BROKEN WINGS
A FFVIII Fan Fiction
Chapter 2
We Are Family
I awake in the darkness, my body covered in sweat, trembling and fevered. I'm having the dreams again. For a month now, I've had the same horrible nightmares, the kind where I re-live my past sins. Each time, I awake near dawn, covered in sweat, full of a need I can not define if I tried, and shaking from the horror of what I perpetrated against my former comrades. Each time, I see the things I've done, the things I did when I was nearly brainwashed with power. It sickens me to think about it.

Lately, I've taken to whiskey to deaden the guilt. It doesn't work too well, but it helps to dull the images. Plus, it maintains my image of being a hard ass, all go, no quit mother fucker. It's not easy being Seifer Almasy. Everywhere I go, people know me, and they either claim to worship me, which in itself sickens me, or, they hate my guts and wish me dead. And that's fine with me. Never was much on fair-weather friends.

I shake off the cobwebs of my night horrors and pull on a pair of boxers. If I lived alone, I'd walk around naked, but I have house mates, namely Raijin and Fujin, and the latter would beat me to a pulp for exposing myself to her. I made this mistake once, and Fujin hit me so hard with her Sai attack, I was brought to my knees, both injured and naked before her. Pretty embarrassing, even for a bad ass like me.

I brush my teeth and wash my face, to bring me back to my senses. The cold water is startling, but necessary.

Back in my bedroom, I stare up at Hyperion, which hangs on the wall now. It's been a while since I took it out for a little exercise. Hell, it's been a while since I've exercised period. My life consists of drinking, partying, women and touring with my band, the Disciplinary Committee. Who's got time to be a hero? I've been down that road before, and it ain't all it's cracked up to be.

"DREAMS?" Fujin asks from the hallway apparently awakened by the water as it ran through the pipes. She has ultra keen hearing, and is easily roused by the slightest sound. It can be quite annoying at times, since I sometimes value being alone, especially following one of these disturbing nightmares.

"How"d you know about that?" I ask wearily.

She nods her head. "I KNOW." I can hardly look at her. She's dressed in a filmy night gown that would look sexy on any other woman, but on her, it just seems . . . bizarre. In all the years I've known her, I've never looked at her as a woman. She's always been a buddy to me, and I never considered that there was a feminine side to her. But lately, things have changed, and it's been more than obvious that she is indeed, a woman. I'm always left disturbed after a Fujin in her nightgown sighting. It just seems . . . wrong.

Fujin and Raijin got married last spring. Let me tell you, it was a helluva wedding. Sure, they had matching rings and vows and all that nonsense, but when they got to the kiss the bride part, instead of locking lips, they whaled on each other for the better part of an hour. Talk about your doomed relationships. I left feeling kind of sick.

Now, I'm a third wheel. I'm a trash talking fool. I've got no one, really. And I like it that way.

Or maybe, I don't.

We have this great house in Dollet. It's on the harbor and has a nice view of the ocean. It's three stories, with an expansive granite tiled balcony off the main room on the second floor. The granite is dark gray, infused with large mica fragments that glisten under the moonlight and have the potential to blind you in full sun. I usually end up there after a night of bad dreams, even when the weather isn't ideal for sitting outside and reflecting on one's past sins. There have been nights where I sat through torrential rains and even snow. Doesn't bother me much.

"It's no big deal," I say to her, heading to the kitchen for the bottle of whiskey in the freezer. "They were just dreams. It's not like they were real."

She follows and I can hear her soft foot steps on the floor behind me. Doesn't she see I want to be alone?

"NIGHTMARES."

"Yeah, they were nightmares. So what? Everybody has them." I reply, irritated. I debate whether to pour myself a glass or to take the whole bottle. If Fujin's awake, I'd better take the whole bottle. She can get on my nerves. She doesn't talk much, but just her presence can drive me up the wall sometimes, especially when she's in the mood to make me talk.

Out on the balcony, I look out over the sea and take a seat in one of the softly padded chairs, and begin to think about my life. I used to be so hard core. Now, I'm just a joke. Xu was right about that. My life is a joke.

I've spent every waking hour of my existence seeking fame and notoriety. I certainly got it, didn't I? First as a murderer who went free because some bleeding heart liberals came to his defense, and now as a member of "The Disciplinary Committee," the multi-platinum rappers who denounce SeeD and just about everyone else on the planet. I really know how to make a name for myself. I laugh bitterly, my breath a cloud in the chilly air.

And now that I have what I want, I'm at a loss. Everyone knows my name, my face. But what have I got? An attitude the size of Esthar, lots of money in the bank, but I don't have what I truly want.

I want my innocence back. I want to be that cocky, proud boy who had dreams of greatness. I want to be back at Garden, where things were easier. I never once questioned who I was or where I was going back then. These days, I'm full of doubt, and my internal compass has been broken for a while. I don't know where I'm going anymore.

Fujin sits down beside me, not seeming to feel the chill in the air. "DREAMS," she demands.

"Yeah, so?"

"BAD."

I sigh and take a sip of my poison. It burns going down, but it warms my chest and that's all right by me. It's damn cold out here. "Yeah, they were bad. Big deal. I'll get over it."

Fujin stares hard at me, searching my face with that cold gray eye. Despite her handicap, her stare can be rather intimidating. Hell, she's intimidating me right now. I's as if she's burning into my brain with a laser, searching for the information she needs. I shudder."TALK."

"Fujin, its no frickin big deal." I'm not going to get out of this one without talking, but I really don't feel like spilling my guts to her. She might see me as weak. Then she'd want to kick my ass, which might be interesting, since I can still whop her seven ways from Wednesday with one hand tied behind my back.

"NOW," she demands and crosses her arms.

I know a threat when I hear one. I allow myself to be cowed by her because it's easier than duking it out here on this grand patio for the world to see. I take another long swallow of the whiskey and wait for it to go down before I begin.

I tell her every detail of the dream. I tell her how I am unable to stop myself from throwing Rinoa at Adel.s feet, and the look of disbelief on Rinoa's face as I tower over her, my gunblade gleaming behind me. The dream is different from reality though. Moments after I commit this atrocity, Rinoa has changed into powerful sorceress herself, brandishing a pair of glorious black wings which glow and throb in different colors. They throw light against the walls, as if the surface of the feathers themselves were mirror like. She isn't the sweet, naive girl I knew a thousand lifetimes ago. She is something else, something beautifully monstrous, something innocently dangerous, and she has Adel junctioned unto her rather than the other way around. I strike at her over and over and her blood drips from my gunblade and dots the arm of my coat but she seems uninjured. Then, I realize it's my own blood. As I look up at her, and she merely laughs a silly girlish giggle. "Poor boy," she whispers to me. "Ultimecia did not fulfill your dreams, but I will." Then, I awaken.

I shiver and swallow another mouthful of brown poison.

Sometimes Fujin, for all her hardness on the outside, can be surprisingly insightful. I often forget she is the devil's advocate, pointing out the flaws and loopholes in any plan. Not that I often listen to her, but she's always been practical, if not understanding. She is my rock. So, she does not surprise me when she says, "GUILTY," and nods to herself.

"I"m not feeling guilty. I've made my peace with them. Well, except for the chicken-wuss. He'd still like a piece of me, and me of him."

Wouldn't I? He and still have some serious beef. And she's right. I do feel guilty.

"LIE."

"What do you mean by that? They have forgiven me."

"RINOA."

"She's forgiven me, too. She even calls me from time to time, Fuj." Rinoa and I have had occasional friendly conversations in the past couple of years. Nothing special, mind you, but she gave me no indication that she held me responsible for anything.

"LOVE."

This single word makes me stop and think.

********************

I lay on the bed in my quarters, dry eyed and questioning everything about my life. How did everything get so screwed up? How could I break Squall's heart so cruelly? And what's left at Garden for me now that it's over? I'm not a SeeD. Do I belong here? Sure, Cid made me Goodwill Ambassador and Chief Negotiator, but really, what reason do I have to stay? I like my job, but I don't love it. There are other things I could be doing with my life.

Well, I do still have friends here at Garden, but they're his friends too, though he sees little of them these days. Will they take sides? Will they turn against me, now that I've broken Squall's heart? I don't know.

In the darkness of the room, I sense an almost imperceptible change in myself. I don't know what it is, or what it might mean, but it's there. This tiny, nagging feeling of duality that I can't quite pinpoint. Is like, my mind is divided. Part of me wants to run back to Squall, to throw myself into his arms, and the other part wants to run as far from him as I can.

I sigh and absently stroke Angelo's head. He makes a sound that's half sigh and half a moan of pleasure and then returns to his dreams of chasing rabbits.

Dogs are better than people. I've always believed this. They never lie to you, they don't talk behind your back, and they are always there to comfort you when you're down. Even better, they have the ability to calm you with their soft eyes, and always welcome you home when you've been away for a while, even if it's just been a few minutes since you've seen them last. I wonder if I went away for a while, would Squall come running to greet me with the same innocent joy in his eyes? Would he even notice that I'd been gone?

I've already cried out every tear I had within me. I feel like I should hug my pillow and sob until my voice is hoarse, my stomach aches and my eyes are dry. That's what I want to do, but the tears won't come anymore. I've gone numb. I don't really feel anything, except a dull ache for what once was, which in hindsight, wasn't really all that much. I'm so confused. I love him, but I don't want to anymore. All I want is to have back those precious days when we shared our thoughts and feelings, made plans for the future and felt comfortable enough with one another. I want the laughter back in our lives.

What if I go upstairs and apologize? What if I take everything I said back and forgive him? Well, then, I'd be stuck in the same place I was before, wouldn't I?

Finally, after hours of thinking and debating with myself, I fall asleep.

I have dreams of feathers and wings. They're opaque, magnificent wings inky and sunny at the same time. They pulse with a radiant light show of color, almost as if they have a heart beat of their own. I want them so badly, yet, they're just out of my reach. I also dream of sex and death and sorrow and pain, mostly mine, all in graphic detail that is both sickening and fascinating. This second, darker part of the dream overshadows the glory of the beautiful wings, yet, there's some kind of connection between the darkness and the inky black feathers that I fail to make. It's just a feeling, really, that those lovely wings represent an evil of some kind, though what I don't know.

When I awake, it's morning, and the sunshine pours in from my narrow window, spilling across the rumpled bed. The light is so intense, it stings my weary eyes. On any other day, the sun would have pleased me, but today I'd prefer a thunderstorm, high winds and torrential rains. That would better suit my mood today. I don't feel like getting out of bed, but I'm to go to Dollet later today, and barring sudden illness I'll have to go whether I want to or not.

I dress and brush out my hair, making a half hearted attempt to look as if I had a good night sleep. Though the end result appears polished and tidy, I still feel rumpled and weary.

That's funny. Has my hair grown this much since my last trim? It seems I've acquired a good two inches in the last month or so. Geez. What do they put in those hot dogs?

A glance at the clock tells me it's time to go to my office, where my bitchy receptionist will certainly tell me how much work I have to do today, how tired I look and how I need to cut down on my coffee intake. I'm always nice to her, so I don't understand why she has to criticize everything I do? Oh, well. Since I'm going to Dollet for a weekend conference, I'm allowed to take a half day, unless there's some crisis. But then, there's always a crisis.

Please, don't let there be a major situation. I just want to get this over with so I can mope around some more before I have to get on the train.

My office is different than Squall's. His is decorated with heavy furniture, and it always seems dark in there despite the big skylight above. Mine has a big picture window that fills the room with light, even on the cloudiest of days. Unfortunately, the view isn't spectacular. Instead of a picturesque scene, I'm treated to a view of the rounded hull of the Garden. It's a comfortable place to be, but I don't spend much time there. Maybe that's the difference between mine and Squall's. He lives in his, I barely stay in mine. I'm too busy with meetings and business trips to spend much time there, and I'm thankful for that.

In fact, this morning, I should only be in mine long enough to call President Carraway and take care of some small, unfinished business before my trip. Then I should be free to mope a little before I have to pack.

"Good morning Miss Heartilly," Anaya, my receptionist says as she busies herself with some task that's probably not important. Anaya has an annoying tendency to seem terribly overbooked, even though there isn't much for her to do other than take phone calls and file papers. "Headmaster Cid left this for you. He wants it by noon and don't forget you have to speak with the Shumi Elder about those captive Moombas in Galbadia. Oh, and Squall wants to see you in his office. He sounded pretty angry."

So much for finishing up by noon.

"Goodness, you could have at least combed your hair before coming in," Anaya remarks. She's younger than me, a work study, but she's got the personality of a grouchy old woman, I swear. It's as if she was born old. She's like a younger, crankier version of Quistis, minus Quistis' good intentions.

"I did, Anaya," I reply testily as I eye her mop of curly red tangles. It's on the tip of my tongue to make a snide reply, but I keep it in.

I put on a pot of coffee, wincing when Anaya comments, "You should cut down on that stuff. I heard it gives you cancer."

"Everything gives you cancer these days, Anaya," I reply cheerily, trying my best not to let her see how bad I really feel. "Life will eventually kill me, so I'll take my chances with the coffee."

Finally inside my office, I sit back in my chair and contemplate what to do first. There's much to do, much more than I anticipated, but that's the way it always is.

Cid had thought it a good idea to employ the current Sorceress, which is, of course, me, as a goodwill ambassador for the Garden. In my opinion, this wasn't such a great idea. I mean, wasn't that what Vinzer Deling called Edea at the time? But he convinced me that my personality would put people at ease, despite the fact that I'd inherited the fearful powers of two sorceresses. Still, I am met with fear, and sometimes loathing, despite whatever personality I have.

I decide to call Carraway first. He's my father, but that doesn't mean much to me anymore. I tried to mend fences two years ago, but he still couldn't come to terms with the fact that my opinions were different than his. He can't understand what he doesn't believe in. He won't hear a different point of view, and he won't accept me until I agree with him.

Reluctantly, I pick up the phone and dial his private line. This is the phone that rings in his bedroom. I'm the only one who knows it, other than a handful of his most trusted staff and confidants. He'll probably change it after hearing what I have to say.

A year ago, Carraway was elected President of Galbadia. During his campaign, he'd made promises to give Timber and Dollet back their lands and their rights as independent nations. He'd promised the Shumi tribe to free the captive Moombas. He'd made lots of promises. So far, he'd lived up to none of them, and now, Timber, Dollet and the Shumi's were requesting the aid of SeeD in forcing Carraway to make good on his word. And it was my job to talk him into it so that we could avoid going to war with Galbadia.

"Good morning, President Carraway. This is Rinoa Heartilly speaking." I say.

"Do you have any idea what time it is, Rinoa?"

"Yes, sir, I do." I reply, tapping my pencil against the desk. I was well aware of the time difference between Balm and Gabadia, and I didn't care that I'd woken him up. I'd already tried to do things on his schedule, and now it was my turn to call the shots.

"What is so important that you have to wake me up at 4:45 in the morning?"

"You know very well why I'm calling you. You were supposed to return my calls three days ago, and my clients are getting tired of waiting."

"Still can't call me father, eh?" he asked, laughing to himself.

"No, I can't," I reply. My father and I were once close. Back when I was a kid, he'd been a kind, loving man. By the time I was ten, he'd changed and he didn't have time for a little girl who adored him. He left me in the care of a Trabian nanny, and expected that to be enough.

But the past was the past.

I pour myself a second cup of coffee and leaf through the paperwork on my desk.

"Too bad. It might make our, heh, negotiations a little easier."

"I am not about to use our unfortunate biological link to manipulate you into doing my will, nor will I stroke your overblown ego," I say. This is so typical of him. I can't believe he'd stoop this low, but, then again, he is a corrupt man working for a corrupt government.

"You called to insult me?"

"You know why I'm calling." I'm a little exasperated now. His evasiveness is really getting to me. He thinks these little games he plays with me are cute, and maybe he even thinks I'm foolish enough to forget my purpose for calling, which is insulting in itself.

"I'm working on it."

"Really?" I reply. "Funny, because you've had a while to work on it, and nothing's been done."

"There are other issues here, you know."

"Issues that are more important than giving back lands Galbadia stole? More important than returning the moombas that have been enslaved there?" I pause to give him a chance to speak. When he doesn't, I continue, my voice full of fire and venomous wrath. "So, what should I tell our clients in Dollet, and Timber, and Shumi Village? Should I tell them you're too busy to make reparations because you're building a new street in Deling?"

He sighed, making a static crackling noise over the line. "We have problems, too you know. Crime, budget constraints. I'm sure they have the same issues and will understand our position."

"The trouble is, Mr. President, these people have been hearing this little speech of yours for months. They're tired of waiting, and I can't guarantee they won't take it back using means of force." I know this will scare him, but I know it won't have any bearing on the final outcome. My father is a very stubborn man, and he's known for not backing down, no matter how pointless or stupid the situation might be. As much as I hate to admit this, he's a lot like me. Except that I have a conscience.

"Rinoa, you can be so difficult."

"Children tend to become difficult when they're neglected." Why is it that every time I speak with him, our past rears it's foul head?

"I gave you the best that I had." There's a little bit of sadness in his voice, but not enough to win me over.

"Except your time," I reply curtly. Enough of this daddy crap. It's time to get to the heart of the matter. "Look. What we want is for you to live up to your promises, or we'll have to take extreme measures."

"Are you threatening me Rinoa?" he said softly. "What would you do if I decline?"

"Don't play stupid with me. You know exactly what will be done if you fail to live up to your promises. It's your choice as to how this plays out."

The line cut off abruptly and I am rewarded with a startling silence. I knew he'd hang up on me. So, now I have to report this to the Headmaster and Squall.

What fun that will be.



********************
Journal Entry, March 30, 9:00 am

I have studied the Lunatic Pandora for more than twenty years, yet I still fail to understand it. There are so many things about it that perplex me, such as, who made it? Where did it come from? And matter of composite are these walls made of? We have spent two years now, trying in vain to get inside, but just this morning, it opened. All by itself, the locks released, and we were able to go inside.

My assistant and I entered and immediately began to take samples of the walls. This was not an easy task, for not even the strongest drills are capable of cutting through the material. But, I was prepared. I had created two special hydraulic drills, each with a bit tipped in tiny diamond chips. If anything would cut through it, the diamonds would, for diamonds are the strongest substance on the planet.

Imagine my annoyance when the idiot broke the drill bit as he placed it against the wall. I gave him the second one, and warned him not to open it up, instead to use a low speed setting in order to prevent the motor from burning up.

It was amazing! As the bit began to spin, the wall began to glow. Rainbow spirals of light spun off from the tip of the bit and began to make strange patterns around us. And then, the walls themselves, all around us, began to pulse with the same kind of light. I was ecstatic.

I left the boy to his work and began to walk through the corridors, marveling at the patterns. Here and there, I saw images of things, some very clearly, and some only for a brief, fleeting moment. The hallway opened up into a massive space, and as I gazed around, I saw a form lying on the ground where the lights were most intense. Upon the wall behind the figure was the image of a pair of wings so glorious I was forced to pause and admire them. They were dark like raven wings and spanned across the wall, perhaps fifty or sixty feet wide. Inside the crystalline walls, small bolts of electricity flashed and pulsed within the image, as if the feathers themselves were charged. What was causing this?

I was not prepared for what I saw when I approached the figure, for I knew it would be Adel. I was certain we would find her remains badly decomposed and already turning to dust. However, her flesh was still intact, and there was even a pinkish coloring to her cheeks. So, Adel was alive.

Immediately, I became fearful for my life, for Adel would gladly see me dead for betraying her, but the temptation of study is what caused me to take her to my laboratory. I was certain, when I brought her here, that she had no powers, for that girl, Sorceress Rinoa, had inherited them when Adel had been defeated.

But now, I'm not so certain. However unlikely, it seems that Adel did retain some of her powers, and Hyne help us if she wakes.



***Notes***

I've rearranged the order of some of these sections a bit, so that it makes a little more sense, plus I've added this chapter, which is an attempt at re-writing a lost chapter from the original. For some reason, it was deleted from my hard copy, and I was never able to recapture the original spirit of it. But, I realized in reading over this story as I edit it, that it was important to the story so I added this new section so that later sections are easier to understand.

I'm going to try to post a couple of these a week, in hopes that I can have it back up within the next few weeks. I really want to finish posting "Oceans Apart," the sequel to this (don't go read it yet if you haven't read this one all the way through) before I get back to work on that one. What with the bazillion fics I've got going here, it may be longer than I hope....but it should be soon....

Read, review, CC, spam.......you know the drill.