I sit alone in a small observation room above the women's area of the training center, twelve hours away from Galbadia, watching Rinoa blow off a little steam. Her is hair pulled back into a pony tail and hangs down her back in sweaty tangles, perspiration marks her brow, and her cheeks are flushed with either exertion or anger, I can't tell which. She wears a navy blue tank bra with the garden logo emblazoned on the front, and a pair of short matching spandex. It's the standard gym uniform for female SeeDs and Cadets, and I've never really paid attention before, but it's pretty sexy. Especially on Rinoa.
She's been working out lately. I can see it in the trimness of her figure, her well-muscled arms and toned legs, her tight abdomen. Not to mention the skill and technique she's developed. I never even noticed that she'd been working out.
There's so much about her that I've overlooked in the last few months. Have I driven her to be so hardened on the inside, so determined? I missed out on all the changes that were taking place with her, mentally and physically. Am I so blind? How could I have let myself be so involved with work that I didn't see all this happening right in front of me?
This observation room is meant for instructors and staff only. Cadets and SeeD's never know when they're being watched, and I don't intend for her to know that I'm here. It's not like I'm stalking her. I'm worried about her. Her behavior has been so erratic lately, so strange and uncharacteristic of her that my concern runs deep for her well being and sanity. The sweet Rinoa I used to know has changed in some fundamental way, changing her very personality, and I worry that whatever she's going through might change her forever.
She's training with Selphie and Jilly Strife, the SeeD whom was stationed with Zell in Trabia. Already, Jilly has recovered. Her injuries were minor, but Zell, he's in a light coma, thanks to a mild but still serious concussion. Dr. Kadowaki says he should pull out of it soon. I'm thankful he wasn't seriously injured. Life without Zell might be kind of dull.
I watch silently as Selphie produces two blindfolds and ties one each around Jilly and Rinoa's eyes. Both girls take a fighter's stance. What the hell is Rinoa doing? She's fighting Jilly? Selphie I can see, but Jilly, well, she's one of our best, and she's particularly skilled in hand to hand, though she generally fights with Katal. She's given most of the guys at Garden a run for their money in this kind of forum. I get the feeling Rinoa's about to get her ass handed to her on a tray of hotdogs by one Jilly Strife.
Garden policy states that during hand to hand training, both parties are to wear protective garments on hands, head and feet, and neither of them are up to code. Their hands and feet are bare, their heads only covered by the blindfolds.
What I see before me looks much like a carefully choreographed dance segment. Rinoa throws a perfect punch, which Jilly swiftly avoids by ducking out of the way. This is followed by a spinning round kick from Jilly, dodged easily by Rinoa's stealthy sidestep. I watch with interest as the scene progresses, neither girl landing a solid hit on the other. Rinoa's better than I thought.
I am surprised when Jilly falls to the mat, victim of a well executed front snap kick by Rinoa. Jilly is clearly not amused. She lunges blindly for Rinoa, but Rinoa is one step ahead of her and easily flips Jilly over her hip, sending her back to the floor. I laugh, glad to see Jilly take a few hits. Jilly's good, but she's cocky, and perhaps she could benefit from a good beating.
It feels good to laugh. How long's it been? Months I think.
Before me, however, the scene goes from ugly to downright brutal. Jilly has Rinoa by the hair, using dirty tactics to take her opponent down. Rinoa however counters with a sharp jab of her elbow to Jill's pretty face, sending the girl reeling away from her.
Instead of ending the fight, Rinoa turns on her for more, going after Jilly with her fists this time, boxing style, unrelenting as she bloodies Jilly's nose and lips. She pounds Jilly's face repeatedly, dancing around her like a champion boxer as she dodges Jilly's meager attempts to strike out at her. I know I should go in there and stop them, but I'm riveted by Rinoa's newfound strength. Selphie sits at the edge of the mat, as entranced as I and doing absolutely nothing to stop this spectacle.
Jilly has regained her strength and sends a hard uppercut to Rinoa's left jaw. Rinoa is stunned, but only momentarily, then executes a stunning sweep with her bare right foot, sending Jilly to the mat once more.
This time Jilly doesn't get up. She's breathing hard and smiling up at Rinoa, who has placed her foot on Jilly's chest. Rinoa is smiling too. Almost reluctantly, Rinoa lets Jilly up from the floor, and both remove their blindfolds, grinning at one another. They shake hands and sit, legs crisscrossed, beside Selphie. They both laugh and chat as if the vicious fight had not just ensued. Selphie produces a packet of gauze and a bottle of what looks like antiseptic.
First of all, the skill level I have just seen from Rinoa is far beyond what I thought she was capable of. Two years ago, Rinoa's physical attacks had left something to be desired. She was a good shot, of course, but she simply sucked when it came down to using her fists.
Second, when did she find time to complete all this training? From what I've just seen, she could lay Zell out in a matter of minutes, even blindfolded. This is, well, a little unbelievable. It all seems so strange, so curious that she's come this far, and I don't understand her at all anymore.
Reluctantly, I leave my place in the observation room and enter the small door that opens into the training area. The three girls are laughing and giggling as Jill peppers her sentences with creative swears as she tends to her wounds.
"Squall!" Selphie exclaims, a look that is half delight, half worry on her elfin face. "You just missed the most incredible fight!"
"Um, actually, I saw that," I mutter. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I am curious as to when Rinoa developed this . . . power.
"You were spying on us?" Rinoa asks suddenly angry.
"Well," My cheeks flame. "Look, Rinoa, can I talk with you for a minute?"
She turns her face away from me as she did aboard the Ragnarok. It's as if she can't bear to look me in the eyes anymore. "Is it important?"
I shrug. "Kind of."
She nods and follows me out of the room and into the observation deck.
"What's this about?" she asks coolly.
I hesitate. There's something about her demeanor that I find dangerous. Maybe it's the beating she just gave Jilly, but I don't think it's that. She emanates this aura of impending violence, as if by being in the same room with her I am endangering myself. "Are you ok?" I ask cautiously.
"I'm fine," she replies, her eyes hard. Funny, I don't remember them being this color. They're kind of a calico mixture of brown and green and blue. Weren't they just plain brown before? This is strange. Either I'm seeing things or I'm loosing my mind.
With a shrug, I say, "You haven't seemed yourself lately, that's all. I'm just worried about you."
She cocks her head to the side, a little arrogantly. "Squall, I can take care of myself."
Where have I heard those words before? Hyne, she sounds just like me.
I rub my scar with my hand, and absent gesture which always gives me away.
"What?" she asks.
"Will you reconsider this mission? I know you can handle yourself, but we really need you here." I don't want her anywhere near this mission. Not only for her safety, but for her sanity as well. It's bad enough that we're going after her father, but it's even worse that she wants to witness the assassination.
"I am not going to sit behind some desk while you get to reaffirm your status as boy-hero. I'm more involved in this than you are, and last time I checked, you didn't give a damn about anyone but yourself." She fires at me. There's a strange light in her eyes, something opaque and pulsing. It's there for only a second, but I shakes me to the core.
I look down at my hands. "That's not true," I say. "I give a damn about you. I wouldn't be talking to you right now if I didn't. You know it."
"That's a load of . . . ." she says and then cuts off, looking guilty. "I'm sorry. I'm under a lot of stress right now, and I'd appreciate it if you'd just stop worrying yourself about it and leave me alone. I'm fine."
"I'll leave you alone under one condition," I say reluctantly. "Go see Dr. Kadowaki, even if it's just to talk out whatever it is you're going through."
She eyes me cautiously, and then approaches me. Her hands gently cup my face and a shiver races down my spine. Her hands are cold and here lips are just inches away from mine. "I'll go see the doctor if you do something for me."
"Anything . . ." I whisper. She's enchanted me with her voice and her eyes. I feel powerless against her, but I would do anything to keep her safe. Her touch is enough to drive me over the edge.
What she hisses in my ear raises gooseflesh along my arms and back. It's a terrible thing she's asked me to do.
She presses her body close to mine and her arms wrap around my neck. Her lips are at my throat and I find I'm unable to respond to her request. All I can do is react to her touch and to her mouth as it finds mine. She's as sweet as she was before, and for a moment I remember all the things that made me love her in the first place. All the things I missed about her while I worked on the latest Garden crisis. I remember all the nights I sat up working late, wishing to go to her.
How many nights had she lain awake in her bed longing for me?
Maybe it's not too late.
I can't think. I'm under some kind of spell.
It is then that I notice the tattoo-like lines on the left side of her face. They're faint, but they're there. Pale, gray-white lines have appeared, extending from her hairline to her jaw in feather-like shapes. She notices me looking and wipes her hair down to cover them as if she's embarrassed. Then she takes a step back from me, and her eyes are full of tears. For a moment, I see the real Rinoa in her, then her eyes harden again and she turns her face away from me.
At least I know the source of her strength and confusion. She's beginning to develop her powers as a Sorceress.
"Will you do what I asked?" she says.
Reluctantly, I nod.
"Then I'll go see Dr. K, like you asked."
She won't meet my eyes now. Would she be angry with me if I kissed her again? Probably. It now seems like her attention was nothing more than a ploy to get me to agree. It hurts to think she might play with my emotions that way, knowing how I feel about her. I don't want to believe this to be true, but there's a possibility that it is.
"We'll be in Deling in about twelve hours," I say to her and look away. "You should get some rest."
"Rest?" she says with a sour laugh. "I'm just warming up."
I am going mad from this incessant duality. She is within me, taking over my thoughts, my personality. This must be remedied or I shall surely fail in my objective. Just this morning, rather than snarling at that crazy little idiot, Odine, I actually thanked him for bringing me something to eat. A sorceress like myself does not thank lowly servants like Odine.
I think more and more about this Squall. At least now I have a face to go with the name. He is the young man whom defeated me before, the son of Laguna. Her memories are within me too. There are many battles, many moments of frustration and fear. But there are also moments of incomprehensible joy. Like the moment Rinoa's lips first meet his. Their first date. Their first dance. There are flashes of moments when their eyes meet, and some tiny exchange of affection occurs.
My face screws up into a scowl at this. Bah. What a romantic fool. Love and joy are things I haven't felt in years. I've no need for them now. Yet, with her inside me, I feel a great sense of loss, an anguish for memories of my own, deeply buried in my past. I haven't cried since I was a girl, yet the tears freely stream down my face now, hot and alien against my cold cheeks. I haven't thought of my greatest loss of all in years, yet now it's as clear as the day it happened. After all this time, I still ache for the child I gave up.
There was another man in my life. One that I had long forgotten. He'd been a man of high rank and esteem, though I don't recall where he was from, I remember his name. It was twenty years ago. I had already begun my reign of hatred, wishing to conquer the world, when I met this man. He was handsome, dashing and terribly charming. He'd come to Esthar, seeking peace, though he threatened retaliation should I continue my antics. But, like most men, he couldn't resist me, and fell easily into my trap. It didn't take much to get him into my bed, to woo him into my arms. Surprisingly little, if you ask me. One might think such an esteemed gentleman would have better sense than to sleep with the enemy, but he was as easily lead astray as any teen aged boy might have been.
I'd told him I was pregnant with his child, but he only laughed and made a flippant remark about my virtue and returned to his homeland. The baby came in the summer. She was beautiful and so frighteningly tiny. Her little hands were so perfect, her little feet were angelic. I loved her fully, as I have loved no other in my life, and never since. Just before that damned fool Odine ripped her from my arms, I gave her a name. Sophie. Beautiful little Sophie Caraway, just hours old was taken from me, and I never saw her again. She'd be nineteen now, providing that Odine didn't screw up and kill her with his idiotic tests.
I don't know what her name is now. I don't care, maybe.
Disgusted with myself for thinking about this little sob story of mine, I pace the room Odine has locked me in. It's a sealed cage from which I can not escape. There is a very strong barrier here, and my powers are still weak. Curse him! I pound at the walls, knowing he can hear me in his laboratory above. I know he can see me from the windows. He is studying me, and I know what he has in store for me. He will undoubtedly turn me over to Laguna, but this time, Laguna shall not win.
Is Laguna's son the one meant to be my knight? Or is that an honor meant for the Other? I still don't know the answer to this. It is difficult to be patient, even if I am becoming more like her.
I feel in my mind Rinoa is drawing closer to me. I sense her confusion, her duality is the same as mine, Her destiny is already laid out, and the steps she has chosen will bring her soon to me.
I eagerly await her arrival.
As we march toward Deling City, armed and ready for battle, I feel that old, familiar panic and excitement course through my veins. How I've missed this thrilling feeling while locked away in my office on the third floor. How did I ever let myself trade this for paperwork and meetings? I grip my gunblade in my gloved right hand, feeling its weight in my upper arm. It feels good there, familiar.
Rinoa flanks me on the right; Quistis on the left, Irvine, Selphie and Jilly are a few paces behind. Angelo follows somewhere in the distance, though out of sight. Anxiously, I glance at Rinoa, who is armed not only with her own weapon, but also carries an assault rifle, slung across her back, and a small dagger of Shiva, which is strapped to her thigh. Despite my worries about her, I can't say that she's not adequately prepared. Her face is of stone, her step confident, as if she believes only in her own success.
She reminds me of the way Seifer used to be.
We walk in an uncomfortable silence, unable to express our concern for her and our lack of confidence in ourselves. Her determination to take out the man who gave her life is something none of us understand, despite what he's done. The old Rinoa, as furious as she would be, would have considered imprisonment and extreme negotiation tactics, but never execution.
It is me she expects to commit the act, and I foolishly agreed to it.
With all the changes in Rinoa's personality, one thing remains constant, and that is the conviction of her beliefs. She is still committed to granting the freedom of Dollet, Timber and the Shumi Village, though there are but a handful left of the peaceful, quiet citizens, and she is dead serious about taking action against Galbadia and it's corrupt president for destroying what was not theirs to take. Still, the means she intends to use are questionable, if not down right unethical, even given the position we're in. But, I'm at a loss for another way to solve the situation. Galbadia only believes in violent tactics to obtain their goal. They always have, and I don't see any other way around this.
As we reach the city limits of Deling, it is clear that Dollet forces have already breached the city and begun their assault against their captors. Bodies litter the streets. Both G-army soldiers and those from Dollet lay in puddles of blood on the ground; some cut down by gunfire, others by swords. Explosions rock the city center, not far away from where we stand, and billows of smoke rise from the shopping district. Much of the city appears to be in ruins. Buildings have crumbled from mortar and bombs, storefronts are shattered, glass spills out into the street.
Beside me, Rinoa has drawn the assault rifle and carries it as if she were a well-seasoned soldier with years of training behind her. Hell, maybe she does. There is much I don't know about her these days. She is confident still; her head held high, her step unfaltering.
"Just as we talked about," I tell the rest of the group. We will divide up into three parties, two per group - me and Rinoa, Selphie and Irvine, Quistis and Jilly. As we pair up and head our separate ways, a second explosion rocks the city and a huge, dark plume of smoke rises from the direction of the Presidential Residence.
Though this residence is intended for the head of Galbadian government, President Caraway has never once used the place as his home. He still resides in the mansion Rinoa grew up in, thus giving us a tactical advantage against him. Rinoa knows a secret way inside via the sewer system, which leads to a series of secret passages within the house. However, she and I are not going in that way. Selphie, who already knows the way, will lead Irvine through the maze beneath the streets, while Quistis and Jilly will patrol the outside of the mansion, taking out G-army forces as needed. Rinoa and I are going in the front door, by means of force if need be.
Two G-army soldiers approach, armed and ready to do battle. Rinoa fires upon them, cutting them down before I have a chance to even draw my blade. Startled and feeling a little slow, I follow her into an narrow alleyway, which is dark and reeks of garbage. "We're taking a short cut," she says. I sense that aura of violence about her once more, afraid of what she's leading me into, afraid of what she might actually go through with.
Rinoa spies a G-army motorcycle parked at the end of the alley and turns to me with a grin. "Let's go for a ride." Without waiting for an answer, she hops onto the motorcycle and starts it easily. It's motor purrs, and she disengages the kick stand, keeping the bike stable with her feet and her arms. "Get on!" she calls over her shoulder as she revs the engine.
I reluctantly climb onto the back of the bike, now concerned for both of us. She hands me her rifle and says, "Take out anyone in our way."
"Who's the commander, you or me?" I ask, angry that she's taken over the mission without my permission. I may hate being commander, but in her current state of mind, Rinoa is the last person I'd give a leadership position to. It seems, however that she has taken control, and I have given it to her.
"Just hang on and do it," she demands.
"Do you even know how to drive this thing?" She's gonna get us killed.
"Of course I do," she replies. "Keep your knees in and lean in on the turn. If you fight it, you throw my center of gravity off." With one last rev of the motorcycle's screaming 900-cc engine, she hits the gas and we are on the move. With one hand, I hold the shotgun, with the other, I cling to Rinoa's diminutive waist. This is a difficult thing to pull off as we tear through the streets of Deling City at a break-neck speed.
She handles the motorcycle well, as if she'd been riding one all her life. This should surprise me, but after everything she's done lately, the shock of her irregular behavior is starting to wear off. I'm forced to admit that I don't know her as well as I thought I did.
Up ahead, six G-army soldiers are engaged in battle with a lone Dollet soldier. I fire upon them, spraying bullets as we pass. Four of them fall, leaving the soldier to handle the remaining two. He waves his hand in appreciation as we leave him in the distance.
We are nearing the Caraway Mansion, coming closer with each second, and I can see the roof of the building in the distance. So. This is it. It's all or nothing now. I hope Rinoa knows what she's doing.
Instead of parking the bike near her father's home and walking the rest of the way, Rinoa steers the machine up the sidewalk that leads to the door. Gunning the engine, she says, "Duck and hold on." I wrap my arms around her waist just in time, as we crash through the front door and speed into the grand foyer, wood splintering on impact with a sharp crack.
The motorcycle slides out from under us, its engine moaning in protest. I am stunned when I hit the hard marble floor, my breath knocked from my lungs. Pain shoots through my body, dizzying and hot. Nearby, Rinoa is already getting to her feet.
"Get up," she demands, impatience in her voice.
Slowly, I stand. A sharp pain in my left knee sends shock waves of pain through my entire left side. "Shit," I swear and hand her the rifle, leaning against the wall for support. I feel as though I might throw up from the nauseating ache, though I resist the urge and try to stand straight. My knee won't support my weight, however, and I topple over, almost falling again to the hard floor. With one hand placed against the wall, I lean heavily, dizzy from the pain.
Rinoa casts cure, relieving the ache somewhat, though not entirely. It's enough, though to prevent my knee from giving out beneath me. "Let's do this before I loose my nerve," she says, looking uncertain.
I hadn't realized that lack of nerve was a problem for her. She'd seemed so sure of herself. "You sure this is what you want?"
She nods and heads up the stairs, rifle tucked under her arm, ready in case we meet resistance along the way. I follow her to the office where we first met her father, some time ago. For a moment, she hesitates, listening at the door. There are voices from behind it, though we can not understand a word of what is said. So Caraway has company. Guards, I presume.
With a swift, hard kick, Rinoa bursts through the door, me close behind her. Caraway indeed has company, but not the kind of company we expected. Two dead guards lay on each side of the door; slash marks mar their chests, mortal wounds that could only be caused by a gunblade.
Seifer Almasy stands in the middle of the room, leaning nonchalantly on his gunblade, as our target sits tied to a chair. He is has been gagged with a thick piece of red cloth, his hands fastened to the arms of the chair with nylon rope, knotted several times. Seifer grins at us with pride, his gloves are smeared with blood, his coat spotted with it. "You like my work?" He asks, clearly pleased with himself. I'd say he was gloating, perhaps because he called our move, or perhaps just because he's twisted that way.
"Seifer, what the hell are you doing?" Rinoa demands as she trains the gun on his gut.
"Rinoa!" he exclaims, his sneer changing to a happy smile at the sight of her, then to a look of confusion at the sight of the rifle pointing at him.
Caraway makes a strange choked noise beneath the gag, drawing Rinoa's attention to her father. She slowly walks to where he sits and kneels before him, her face level with his. "Hello, daddy," she says in a strange, soft voice. Sarcasm drips from her words, her face is hard. "I'm sure you know why I'm here."
Caraway makes a sound of protest beneath the cloth, but the words are incomprehensible. Savagely, Rinoa rips the gag from his mouth. "What was that?"
He gasps for air, panting from fear. "I said I'll do anything you want. Just spare me."
Rinoa's head cocks to the side in that arrogant manner that reminds me too much of Seifer. "A little too late to negotiate, don't you think? You've already destroyed a village of peaceful creatures, for no reason at all."
"We had word they were planning an attack on us!" Caraway screeches, his face pale and full of fear.
"That's a lie," Rinoa says drawing closer, so that her face is just inches from his. She whispers something that neither Seifer nor I can hear, but which makes her father tremble. "The Shumi don't even own weapons, you fool."
Behind Seifer, a panel opens, revealing Irvine and Selphie. The count now stands at five against one.
"Holy mother of Hyne," Irvine breathes.
"Seifer?" Selphie asks, astounded. "What are you doing here?"
"Came with the Dollet Army," He replies, looking Irvine up and down with some disdain. "You stink, Cowboy."
Irvine shrugs and secures his hat upon his head. "It's my new cologne, Eu de Sewer. Like it?"
Seifer chuffs and spits in Irvine's general direction.
"Asshole," Irvine mutters under his breath.
I half expect Seifer to turn on him and beat the crap out of him. But he doesn't. He merely waves his hand and chuckles, dismissing the remark.
Across the room, Rinoa is still whispering to her father as she holds his chin cupped in her hands. He is pale, his eyes wide in fear. She smiles at him and laughs lightly, "Daddy, It's going to be so much fun," we hear her say. I can't help but exchange a confused glance with Seifer, who understands this statement no more than I. I can barely believe she's calling him daddy, when before she couldn't bear to even refer to him as her father.
"She wants vengeance for what you've done," she continues, sounding terribly sincere, "and I think you deserve her wrath."
What the hell is she talking about? What she is Rinoa referring to?
"Rinoa, let's get this over with," I say as a third explosion shakes the very floor we stand on. This one is much closer than the two others, and I fear we may fall victim to our own side by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Yeah, those bombs are getting closer," Selphie says, her brow wrinkled in concern.
Rinoa glances back to me, her eyes full of tears. Is she backing down? No. Her face is still determined, still hardened by her convictions. For a second, her gaze lingers upon me, and then turns to Seifer. For what seems an eternity, she stares at him, and then finally nods, as if to herself. Turning back to her father, she says quietly, "That's all the time I have for you daddy."
My knee aches as I stand, tense awaiting her next move. I have resigned my command to her without even meaning to. I watch as she stands and tosses her hair over her shoulder. She turns to me and nods. "Kill him."
I can't do it. My body seems paralyzed under her expectant gaze. This is the coward's way, to kill him as he sits tied to a chair with no way to fight back. He can not run, can not defend himself. I can not bring myself to lift my blade and bring it down upon him as he sits bound before me. I can not fight an adversary who, however corrupt, is still helpless.
"Squall!" she bellows at me, her eyes fiery upon me. "Do it."
"Are you chickening out, hero boy?" Seifer laughs, eyeing me with disbelief. His gunblade leans against his shoulder, gleaming in the overhead lights. "Allow me, Rinoa. It would be an honor to carry out your wishes."
She nods without looking at him. He grins and saunters his way to Caraway, who shudders in fear. "Please," he begs, "Rinoa, don't do this!"
"You are already dead to me," she says and indicates for Seifer to finish what I can't even bear to begin.
Seifer raises is gunblade above his head and brings it down upon President Caraway, slicing into his body without hesitation. He brings it down a second time, slashing open Caraway's throat. Red is all I see, all that I can focus on. Caraway's blood flows freely from his wounds as he gasps his dying breath.
Rinoa smiles at Seifer in a way I've never seen her look at anyone but me. Her expression is something akin to adoration, maybe love. In my chest, my heart pounds as she smiles up at him. "Good work," she tells him, squeezing his hand with her own. To the rest of us, she says, "Let's get back to Garden."
I am still riveted to the same spot, unable to lift my gaze from the dead man tied to the chair.
I feel sick.
