*AUTHOR'S NOTES* yep. I'm back. You know that music festival I was talking about last chapter in Toronto where I was supposed to have time to write? Well IT WAS CANCELLED. Due to SARS. What the hell!? There's a greater chance of being hit by a monster truck downtown at exactly 12:08 than catching it. *rolls eyes*. My school is paranoid. Anyway, weekend practices for the drama production were re-scheduled due to the cancellation and thus monopolized all my time. The show was last weekend. I was directing until one of the stars came down with mono one week before opening night (how cliché is that?) and I had to be an emergency understudy. This has been the craziest month of my life so far! BUT IT'S OVER!! WOOHOO! Back to writing.

~*Chapter 14*~

Sanguine Dawn

*A conscience does not prevent sin. It only prevents you from enjoying it.*

Zell slung his SeeD duffle bag over his shoulder in a desperate attempt to make the weight of his not-so-light luggage more comfortable for his journey home. Since his 18th birthday, Zell had become sort of the unofficial, Garden partygoer. But tonight had been one of those nights when his heart just wasn't in it. The sad truth was: he'd rather spend a few days in the peaceful company of his mother any day than succumb to yet another invitation to yet another lame student excuse to get drunk and attempt to further oneself in the sexual baseball system.

Zell considered this maternal preference to be incredibly pathetic and unhealthy for someone of his age and blossoming popularity. So he found it better to leave during the quiet hours of night (or early morning technically), while his companions and those who looked up to him as the Garden He-man would either be passed out or too drunk to notice him slipping out for a much needed retreat from his reputation.

*I blame Irvine* thought Zell, as he tiptoed his way toward the parking lot, remembering how the cowboy had forced him, on the night of his birthday, into a high-class get together with an inexhaustible supply of fine alcohol, hot dogs, and beautiful women. One thing was for sure; Irvine knew how to treat his friends well.

But that had ignited his addiction. . .an addiction to the attention he got while in the company of such 'refined' people (by teenage standards). None of his REAL friends had ever bothered to listen to his endless theories about the evolution of the hotdog. Nor had they ever even snickered at one of his many lawyer jokes. But these people . . .Hyne were they fun! He could simply burp and they'd laugh for hours! Never had he felt so accepted . . . so non-freakish and comfortable. He had been absolutely certain, after that first night, that he would NEVER grow tired of partying.

But his lust for it had quickly waned after a month or so when he experienced a near-fatal accident involving a hangover and waking up in the bed of the girlfriend of a world renowned pro-wrestler . . .who was, by the way, world renowned for his 'accidentally' either crippling or killing his opponents in every match.

Expert martial artist or not, there were just some 350 pound men that you did not want to piss off. Needless to say, Zell limited his drinking after barely escaping, butt naked from the fire escape that day. And with this new vow relative sobriety, the same things weren't funny anymore. It wasn't long before the stupidity of the whole concept of student gatherings was bluntly revealed.

Sure he made a casual appearance now and then to the important functions if only to entertain others, but there was no more appeal in it for him personally. And thus explaining his journey home for one of his rare weekends off.

People would probably think he got so wasted that he needed a day off.

Or they'd make up some wild story about him leaving with the Mayor of Fisherman's Horizon's daughter.

Whatever excuse they thought up for his absence, he was certain it wouldn't be half as scandalous as the truth: He simply missed his mother.

Careful to avoid any direct eye contact with the few stragglers from the party, stumbling their ways towards their dormitories, (which he didn't have the heart to tell them were in the opposite direction) he eventually made in into the narrow corridor that led to the parking lot unobserved. He instantly decided that it was way too late and he was too tired to even consider his original plan of jogging to mother's. A car would just have to do this once.

He shifted the duffle bag towards his chest as he walked and dug into it fervently, hoping against hope that he had remembered to pack his keys before leaving his dorm. However, before conducting a thorough enough search to confirm his suspicion that they were in fact still on his desk upstairs, Zell strolled right into an inanimate figure, sending whoever it was crashing to the ground along with the several strange items that were gathered in their arms.

"Oh! I'm so sorry miss!" From seeing a long dark sheet of hair covering the face of his assaultee, he could only assume it was a woman . . . but then again, Irvine had long hair . . . "I didn't see you there." He bent down to help her gather her things, genuinely shocked that anyone in Garden would be up at this hour, and in the parking lot of all places.

"It's ok Zell. Really." The woman insisted, and only after hearing his name, did he even consider looking into her face.

"Matron?" he handed the dropped items that he had gathered back into her arm, his face a mask of awe. "What are you doing here so late? Where's Cid? Where are you going?"

Matron hesitated for a moment, and Zell, from years of training, could swear that he saw a hint of fear in her face. But she recovered quickly enough, a warm smile spreading on her face, and all his reflex misgivings instantly dissolved.

"So many questions my little Zell. Is it so strange that I'm planning a surprise picnic for my husband and I?"

Zell blushed "No. It's just. . .do you know what time it is?"

"I am perfectly aware. It is the only hour of the entire day when my Cid is unconscious enough for me to sneak out and gather supplies for this whole excavation. He really does need a vacation. BADLY." she sighed, and ran her free hand through her graying hair. "But you know Cid. He will never willingly step away from his work even if he wants to. So, as the significant other of an important man, it is my job to sometimes force him into having a break so that he can blame me if any complaints arise."

"I'll remember that in case I ever marry into politics."

They walked down the remaining stretch of the hallway, laughing quietly to themselves. The parking lot came into view just as Zell finally found the keys (that were in his jacket pocket the whole time) to his *cough* "company" sports car, which was, technically, meant to be used for missions only. But what was the chance that one of those rare, fancy, undercover deals would show up this weekend of all times? Surely they wouldn't miss it for a couple of days. Edea, meanwhile, opened the trunk of one of the bulky, disgusting mission vans and dumped the contents in her arms into the storage compartment. By pure luck, he happened to get a glimpse inside despite matron's obvious attempts to block his view.

Books, strange gems, test tubes, specific medical equipment, strictly survival food supplies, and bottled water . . . not exactly the basics of your everyday 'romantic picnic'.

"So are you going to visit your mother then?" asked matron, as she hastily slammed the trunk shut, forcing his gaze to move from the van's contents.

"Uh. . .Yeah. I got the weekend off finally. Besides, it's Ma's 50th birthday next month and who knows if I'll get another chance like this to see her."

"That's sweet of you. I always knew you were a going to be a good son. One of the reasons I was so reluctant to let you go." To Zell's surprise her eyes began to shine as she said this, and she bit down on her lower lip to stop it's trembling. "But Mrs. Dintch was such a kind and lonely woman. If anyone could take proper care of you and raise you the way you deserved to be raised, it was her."

"Matron?" He moved away from his car and headed toward the woman he used to consider his mother. Gingerly, he placed a gloved hand on her shoulder and she averted her eyes to the ground, embarrassed about her sudden reaction to remembering the past of her children. "Are you alright?"

Somehow, she found the courage to look at him then, and Zell noticed details of her features that hadn't been there not too long ago. It was common knowledge that the sorceress powers extended the life of its inhibitors. Thus explaining why a woman nearing 60 had the appearance of a lean 30-year-old whilst under its influence. But now, a little over a year since her powers were transferred, age was catching up with Edea at a remarkable rate. Her face, which he had always remembered as smooth, now showed distinct skin fold around the eyes and mouth. Her silken sheet of raven hair was seemingly duller and strands of gray tainted its perfection. But the largest difference was her eyes.

Though few agreed, Zell always swore that he could tell a person's age by their eyes. The eyes of young people were always wide, large, full of hope and passion and surprises to come. While those of more mature adults eventually loose their glow, their sparkle. And now, matron's eyes as he last remembered as bright amber, reflecting the dancing flames of fire torches, had suddenly extinguished to almost black; a dull, monotonous color, like coal. It almost scared him to be looking at such concrete, physical evidence that maybe something good came out of having that kind of power.

He shook his head quickly to rid himself of such a horrible thought. Rinoa was completely miserable because of her unfortunate inheritance. Young forever or not, it would be crazy to even think about appreciating such an awesome force of utter destruction.

It was like admiring the atomic bomb for its casing. Who cared how many people it killed as long as it did it in style?

"I'm fine Zell my boy" she insisted while casually shrugging his hand away and absorbing her tears with her sleeve. "I always get emotional when I think of my children, and see how much they've all grown up. That's all."

She raised her hand to his face and lightly traced the design of his tattoo with her fingers and he smiled sheepishly. "I'm very proud of you Zell. Of what you've become. Whatever happens never doubt my love for you. . .for all of you."

"You're speaking as if you'll never see me again."

Matron remained silent. A little too long for Zell's liking.

But soon enough her smile came back, as if the 'on' button was suddenly pushed somewhere in the recesses of her brain. "Look at me, wasting all this time when you should be spending it with your mother." She twirled him around and teasingly pushed him in the direction of his car "now get going!"

Whatever tension Zell once felt, was instantly dissolved by her playfulness. He laughed stupidly, and returned to her side only briefly to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye matron" he yelled as he jogged towards his car, wanting to make Balamb before 8 AM so as not to miss out on his mother's famous pancake brunch.

Within 15 seconds, his bag was in the back, his music was blasting, and the red convertible rolled up the ramp and out of Garden.

If he had stayed a little longer, perhaps he may have seen Edea clutch her heart and fall to her knees.

Perhaps he would have witnessed her desperate weeping.

Perhaps he would have heard her whisper in return, hopelessly. "Goodbye. . ."

~*~

Quistis upended the bottle, licking away the few remaining drops that fell around her lips. Nothing was drizzling out, she realized with a scowl. She shook it a little with no change to the restricted flow. It must be stuck.

She tapped the bottom, her open mouth awaiting more of that sweet liquid that helped her problems overlap and bury themselves deeper and deeper in the recesses of her mind with each sip.

"It's empty," she decided after ten minutes of the scraping the bottle, hoping that maybe, with enough persistence, a trapped liter would could rushing out. But, alas, she was forced to eventually realize the horrible truth . . .she had exhausted her supply.

With a frustrated sigh she slumped back against the wall, then brought her wrist toward her face, eyes squinting desperately to make out the numbers on her gold watch.

5:04 it read. Almost sunrise.

She glanced at the bottle again. Then hastily threw it aside, ignorant, it seemed, to that fact that it was made of glass until she heard it shatter on the floor. She winced at the sound, partly because she knew that the mess would take a while to clean up, and partly because of the earsplitting headache the sudden loud noise produced.

"Shit." she whispered to herself, immediately throwing her hands over her ears, hoping to block out the internal, painful echo. But there was no escape. She brought this on herself, that she knew, and yes the pain was terrible. . .But it was much better than the alternative: facing reality.

After a few minutes, the room stopped spinning and her senses returned to a steady enough state that she could at least recognize where she was. She decided, to keep her mind off things, she may as well sweep up the shattered glass in her living room. Somehow she pulled herself to her feet and stumbled into the bathroom. She pulled open the cabinet door with such force that the hinges broke, not that she noticed. Whatever was left of her senses were completely focused on the task at hand; finding the broom.

5 minutes later, after a sufficient struggle with the various bottles that tumbled from their shelves and the vacuum cleaner hose that somehow tied itself around her ankle, Quistis finally was able to drag a mop toward the living area. She immediately began sweeping, oblivious to the fact that her efforts were doing nothing more than spreading the sharp fragments over a larger surface area.

She chased the glass for a while, humming to herself the SeeD anthem and pretending that the clinking noise the scraping fragments made was some kind of modern background music. She laughed, even though nothing concerning her present situation was the least bit amusing. Still, the giggles couldn't help but force themselves from her mouth. Soon she was laughing so hard that she shaking knees could no longer support her weight and she clasped onto the floor, ignoring, temporarily, the searing pain that resulted as significantly large shards embedded themselves into her exposed legs and her palms.

It wasn't long though, before she began to notice the warm, liquid sensation of hot liquid trickling down her skin and start to form puddles about her.

"Oh no.." she exclaimed halfheartedly, somehow not surprised by the sight of her own blood oozing out of her from several small yet significant wounds. She crawled forward, her hands groping for anything solid to help lift her to her feet. But the movement only pushed the glass further in, and soon the pain was all she could think about.

She had to get up.

Fast.

It hurt. It really hurt.

She moved faster, tears further blurring her vision, reaching out for a helpful hand, and chair ANYTHING to save her. Though the cuts were only minor, Quistis rationality had long since dissolved and for a moment, she was certain that this was the end of her meaningless existence.

She was going to bleed to death on her living room floor.

And the reflex image that her mind produced when thinking, genuinely, that the end was near, was that of Squall.

She wanted to talk to him one last time. She wanted to apologize for her outrageous behavior and to wish him and Rinoa well. There was still so much to do . . .so much to say . . .so much to

Her thoughts were abruptly halted as her pawning hand fell upon something other than hard wood or glass. It was something thin, and smooth. The size of a keycard she concluded after examining it briefly.

Keycard. . .

But she had forgotten hers in her purse at the ball coat check. Who's was this?

She brought it up to her face, her panic quickly dissipating into some newfound curiosity.

'SEIFER ALMASY' it read.

Seifer almasy?

Right. . .he had been here. They had had a fight. He left in a hurry. And in the struggle, had dropped his keycard.

His ALL-ACCESS keycard.

Of course, for security reasons, the programming would only allow it to open doors until 6 am. That was enough time wasn't it? She could go to Squall's room with this card since, even on the elite floor, male and female dorms were separated by a door that remained locked during night hours. She could get into his office with it, leave a note or wait for him since no one but the headmaster and the commander used the third floor. They'd definitely be alone then.

He wouldn't want to speak to her after tonight. But this was her last chance to get him alone. To say that she was sorry. To resolve their issues once and for all and be friends again. Yes. It was perfect.

Grasping the card tightly in her hand she pulled herself, with much difficulty, into a standing position. She glanced at her watch.

5:30 it read. Only 15 minutes till sunrise and the card became un-usable. She had to hurry.

She will begin with checking his dorm.

~*~

When Rinoa's mind began to lazily draw away from slumber and back into the land of the living, she decided not to dare open her eyes for fear that last night was nothing more than a wonderful dream. An awesome, sensational and unreal dream.

She stretched her arms above her head with a loud, satisfied yawn, hoping to capture the attention of the man sleeping next to her so that she wouldn't have to be the one to disturb this perfect moment. But he, being a little unacquainted no doubt to the morning rituals of new lovers, remained still. She rolled on her side, her eyes still shut and reached her arm over to the other side of the bed, expecting it to fall on a naked, warm back. Needless to say, when nothing but the cotton sheets presented themselves beneath her palm, her eyes darted open in surprise.

The bed was empty. Cold and empty. Meaning it hadn't felt the presence of other human in at least an hour.

Rinoa sat up, gripping the sheets tightly around her naked form while desperately scanning the room.

"Squall?" she called quietly, not certain of the wall thickness between this dorm and the next. Her voice would surely arouse suspicion on the male side of the elite floor. "Squall?" she dared to call a little louder, hoping that maybe he simply went to the bathroom. But the dorm was still. Uncomfortably still.

*He left* she decided upon further inspection, noticing that his clothes had indeed disappeared from the floor where hers remained scattered.

This wasn't exactly how she had imagined the morning after they made love. Where was the kiss on her shoulder to coax her gradually to wake? The cute conversation? The repeated expressions of love? The breakfast in bed? The awkward yet fulfilling admittance as to how much they enjoyed one another?

Then again, this was Squall. She supposed she should be satisfied with him at least finding the time to do this at all. He probably had some emergency meeting. Maybe he just didn't want to wake her. Maybe he was embarrassed. All these explanations she found to be equally inexcusable. But, for whatever reason, he had disappeared and she had to deal with it.

With a sigh, Rinoa swung her legs off the bed and tightened the sheets around herself in a makeshift robe that she carried with her. She winced as her feet hit the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, but got over it quickly enough as she switched on the lights and glared, distressfully, at the horrible image which was her reflection.

She was a complete mess. Her hair was half up in messed up curls and half down in sweaty strands, stuck here and there with rebellious bobby pins that tangled themselves up. Her dark eye makeup had smudged terribly around her eyes giving the plausible illusion that she got punched in the face a few too many times. Her long-lasting lipstick had also proved to be a bad decision, for the practically permanent color, instead of easily wiping off, had spread, staining the skin around her mouth a bright red appearing like some sort of rash. She resembled like an 18th century, Centrian whore. Thank Hyne Squall hadn't been there to see her like this in the light.

Turning on the faucet, she let the hot water run while she desperately searched Squall's bathroom cabinet for some kind of skin-friendly cleanser strong enough to remove all this gunk from her face. In the end though, she gave up and ended up using plain soap and a grisly cloth, scrubbing her face until her skin felt raw and rubbery. With a sigh, Rinoa turned to water to cold and idly splashed some on her skin in an attempt to stop the burning. Only then was she satisfied.

She raked through her hair with her finger, removing all unruly pins, and dared to look in the mirror once more, hoping that this time she'd like what she saw. Alas, her conscious wasn't so kind. Standing there, wrapped in nothing more than a sheet, the exposed skin of her shoulders and collarbones still sticky from sweat and her face red and dripping, Rinoa couldn't help but feel. . .cheap.

She felt worse than cheap actually. She felt used, like in all those heartbreaking movies when the naïve heroine falls in love with a mischievous soldier who only indulges her romantic fantasies to satisfy his own, selfish desires. Of course she knew, with absolute certainty, that Squall was nothing like that, and yet still some disobedient part of her subconscious prompted her to think otherwise.

"I need to get out of here," she told herself, knowing very well that the reason for all these irrational thoughts was due to her unease of being alone in his apartment.

She turned the shower on and stepped in once it was warm enough. The rush of water brought with it a sense of calm and relaxation. She closed her eyes and let the pounding of the droplets on the ceramics tiles fill her ears. But time did not elude her. If Squall did come back, she didn't want to be here when he did. She was still confused after all. A little time off to think about all of this was exactly what she needed. Where would they go from here? What's to happen now? What did he talk about in that conversation with Cid last night? And what about medical school in Timber?

There were many things to consider. . .decisions still to be made.

With a sudden urgency, Rinoa quickly shut off the water, toweled herself dry, wasting no time in scurrying into the bedroom, gathering her garments and hastily putting them on. She had to hurry after all. It was almost sunrise and by then Garden would be in full swing and her one chance of getting back to her own dorm unnoticed would expire. She was so intent on tying up the many straps of her sandals that she didn't notice the door opening, or the lone, shadowy figure step inside.

"Rinoa. . ." only at the sound of the voice, a mere inches to her left, did the additional presence register. She gasped, fundamentally startled. Her hand flew to her chest in alarm, clutching her heart to stop it from beating so rapidly from the abrupt shock. She stared into the intruder's eyes for a minute or so, both to catch her breath and too figure out a way to handle the awkward situation she found herself in. . .if only she had rushed a little bit faster this whole scene could have been avoided for a few more hours!

"Squall," she found herself replying in a formal and cold tone, un- intentionally of course. But so soon after waking up alone, the initial contempt was still painfully clear in her mind. She finished tying her sandals and stood up, staring deep into those azure eyes of his that were void of all emotion. He was in 'closed' mode again. His interior wall was built up full force, barbwire and all. That meant he had something to hide.

"Where did you go?" she asked, trying to make it sound like an innocent inquiry and not harsh interrogation. He remained silent for a few seconds, his eyes darting around the room, steadying on the digital, bedside clock. She followed his gaze.

5:34 it read.

"An emergency meeting was called." He replied at last, as though trying to divert her attention from the time. "I had to go. Sorry." Rinoa raised an eyebrow questioningly. His answer was too prolonged, too concise and his tone almost sarcastic. One things for sure, Commander Leonhart was a horrible liar.

However, Rinoa didn't want to be bothered with a fight now. Especially since it would inevitably lead to yelling, which would then lead to their being reprimanded for spending the night together. Not wanting their sex life to be common knowledge, Rinoa decided it was best the two of them just give each other some space until their REAL priorities became clear.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She bent down to pick up her purse and headed for the door briskly, trying to be as obvious as possible that she was less than pleased with the end results of what was supposed to be a meaningful step in their relationship.

"Wait!" he exclaimed loudly, stepping in front of the door and grabbing her arm in desperate, painful manner. She winced and immediately twisted herself free, both alarmed and angry at his violent actions.

"Don't you dare touch me like that again!" her voice dropped to a dangerous pitch and her hands clenched at her sides, but Squall seemed unnerved.

"You can't go. . .not yet."

"Why not?"

She could see him thinking, the wheels were turning fervently inside his head, she knew. It was strange but somehow, though his expression was calm and stern, she could feel his internal panic. He remained silent too long, and it became obvious to Rinoa the real reason why she shouldn't be allowed to set foot outside his dorm. Into the illegal 4th elite floor, under constant surveillance. Why it would be scandalous!

"Figures. Nothing's changed, admit it!"

Squall's expression remained as blank as ever. "Admit what?"

"That you're ashamed of me!"

"What!?" his eyes squinted and he cocked his head to the side: the traditional expression of confusion.

"You don't want me to step out of this room. You'll get caught and whatever nice agreement you made with Cid will blow up in your face!"

He sighed and shook his head in annoyance, only fueling her anger. "I don't care about Cid!" he insisted, daring to take a step closer and place a gentle hand on her forearm, hoping it would be enough to calm her down. "If it mattered that much then why would I have publicly exposed our relationship at the ceremony last night?"

"Oh I don't know," she roughly shook him off "to get laid perhaps?!"

"Oh my Hyne, you're being unreasonable you know that?" Unintentionally, his voice raised in pitch, his patience wearing unbearably thin with these ridiculous accusations "and insane may I add."

"Fine!" He watched her scurry about the room, gathering the few remaining accessories of hers off the floor and jamming them violently into her purse, her wet hair dripping and darkening the fabric of her red dress, giving the impression that a she had been in a downpour of blood. When convinced that all of her belongings were accounted for, she returned to Squall, glaring angrily into his eyes. "Prove to me you don't care. Let me walk out and be as loud as I want, let me do whatever I want and tell whoever I want." She headed for the door, with the confidence that he wouldn't dare stop her if he cared at all.

She gripped the handle, relieved that so far no move had been made to stop her. That is until she tried to open it. She turned one way and pulled. Then the other. She tugged with all her might but it wouldn't budge. It was electronically sealed. Only those with the card could enter or leave.

"I KNEW IT!!" she screamed, kicking the door furiously, trying to make as much noise as possible. "I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Squall was calmly sitting on the bed when she turned around, staring at his hands, as though nothing strange was happening at all. Rinoa walked past him and tore open his top desk drawer, then the next one, and then the next. He had to have a spare key somewhere. "I should have left when I had the chance." She found a compartment full of papers and emptied in onto the floor, pawning through it for something rectangular and plastic.

"There's only one key." Squall insisted calmly. He now stood right behind her, pulling her gently to her feet, trying to hold her still as she struggled to be released from his steel grip. "This isn't what it seems I swear. It's complicated. . ."

"My ass!" she tore herself free soon enough by elbowing him forcefully in the stomach, he being the one who trained her in self defense, it was easy enough to escape the teacher. As he doubled back, clutching his abdomen, she tried the door again. Still locked. With a frustrated sigh, she turned to him, her face fuming. "You are the most selfish, paranoid. . ."

"Rinoa. . ."

"ASSHOLE, who spend his entire life literally kissing ass!"

He chanced a glance at the clock. 5:38. He had to hurry.

"If you'd just listen!" They were face-to-face, inches apart. He never imagined that she would be this difficult. And in the heat of the moment, he too couldn't help but start to feel the familiar heat of rage swell within, or maybe that was just because he was still trying to catch his breath from her previous blow. "It's more complex then you think. There's only a few minutes. . ."

Out of the corner of his eye her saw her arm rise, but his reflexes were slowed in the passion of the argument. He felt the searing pain of her palm across his face before his mind even registered the danger of it.

She hit hard. He had taught her well. He touched his lip and watched, in astonishment, the dripping red liquid that now coated his fingers.

Rinoa was more than furious. This man, who only a few hours ago had swore that she was the only thing that mattered in his life, was now holding her captive to shelter his precious reputation. Was she really worth so little? Never had anyone made her feel so cheap all her life. Even her father, who she despised for being a tyrant, at least he only acted in her best interests. But Squall. . .his betrayal was too much for her already weakened heart to handle.

"I can't believe I ever let you touch me. You're disgusting." The words sounded spiteful in his ears. Cruel and wicked. He wanted to shudder at her newly acquired, venomous tone but found himself rooted to spot. "You may be considered the best in this hell hole you call home, but to anyone that matters, you are nothing."

She was simply angry. He knew that. He was holding her prisoner; she had ever right to assault him. But why was it hurting so much? Why was it scaring him?

Despite his previous plan of reasoning, Squall found his free hand wandering into his pocket, if only by defensive impulse.

"You're a leech Squall Leonhart. Living off other people's blood that you spill."

He closed his eyes, licking the drizzling plasma off his split lip, the salty taste of it distracting him temporarily from the poison the woman he loved was now reciting. Maybe she wasn't so pure and perfect after all.

"No wonder your family abandoned you. They had sense. They. . " She didn't get a chance to finish, only to stager back in surprise as Squall lunged at her, pinning her against the door.

Her eyes involuntarily widened in fear. She had gone too far. She knew it before the words were out of her mouth. She had simply been coasting on the belief that the obnoxiously honorable Squall Leonhart would never hurt a fly without authentic provocation and permission. But then again, she had also believed that he loved her more than anything. Maybe she didn't know him at all.

She was so tense and apprehensive as to what his next move would be that she didn't even notice him embedding something painful deep into her upper arm. Only when her bicep began to burn unbearably did she recognize that something was, indeed, wrong. She gasped in agony as he stepped back, his face a mask of anger and disbelief.

Rinoa tore whatever it was out of her shoulder and stared at it.

A needle?

What the. . .

She began to feel weak. The horrible burning sensation had spread throughout her entire left arm, leaving it numb and useless. It was moving still. Across her shoulders and down into her right arm. She could feel it slither into her chest and constrict around her heart, squeezing intolerably. With a small gasp and loud swallow, she let the syringe fall from her now useless hand and shatter on the floor. The noise it made sounded far off and echo-like.

She fell to her knees. It was becoming difficult to breathe.

The room spun and everything was gradually becoming a hazy blur of impossible colors.

"Squall. . ." she managed to choke out between rasping attempts for air. She groped along the floor, found his leg and grasped onto it, looking up into the general direction of his face. "What. . .?"

He pulled away from her and stepped back. His face, she saw, is as hard as stone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in a dead voice, just before she falls unconscious, the pain becoming too much to take.

It is done then.

His decision was made. It was too late now for a change in heart.

~*~

He stared at her for a while. Oblivious to everything around him except for her rigid body sprawled on the floor. Her face frozen in a saddened expression of his betrayal, even after the death-like drug had taken effect, a single tear somehow founds its way from her left eye and traveled, halfheartedly, down her face. How long had he stood like this? One minute? Five? Ten? Time held no meaning anymore.

Squall buried his face in his hands and sighed. At least the hard part was over.

"What have you done?"

He lifted his head and averted his eyes to the doorway where a golden figure stood trembling, a key card in one hand, the other gripping the doorknob so tightly her knuckles were white.

Quistis.

How did she get in here? He locked the door he was sure of it.

"What have you done!?" she repeated, striding, a little awkwardly into the room and kneeling beside Rinoa's fallen body, searching desperately for any sign of life. Before he can even begin to search for the words to explain, she quickly comes to the obvious conclusion.

"You killed her!" she screamed, jumping up in horror and charging toward Squall. He raised his arms in defense, not wanting to feel the wrath of a second enraged woman the same night, but there is no need for concern. For halfway there, it seemed Quistis passed out conveniently on his mattress.

Squall sighed.

Daring to assume that he is safe for the moment, he looked over the disaster scene that was his dorm. A half-dead sorceress on his floor, his bleeding, drunk ex-instructor on his bed, and he, the most deranged of them all, sits down in a corner resting his head on his knees, praying to Hyne that this is all a bad dream.

As if the curtains have suddenly become transparent, red light flooded the room, exposing every crevice of the horrid exhibition before him.

Dawn.

Never had it looked so ugly.

~*~

Author's Notes: So yeah. FINALLY got this chapter out. I actually wrote the first part with Zell more than two months ago, but since I update only every 3 weeks or so, I always insist on posting LONG chapters only. It's a small solace for those few who wait for my new chapters. At least it keeps them a while. So what do you think will happen next? I don't know whether it was a shock or obvious that Squall eventually got it in him to inject Rinoa. Though it seems a little random, he has his reasons. This story is turning out to be WAY longer than I originally intended. I think I'm actually gonna post it in two books. If I do decided on that then this 'Book One', the promise, will be finished within two chapters. Tell me what you think, and don't forget to REVIEW!

Vick330: Thanks for last chapter's constructive criticism. I have other plans for Laguna though so don't start to feel all disappointed that he's an idiot. He kinda has to be an external idiot since that's just his character. But he develops a much more important role later on other than comic relief. Keep it coming though! I never refuse sorely needed help.

Vanessa143: Ah. You're review was fun. Not that you remember it. I live in Canada by the way. Montreal, Quebec. And yes, it is 'kool' as your sister says. Thus why a trip to Toronto is not really considered a big adventure since it's only an hour away by plane. I consider myself pretty patriotic despite the fact that I hate hockey (damn ice!). Anyway, thanks for reviewing!

Josh: Here's some Rinoa just for you! Seriously, I wasn't going to add the whole Rinoa part just yet but I figured I'd give my few, regular reviewers some happiness and maybe this fic will have some point. And I don't think this is really gonna turn into a Quiefer. That would make it all a little too complicated. Seifer's just there for comic relief later on I suppose. And as for Squall smoking? He just needed some kind of mild (for now) bad habit that'll grow on him later on when. . .I'm not saying anything. Thanks for reviewing!

Everybody: You rock simply for being on fanfiction.net

QUESTION???: I notice that sometimes I receive e-mails telling me that some of my favorite author's have updated. Since I update so rarely do you think I should make an update alert mailing list? If so and you want to be on it just say so in reviews.