casualties.



Her head jolted at his words, She widened her eyes and furrowed her brow, making it clear she had no idea what the hell he was talking about. Such a proposition was clearly stupid. Why in the name of hyne would he want to do such a thing? He hated her; as she did him. Rinoa couldn't stand to be in the same room as the son of a bitch. She sighed. It really wasn't all that bad an idea...but still...it would be a pain in the ass.



Why would I want to do that? she asked him, more out of curiosity than anything else.



Gain his trust and get the dish, if you know what I mean. But whatever you do, Rinoa, don't fall in love with him. And make sure he does not fall in love with you. For if this turns out to be the case, Chamberland will have him executed for scandal. I, personally, like Leonhart. He is a gift to this world, in a sense. As arrogant as he may be, he still knows how to command a garden. Someday, his allied forces could help us achieve. You have connections, Rinoa. Use them wisely.



Well, that shouldn't be too tough - I mean...the love part. Who in their right mind could ever love him? I'd shoot myself before falling for that bastard.



____________________


Squall muttered something that sounded like a curse, and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. He wore, as required in balamb, his commander uniform. Cid had had uniforms made for all the top level individuals in garden. Squall's was, basically, the same as the SeeD uniforms--with the exception of coloring. The commander's uniform was white, black trim. His boots the same shade as the trim. He didn't much like the uniform, white had never been his color. Not that it did not look flattering on him; it did; but he thought white was a weak' color. It was light, feathery. Black was intimidating. Which was why he demanded the black trim after Cid insisted he wore white.


Seifer had been thrilled when presented with his uniform. They had chosen red for him and Quistis, most likely because of their coloring. Blonde; blue eyes. This made Squall crinkle his nose. Were they holding a fashion show? Why couldn't they simply wear what they felt like?


He dismissed the thought and stepped into the hallway. For once he was alone, careless; or atleast as careless as one could be when fighting a war. And no one bothered him. Atleast not physically. He, of course, received the stares from the male cadets and SeeD's, and the giggles from the girls. He had always been annoyed by this. He quickened his pace to his office, noting the time on his silver watch. He was 10 minutes late already.


He soon arrived, finding Quistis and Seifer positioned at their desks. Seifer had a hard look on his face; where as Quistis looked bewildered. She held the phone's receiver in her hand, raising it to meet Squall's. He gave her a look that clearly said what in the name of hyne? but did not question. Placing the receiver to his ear, he spoke.


Commander Squall.


Good morning commander, this is Heartilly.


He nearly toppled over--actually, he would have, had Seifer not positioned a chair directly behind him. Slumping into the piece of furniture, he stuttered again.


Uh..uh, yes, is there something you want? his voice was baffled and annoyed at the same time. He distinctly remembered their encounter two days before, sadly. Needless to say, he did NOT care much for commander Heartilly. Hell, he thought her the most annoying women he had ever had the displeasure of meeting.



I am sorry if this is too early for you, Commander. But there is something I wish to speak to you about.


Her voice was confident, which surprised him. And, for once, it seemed she was being considerate. This, he found amusing. He was no fool, nor was she. But at this point, he was beginning to think she was completely idiotic. She wanted something. Otherwise, she would not be being so cautious.

I'm listening, he said.


Well, um, sir, I would prefer speaking to you in person. This weekend, perhaps? The matter is of utmost importance, which is why I request seeing you personally.


Squall sighed. Did she ever give up? She would, without a doubt, pull the whole help me win the war against you' act. And to hell would he give in. She was impulsive; inexperienced. This quality showed through her blatedly. She did not know how to properly conduct herself when dealing with the enemy. This, a commander could NEVER afford.


It wasn't as if Squall himself had been top-notch when appointed commander. He distinctly remembered Cid having to tell him what, when, and how to do things over and over again. But, he had never made stupid decisions. His ability to deal with political figures surpassed that of any leader garden had ever had. It wasn't the past that mattered now--it was the present. And in the present, Squall Leonhart was the better of the two.




I suppose, he sighed.



Erm..I think it would be best that we do not make this meeting public. Meet me at the pub in Dollet this friday night. 8 pm. See you then, commander.


Her voice was playful. He raised an eyebrow at her words, a little bedazzled at what she had proposed. What she would propose, he suspected, would be even more strange. She was a very, very strange person. And, strangely, she was intriguing.


___________________

So, Squall, didn't get a chance to talk to you earlier. What's the deal?


Seifer took a sip of his black coffee. He tapped his shoe on the tiled floors of the cafeteria, a raised eyebrow gesturing towards Squall. Seifer himself had been able to draw many conclusions after the meeting. One of which was that they would win this war, needless to say. He had thought prior to their encounter that the rumors about Heartilly being so fantastic at what she does was true. He was doubtful now. She had been too forceful, and her proposition was completely absurd. Not only that, but he didn't like the way she and Squall had interacted.


At first, he couldn't help but notice that gaping look she had given him. Then the gasp, and the nerves she was so openly showing. Before he had entered, she had seemed calm and confident. Yet she had melted under his gaze. It wasn't as if the attraction was one sided, either. He had most definitely had the same reaction. Sure, it wasn't to that extent, but Almasy could see the sparks flying. Something he had never seen Squall have before shown when he met her. Peace. This, he would have never expected. Hell, he didn't think squall had peace in his veins.






The phone call.



Oh, that. She uh..she wanted to..to apologize.







The missile dispatching. It seems there was a misunderstanding. That's all.


Without words, Squall brushed away the conversation, leaving Seifer open to strike up a new one.


Seifer asked quietly, in a voice Squall had never heard him use before.







Ever think bout what life would be like without garden? If we had real families, and a place to call home?



Squall stared at him blankly. Had he? Well, sure, once or twice, maybe..when he was a child. Now, sitting there, he seriously considered what life would be like. Different, that was for sure. How would he act? Would he be less cold? Less afraid of relationships? Would he be happier? Would he be living in a small country house by Winhill, fishing every day after schooling? Would he have brothers, sisters, cousins? Hell, what would his parents be like? For a moment, just a small fraction in time, Squall was...sad. He was sad he never had the chance to have a chance at a real life. But then again...nobody, no, nobody could change their fate and destiny.



Garden is my home. Honestly, Seifer, I need not to question it. Things happen. That's just the way it works.



He stood without another word, placing a gloved hand over his coffee, and left Seifer looking at him, puzzled. He had half expected Squall to give him a half way decent answer, but on the same token, he knew that would never happen. Squall didn't like anyone, to be frank. Much less political associates. Squall had never looked at Seifer as a friend; they had been rivals since they had first set foot on garden grounds. Despite this, Seifer had graciously taken the blow of second in command well. He knew, just as Squall did, that Squall was the better fighter. It didn't bother him in the least; for he had been the reason Squall was so good, in a sense. He kept him going, fighting, striving to be the best. He kept him on his toes during training. Without Seifer, Squall would have never had the motivation to be the best.



Seifer raised his eyebrows and shook his head, wondering what on earth made Squall leonhart himself.


_________________


The night cast it's shadow over Deling City, but it was not the only shadow lurking around the border. Two men walked silently, smiles just barely inching at their lips. The man on the left was reasonably taller. He wore a black hat, which concealed shaven, red hair. His eyes were the color of nightfall, a deep, dark blue. His companion stood at his right, wearing the same type of hat, which hid the short, blonde, and curly hair. The taller was the first to speak.



Stupid gardens, stupid stupid. Things are going accordingly, Jay. All is proceeding as planned. Those ridiculous fools will go to war, plummet into bankruptcy, and all the while we slaughter these Timberian bimbo's. Easy, isn't it? Soon, soon Jay. We'll have the place of that damn Loire ass on the throne of Esthar. And soon we'll have a capitol of our own, how's Reicherville sound?



The man stuck both his hands in his pockets, grinning sheepishly at no one and nothing in particular. He turned to where his partner walked, awaiting an answer that he guessed would be snide.


Look, Chess. I'm not in the mood for your inane and insane dreams. This mission is failing..miserably. That bitch of a commander is doing us all in, and that other scum bag too.











Wig out about it, why don't you. Look. Let's just do what Dracne tells us, and not question. This is a shit load of money, and a helluh power. Get used to it, brother.



So what're we doing now?



Assassinating Leonhart's second in command. Assassinating Almasy.













Authors Note: Sorry r so short. ::beats self:: and sorry it took so long. I feel like a dud, and I realllllly don't like this chapter. So shoot me, k thx.