~

Squall choked on a mouthful of saltwater; his eyes burned terribly from thick liquid saline. But he dared not shut them; he stared his blinking eyelids into the darkening abyss. A frigid-cold pressure collapsed into him, and heaved out his remaining breath. Lacerations on his arms and chest gave mighty screams as salt rushed in.

He reached out, struggled blindly; peered into the cold and pressing void. Tumbling over himself in suspension, his sense of direction soon slipped away. Discouragement and panic crept into his aching heart.

It was not too late! There was still time! Just a little deeper...

His lungs were ablaze for want of a sweet breath of air. But he drove his hands further into the blackening abyss. His jacket was bloated and heavy, filled with the surrounding water, and made every movement a battle. He longed to shed the hindrance off, but no time.

Squall...why don't I understand you? Please, just let me...

Waves of panic shook him throughout. He could see her! He would make it in time! That spot of light in the blackness...it was her!

He fought his convulsing chest, and thrashed his arms and legs, pressing toward the light with all the strength he still bore. He felt the salt-filled water flow across his bruised face. He knew he was moving. But the light was not growing any closer.

Squall...I'm trying...I'm trying my best. But when will you help me?

The spot of light touched his cheek. He cried in silent despiration to the pressing waters, for it was nothing but a pure white feather.

A violent splash; an explosive release from the cold abyss. He felt his chest expand tenfold -- ready to burst -- and then force a violent contraction. A thousand such breaths flooded in and out, within seconds. His eyes were swollen shut, his skull pounded from the inside out. The waves rolled quietly about him, as he struggled to stay afloat.

He would go back down...he had to! There was still time!

Exhaustion was taking its toll. He began to sink; the water was raising to his chin, and he fought to keep his gasping mouth clear of the waves.

"Man overboard! Man overboard! Activating rescue measures!"

No, leave him in the water! He had to try again!

Squall...it hurts...I've been trying for so long...and I can't do it alone...

A metallic clamp tugged at his water-logged jacket, and Squall felt the leather tearing as his body lifted from the icy water.

The clamp released him, and a cold, hard surface met his buckling legs. He frantically rubbed at his eyes, blinking away what salt he could.

"All hands on deck! First-aid needed on deck!"

The robotic voice's alarmed cry increased the throbbing in his head. Vision blurred painfully, focusing on the metal floor he sat upon. The once-shining silver was hidden under a pool of blackening blood. The guardrail beside him, tall as his chest when he stood, was splashed in the dripping liquid.

He could make it to his knees; no further. His arms, visible through torn jacket sleeves, wrapped around the wide guardrail. Weary muscles strained, as he fought to thrust himself over the rail, and back into the waiting waves.

Squall...it hurts too much to try...I feel ready to give up.

Panic shook through him like a pounding pulse, shortening his breaths, weakening what remained of his tense frame. His hands slipped on the blood. He dropped from the rail, and landed on his face.

He lay in the pool, panting for any sign of strength to return. And as he lay, he followed the blood with his eyes. It ran in a trail on the ship's walkway floor. Bloody handprints covered the walls, and ran along the guardrail. The trail and the handprints grew fresher and brighter, as they grew closer to their source.

At the edge of the ship's bow, Seifer Almasy lay crumpled and still on his side. His face, chest, and arms were soaked bright red in blood. His silver trench coat was spattered in dripping red. The sharp, cold point of Squall's gunblade was torn through the back.

Squall...please don't wait until it's too late! I can't hurt like this forever!

Seifer's gloved hand lay against the steel deck. His open hand was soaked in blood, and was filled with torn and ruffled white feathers.

~

"I'm sorry, Rinoa. I can't make it this time."

He leaned over the Nebrian balcony, facing the skyscraper's dizzying heights with a look of calm. The icy wind blew at his hair, and stung dryly into his eyes.

"I'd make it out to sea, if I could," he said. "But Diablos seems to think I'm best off staying here. But I'm thinking of you."

He raised his head, and looked up. Above him, the massive figure of Diablos floated silently in the air. His dark, muscular form was wrapped in the blue and red of pulsing veins. Razored claws adorned his hands and feet. Wide, leathery wings flapped slowly at his shoulders. His face was covered in a bone-like mask, shaped into the skull of a fanged beast.

"I'm making things better," whispered Squall. "Little by little. But it's not enough. It's too late for you...too late for us. Maybe we never had a chance..."

He clenched his fist. "I couldn't give you what you needed...and I can't undo what happened to you. But I won't let it go without retribution. I'll kill him again...I'll kill him as many times as it takes, I swear to you. Whatever Seifer has become, he won't feel a moment's peace...I'll hunt him down for the rest of my life, if I have to."

His eyes closed tightly. "It's all I'm good at," he sighed."

Squall released a small, white feather from his palm. It carried into the sky, blowing off into the darkness.

~