XX
"Whatever is begun in anger ends in shame."
--Benjamin Franklin

When Squall returned to his quarters, he found them empty. Aya had gone--not that he had really expected her to stay and wait up for him--and Rinoa was absent, although he had only a vague idea of where she had gone. There was an inked note lying on the table, written in a hurried scrawl across the back of an old official document. Squall, it read. Meet me in the training center.

Bring your gunblade.

Everything still functioning in his mind this late at night froze, doubled back on itself, and went spiraling off in a haze of confused memory and stunned disbelief.

He turned to the clock on the wall, searching for something that could possibly make sense of things. It was late--almost eleven. Just like-- Just like--

He turned the note over. It wasn't signed, but he had a fair idea of who it was who had left it. He turned it over again, and read it again. It did nothing to clear the cloud of surreality that was beginning to shroud the night.

He crumpled the paper in his hand, glancing back toward his room where the Revolver Advanced was lying in its case, ready for use. He could ignore the message, just go in and go to sleep--but he knew he wasn't going to. He had been given a challenge. And if there was one thing he was known for, it was that he never let a challenge go unanswered.

Aya shifted her grip on the Hyperion, searching for the sweet spot on the hilt. She hadn't used it in years, despite having trained in it initially; she was quite literally stretching unused muscles. She had warmed up against some of the weaker monsters in the Training Center, and felt ready for just about anything the world might decide to throw at her. She only wished that it would hurry up with the throwing before she started to second-guess herself.

"...Aya."

Aya stiffened at the familiar voice, and turned slowly to face the entrance. "I was beginning to think that you weren't coming," she said.

Squall raised his gunblade in a dignified salute. "Were you?"

Aya flicked a salute back, turning slightly and settling down into her read position, blade extended and elbow only slightly crooked. "I figured you'd probably come. I just wasn't sure how long you'd be away in meetings." She flashed im a sardonic grin. "And old men like you get tired easily," she added.

Squall ignored the barb. "You wanted me to come."

"Yeah." Aya wished that Tiamat had given her clearer instructions. The dragon had been quite vague.

"And?"

"It's been a while since we dueled," she said. "I know Weaponsmaster Garrison has been running you around the practice rooms on a regular basis, but I'd like to see if I've gotten any better. There's a lot of stuff I just recently learned that I'd like to adapt to gunblade."

"And?"

Aya blinked at him for a moment, then straightened up. Resting the tip of the Hyperion on the ground, she gestured impatiently. "And what?"

"You didn't just come to train," Squall stated. "You could have waited another day. And if all you wanted was to adapt some knife techniques, it would be easier to do so by yourself. I want to know why I'm here."

Aya could have sworn, but she didn't--mainly to keep him from knowing that he had just gained control over the situation. "Really?" she asked, pulling up the gunblade. "You're here to defend yourself."

Lunging forward, she swung the Hyperion in a tight arc that came perilously close to Squall's leg. The Revolver Advanced made the tiniest movement, flicking away the attack with ease. Squall brought his weapon up into his ready stance, eyes never leaving her.

Aya rotated her wrist, bringing the blade around to rest against Squall's. "Your move," she informed him.

"What am I defending myself against?" he asked, tightening his grip.

"How much do you remember of the forty eighties?"

Squall disengaged the blade, gaining room for a short lunge. Aya dodged it without bothering to meet the sword, ducking forward and launching a quick spincut attack. The Revolver Advanced traveled to Squall's side faster than she would have anticipated, and the Hyperion bounced of with nothing more than a metallic clangg! A flick of Squall's wrist brought both swords up again into the first dueling stance, blades crossed just between the two combatants.

"You dropped your shoulder too early," Squall stated. I could anticipate your attack."

"That's not what I asked," Aya snarled.

Bringing her weight to bear behind her attack, Aya slammed Squall's gunblade away and made a feint toward his heart. Squall brought the sword in to parry, and Aya took the moment to bring the point of the Hyperion dancing around his guard and score a light tap on his shoulder. Squall nodded, returning the blade to its starting position.

"That was a point," Aya said.

"Not a useful one. It didn't come close to any of the vital spots."

Aya grinned. "You're assuming that the blade isn't poisoned," she said.

Squall considered that for a moment. "I graduated from SeeD in forty eighty-four and completed the Ultimecia Campaigns that same year. In forty eighty-five was the first Sorcerer War. What do you need to know?"

"There's a lot no one knows, isn't there?" Aya asked. "Because no one's ever bothered to say anything."

Squall frowned, and lowered his gunblade. "What's going on here?" he asked darkly. "Who wrote that note? Whose idea was this fight?"

Aya was taken aback. "What makes you think that it wasn't mine?" she asked.

"What did the note say?"

The question caught her totally offguard. Snarling, she answered "None of your business," and wasn't quite sure which query she was responding to.

"In forty eighty five Seifer died. Is that what you wanted me to say?" There was a dark fire in Squall's eyes that she didn't think she had ever seen before. It was as if she was looking at another person, hidden somewhere behind the net of scars and nigh-invisible wrinkles, someone fiery and very dangerous.

It was giving her one of the biggest adrenaline rushes she had had in a while.

"Maybe," she answered.

Squall slammed the point of the gunblade into the ground, eyes blazing. "This isn't a game, Aya," he snapped. "He's dead, and--"

"Yes, I know that!" Aya responded in kind, burying the tip of the Hyperion into the dirt. "He died saving you. He tried to kill you, and then he died saving you. The history books will talk about it, but no one and nothing else. Isn't it the strangest mystery, Da? It's as if everyone is just trying to forget it!"

"And why shouldn't they?" Squall's eyes narrowed. "The past is useless. Nothing can be done about it."

"Useless!" Aya spluttered. "I don't believe you just said that! It's--the past isn't useless! It--it defines who we are, what it made us be--"

"Is that the problem? You don't know who you are?" Squall's hand fisted on the hilt of the blade, but he didn't raise it. "Why do you need my past to determine your identity?"

"Your past! Do you even know how damn famous you are--how damn infamous he was? And where do you think that puts me? You're my father-- and everyone seems to know what that means except you."

"Are you trying to accuse me of something?"

"No. ...yes! I don't know any more!" She bristled. "When you were this age, you were already making headlines. Do you have any idea what kind of a shadow that is to grow up in? All I want to know is who in hell I'm supposed to be!"

"Aya Leonhart," Squall answered. His voice was flat and uncompromising.

Aya ripped the Hyperion from the ground, brandishing it furiously. "No!" she roared, taking a two-handed grip on the light blade. Her knuckles were pale with anger and force. "Not just that. I'm more than just my father's daughter. I'm more than just some echo of you!"

Aya struck, feeling his counter ringing in all the bones of her body. She disengaged and struck again, feeling a Limit welling up inside her and not remembering quite how to channel it into this kinds of a fight. The blades whipped before her eyes too fast to trace, leaving explosions of sparks and reflected Training Center lights which dazzled her vision.

Squall seemed to be fighting a completely different battle--his eyes were fixed somewhere on the middle distance between the swords and Aya herself, and to all appearances running on instinct alone. Every dodge, counter and strike was textbook-precise and tactically impeccable--but it was as if he was caught in a melee, without focus or direction, fighting in order to fight, caught in a place where he couldn't run away.

And the tiniest bit of that lost concentration might have averted what then occurred.

Aya feinted in and dodged ot one side as me moved to block, causing him to overextend himself grievously. In a fluid motion she brought the Hyperion up past her left ear and swept it downward, leaving him to struggle to raise his blade before the blow fell...

He parried and struck--struck with a bit too much force; sent the Hyperion spinning into the bushes, and slammed the sword into her face with barely enough time to change the angle so that most of the blow was delivered by the flat instead of the blade. Aya's head snapped around and her body followed it; she twisted and fell to the ground with her arms going up to protect her head instinctively. Squall dropped the Revolver Advanced in shock, kneeling down to see if he had dealt her serious harm--

He didn't have time to register movement, only pain. It lanced across his face from his jaw up over his cheekbone and stopped somewhere just below his right temple, very close to his eye. Suddenly Aya was more-or-less on her feet, crouched in front of him and baring her teeth angrily. One of her smaller concealed daggers was in her hand, a bruise was swelling on the left side of her head, and blood was pouring from a cut across her left cheekbone.

"That's enough!"

The authoritative voice startled them both out of the confrontation, and each one immediately looked over to the entrance--where Quistis stood, arms akimbo, with a look of supreme annoyance on her face. Both combatants froze, her unexpected intrusion throwing both of them offguard. Quistis advanced sternly, shaking her head.

"Look at the pair of you," she admonished as they straightened up. "I see you've managed to injure each other already. I am very glad that I was the one to find you here, so that the rest of Garden wouldn't have to see its Commander engaging in a brawl like a raw cadet!"

Squall locked both hands behind his back and tried to look dignified. "We were dueling," he stated.

"Of course you were. You're both coming to the Infirmary to see Doctor Sable now, and then you're going to go back to your quarters. Aya, it's well after curfew, and Squall, you need to change out of that bloody uniform before you meet the White SeeDs in your office."

"White SeeDs?"

Quistis nodded. "They're up from Centra with a bit of information and a lot of questions. They'd like to see you at your earliest convenience. But not--" she added swiftly, "before you get healed and cleaned up."

Aya turned sullenly and picked Hyperion up from where it had fallen. Then she turned and stalked out of the door. Quistis took a few steps after her, but was halted abruptly.

"Don't," Squall warned. Quistis turned back, incredulous.

"Squall, I honestly don't think--"

"I've gone after her enough times to know that it's no use."

Quistis thought for a moment, then sighed and nodded. "Well, if anyone would know, it would be you," she conceded. "Let's get you healed up, at least."

Squall nodded, and quietly resheathed his blade.

Aya slipped into the suite quietly, crossing the distance to her room and locking the door behind her before Rinoa could come out of her room to see why she was coming in so late. Moving a hand up to gingerly hold the side of her face, she became aware that a pair of yellow eyes were gleaming at her from the direction of her bed. It was too dark in the room to see anything else, but Aya had a fair idea of who it was even before the figure spoke.

"You're hurt," Tiamat said.

"I've had worse." Aya wiped away the blood which was coating her cheek, and--for lack of a better place to put it--wiped it off on her shirt hem. "If this thing was supposed to make me figure anything out, it failed pretty miserably. All I learned was how much he hates answering questions." And how little patience I have, came up from the corner of her mind.

"Oh, you can't have believed that you would get everything in an instant," Tiamat drawled. "Life isn't that easy."

"I was afraid you'd say something like that," Aya growled.

Tiamat's eyes blinked slowly. "You should get that cut taken care of," she said. "You're going to develop a scar if you don't."

"Bite me," Aya growled.

"I don't think that would be very pleasant for either of us," Tiamat retorted. "What I've done here is give you the first step, Aya. It's up to you to take the rest."

"And what in hell was this 'first step' supposed to get me?" Aya demanded.

Tiamat chuckled softly. "Think about it long enough," she said. "You'll figure it out sooner or later. But don't think to long, or the opportunity might pass."

With a psychic flash, the eyes disappeared and Aya felt Tiamat junctioning herself inside her skull.

"What opportunity?" she asked. But Tiamat didn't answer.