I let out an animal like scream as I withdrew my blade from his body a second time, and took no notice of the blood that spilled from the wound. All I saw was the pain that crossed his face, and I knew I'd injured him.
Two clean hits for me, none for him.
He got to his feet, and clutched his wounded shoulder. "Now this is what I've been waiting for," he said and he smiled through his pain. "Better make it worth my while, Micala."
"Count on it," I said and I lunged at him once again, and my blade caught him across the midsection. It cut deep, through his clothing and into his flesh. I couldn't be sure, but I thought perhaps it had gone deep enough to do major damage to vital organs. To find that out, I only needed a couple of minutes, for he'd grow weak from blood loss. Not even a Curaga could take care of a wound that bad.
I had injured him enough to make him reach his limit break, and inwardly I groaned, but I was prepared. He twirled his blade in the air, spun around to the right and slashed the blade vertically. It came low, across my legs. I jumped back in time to avoid serious damage, but the tip of the blade snagged my right shin deep enough to bring blood to the surface. His next attempt, I blocked with my Hyperion. Our blades crashed together in a deafening metallic clang, and I pushed him back towards the elevator doors.
"That all you got?" I asked feeling more confident than I had before.
"Just getting started," he said and he flashed a twisted grin. There was blood on his teeth, and on his lips, and it made him look like a savage monster rather than a man.
The Leonharts have always used their gunblade with two hands. I was thankful daddy, that you had taught me to use one hand, for I may not have had the leverage or force behind my strikes that Gideon had, but there were advantages to doing it our way. For one thing, it freed up my left hand to pattern spells as I struck, though I rarely did this. Another thing was the range of motion one hand allows. A two hander has a limit on the direction the blade strikes, for it usually stops short, however there's more power behind a hit because two hands provide more control. A one hander may strike at any angle of their choosing, and movement is more fluid, but the strikes are less powerful due to a lack of control. It is also far easier to lunge with one hand, for you're able to turn your body to the side and avoid jabs. With two hands, this maneuver is awkward, never mind that it looks ridiculous. It's more or less a choice between skill or force.
I have always enjoyed the flexibility of using my blade one handed, and I was not proven wrong as I fought Gideon. It was easier to block his attacks, easier to get a clean hit on him and easier to stab at him with the tip of the blade. Though we were evenly matched, it seemed I received far fewer injuries than he did.
He struck at me, his blade sliced downward and I side stepped it with ease. His blade crashed into the floor, hard. When he raised it once more, I saw that the blade edge was a five inch crack that radiated from the tip. He'd put so much power behind his attack, that he'd damaged his weapon. Should he strike something with that much force again, even me, the weapon would be rendered useless.
I grinned at him and spun away from his next attack, like a dancer, and I was momentarily glad for the dance classes I'd been forced to endure. I let the momentum of the spin carry my blade upwards as I turned to face him again, and my blade caught him under the chin and his head rocked back from the force of the attack.
As I struck again, I cast Triple on myself and then pounded him with a Meteor spell, an Ultima and a Demi. He fell to the ground with a cry of pain and rage, but he quickly got to his feet and cured himself. Strength renewed, he parried every slash, and retaliated with more strength than I'd realized he had. Despite his renewed vigor, I countered his moves with speed and skill, not willing to back down.
We danced there on the catwalk, two skilled fighters, battling it out to the death. I might have admired his abilities, had it merely been a training session. Anyone watching from the sidelines might have been awed by the intensity and strength, by the carefully timed movements and strikes, by the skillful way each maneuver was executed and then countered. It was almost as if it were old times in the training center, for our battles there had been nearly as intense as the real thing. Competition had driven us to it back then, and both of us had frequently disregarded the rules and regulations that governed training in favor of trying to best the other. I'd never beaten him in training, Daddy, but that was because I'd always held back, while he never bothered to use a little restraint.
Restraint was not an option, however. I let loose everything I had, and I could only hope that everything was enough to carry me through to the end, victorious. I had the benefit of knowing most of his tricks as well as I knew my own, while some of mine I'd only attempted in real battle, never on him. This was to my advantage, and after a lengthy blade to blade battle, I was able to strike him again, this time a swift downward slice that hit him right between the eyes. Had he not seen it coming, and it caught him off guard. He stumbled backwards a little, regained his footing and then came after me.
He swung his blade like a baseball bat, and I felt the cold metal edge slice deep into my upper left arm. The pain was intense, but I merely gritted my teeth and let fly a hard upward slash that knocked his blade from his hand. It careened through the air, struck the railing and slipped between the bars. Seconds later, there was a metallic clang as it struck something below.
I grinned at him and advanced with my blade held out to the side. "You're mine," I said in a low voice. Behind me, I heard something explode, then realized, I had done it. In my fury, I'd let control of my power slip, and something inanimate had paid the price.
I wasn't prepared for the swift, sweeping kick he executed. His foot slammed into my hand, and the force sent my blade flying out of my grip. It seemed to move in slow motion as it flew away from me, hit the railing and crashed to the floor behind me. To get it, I would have to turn my back on him and risk being attacked. I would just have to face him, hand to hand until one of us became exhausted or died.
I went after him, boxing style, distracting him with punches and feints,
so that he was surprised when I knocked him off his feet with a perfect
front sweep kick. He landed on his back and I let loose an Ultima
spell, which he dodged by rolling out of the way in time to avoid it.
Gideon grabbed my foot, twisted it and I fell to the floor with a heavy
thud. My head hit the tile hard enough to blur my vision and knock
the breath from me. Then, he straddled my chest and grinned down
at me. "You underestimate me."
He threw punch after punch, each striking me in the face. I felt my nose crack and my lips split open as he pummeled me with his fists. An eerie keening sound came from his throat as he hit me. It was a kind of whistle, like the sound someone makes when their lungs are full of fluid.
I forced my eyes to focus, so that I could look at him. At the corner of his mouth was a slender trickle of blood. Not much, but enough to tell me the damage had been done. He was strong now, but how much longer could he last with internal injuries? Not much longer, I was certain. Depending on the injury, he might be alert for another half hour, or maybe only a few more minutes. A person can bleed to death in about eight minutes if a major artery or vein is severed, but I already knew that I hadn't accomplished that. To put it plainly, there just wasn't enough blood, though there was more than enough to make us look like victims in a slasher flick.
He'd weakened me with his physical attacks, and it was difficult to see clearly without focusing. I could continue this for a few more minutes at best, but not for as long as a half hour, even if I held back.
It was then that I remembered the switchblade I'd tucked into my dress earlier. It had a nice, serrated edge on it, and though it probably wasn't very sharp, it would make an effective stabbing tool. Gideon must have seen it at the same time I remembered, for he ceased his attacks and reached for it.
Instead of grabbing for the knife myself, I head butted him and rolled away when he reeled back in pain. I cured some of my injuries and scrambled over to my blade as he tried to regain his composure.
As I reached for it, the elevator doors slid open and both Gabriel and Maia appeared.
This was the moment I'd been waiting for.
I seized the blade and quickly got to my feet, as Gideon's attention
turned toward the elevator. "Brother," Gideon said, "good to see
you."
"Wish I could say the same to you," Gabriel said and he unsheathed his blade. The expression on his face was already one of terrible grief and regret, and he could not tear his eyes away from his other half. "I wish this could have ended differently."
"You knew me for what I was, Gabe," Gideon said. "You just never wanted to admit it."
Gabriel raised his blade to strike, and Maia too prepared for the fight. "I'm sorry I have to do this."
"You'd kill your own flesh and blood?"
My knight's face crumpled a little, and tears glistened in his eyes. "It's the only way to save you, brother. I've got no other choice."
It was then that I chose to to strike the final blow. The rage inside me had built up to a crescendo, and I had no choice but to release it. I surged forward with every ounce of strength I had left, Hyperion held out in front of me, and I screamed as I closed my eyes, knowing that the blade would hit it's mark. It plunged through flesh, through bone, and it's tip came out the other side.
I leaned over his shoulder and saw his shocked expression as he stared down at the blade protruding from his stomach. "Yuh...yuh..." was all he could say. Blood filled his mouth and began to spill out, down his chin and onto his already blood soaked shirt. The coppery scent of it filled my nose and I could swear I could almost taste it. I gripped the handle of the sword and pulled it slowly out. Blood gushed down his shirt and began to pool on the floor.
"You can bend me" I whispered in his ear, "but never break me."
I looked up then, at my friends who stood in shocked silence before me. Their faces were pale moons in the darkness, and for a moment, I thought that they were apparitions, not the real thing.
In front of them, stood Aida's ghost.
Gideon lifted his arm slowly and pointed to her, then looked back at me with anguished blue eyes as his body began to quiver. "Si...si..sis...ter"
"Aida," I told him. "Her name, is Aida."
Aida said nothing, but she lifted her hand and made a cutting motion across her throat, then pointed to Maia. There was nothing innocent in Aida's eyes as she stared at me and I understood what it was that she wanted us to do. I nodded to her, and then looked up at Maia. "Can you finish this?" I asked her.
Maia nodded slowly and she moved forward. "Micala, step back," she said.
I got out of her way and pressed the knuckles of my right hand to my bruised lips to trap the scream I knew would come. Already, I made a high pitched sound in my throat, a kind of hysterical whine that was completely unlike me.
"Gideon, you know what this is for," she said coldly as she swung her blade to the side.
I didn't watch his head fall to the floor, nor did I see his body convulse at the shock of being so suddenly disconnected from it's central processing unit. I'd seen it before on the battle field, and I didn't care to see it again. I could only fall to my knees and press my face into my hands as I let out a final anguished cry.
It was over.
Killing Gideon Leonhart was not as satisfying as I'd thought it would be. I'd thought, revenge would taste sweet, that it would bring instant gratification, but it didn't. It didn't change anything, really. I'd been waiting for the moment when I struck him down and I'd found that once it came, it didn't really make me feel any better. If anything, it made me a cold blooded murderer.
Granted, Gideon was worse than I, but I too had done a cowardly thing in stabbing him in the back. Perhaps it would have been more noble to kill him face to face, but I don't think it would have made a bit of difference. Given the chance, he would have done the same thing to me anyhow, but that didn't make it any easier. I'd prided myself on not being like him, when the truth was, I was more like him than I cared to admit. Though I had a conscience, I was still at heart, a cold, efficient killer.
I was afraid to look at Gabriel when I finally got to my feet. I didn't want to see his expression or the hurt in his eyes. I knew that there was a possibility that he might not love me after this. If he didn't, I didn't want to know just yet. I picked up my blade and leaned against the railing, looking out over Garden.
"We can't tell dad about this," Maia said as she came to my side. "It would kill him."
I looked at her and saw how shaken she was by what she'd done. She was pale and her hands shook as they clasped the rail in front of her. She was right. Squall had lost his wife, his father, and now, his son. To know that his son was the cause of all of this would be the final blow, and it would very likely destroy him.
I didn't have the heart to do that. Through all the years, I'd looked up to Squall Leonhart as a mentor, and later, as a comrade and maybe, even a friend. He'd loved Gideon as much as we all had, and he'd believed in him, even when Gideon had failed him. How could we take that away from a man who'd already lost so much?
"We'll blame it on Danau," I told her, and I turned back toward Gideon's body. I very nearly threw up at the sight of his headless body sprawled back on the tile floor in a pool of crimson. I swallowed back bile and crouched down beside him to retrieve the detonator buttons in his shirt pocket.
I held them up for her to see and then handed them to her. "Let's
go get him," I said.
It was easy enough to set it up to look as if Gideon had given his life to save Garden. Danau was already badly cut up thanks to Maia, and Gabriel dragged his body down to the second floor catwalk without saying a word to us about it. For whatever reason, he was going along with it. He too must have wanted this to stay a secret, for Gideon had been part of him. He didn't want to crush what was left of his father's spirit any more than we did.
Once Danau's body was in place Maia put the detonator buttons in his hand and she retrieved Gideon's gunblade from the lower floor. This, she placed in Danau's other hand and stepped back. Then, I cast several Fiarga spells on him, and followed them with a few Flares so that it would be more convincing.
"Let's go see if everyone's all right," I said. I was exhausted, but there was still the mess in the ballroom to deal with.
"Wait," Gabriel said, finally able to speak. "You're forgetting something."
"What?" I asked. I was still unable to look at him, for fear that I would see loathing in his eyes.
"Security tapes," he said and he pointed up at a camera fixed above the elevator. "They pick up everything, even in low light."
"Aw, shit," I said in disbelief. We would have to add theft to our list of criminal actions, though I supposed if we were going to go so far as to set it all up, we'd have to go the distance and destroy the tapes. "Let's go," I said with a sigh.
Imagine my surprise when I found you there daddy, sitting before the television screens in the control room. The expression on your face was one of disappointment and confusion and of great sadness.
"Daddy!" I cried, startled. You must have known we were coming, for you weren't watching the screens when we entered, you were watching the door.
"Hi baby," you said and you stole a glance at one of the monitors.
"How much did you see?"
"Enough," you replied and you got to your feet. "Start explaining. Now."
I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole thing then, Daddy. I wanted
to, but I didn't have the time or the energy. All I said was, "Don't
ask questions, Daddy. Please. Just trust that we did the right
thing."
"Micala, I saw most of it."
"And things aren't always what they seem," I replied and I approached the stack of VCR's that had recorded our every movement. "Didn't you teach me that?"
"I didn't teach you to fight like that," you replied, and your disappointment brought tears to my eyes.
"Trust me, daddy. Believe me when I say we did what we had to do."
I know you didn't understand, but for some reason, you relented and never spoke a word of it to anyone. Do you know how much I appreciate that? It meant a lot to me that you'd protect me, even if you thought I'd done something terribly wrong. I don't know if you believed that there was more to it than what you saw, or if you were afraid of what would happen to me if the truth was found out. I suppose it doesn't matter, since you did keep it to yourself. Now that you know, perhaps you see it in a different light. I hope so.
You turned away from me, and went to the door, but before you opened
it, you said to me, "Micala, Julian's dead. Ellone too."
****Notes****
One more chapter to go, and then the epilogue.
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