A/N: I still don't own FF8 or the characters, but I'll tell you when I do.



Chapter One

"Some crappy weather we're having, huh?" A fisherman complained to his friend. His yellow jacket was drenched from the rolling waves crashing on the deck. His hat was not doing much of a great job at keeping his hair dry. His bangs stuck to his face and the droplets of water hung in his beard, shining in the moonlight. His stomach hung over the waistline of his pants. He was a chubby fellow and loved to swim, but lately, he did not get the chance to because of the "crappy weather", or at least that is what he said.

"Yeah." Replied his friend. He looked somewhat like his companion, save for the fact that his jacket was blue and he did not have a beard or an over-hanging stomach. He took out a cigarette from his back pocket, not seeing the wave coming from the right side of the boat, and lost the entire packet to the ocean.

"Even the ocean thinks that you're going to die from that. Only Hyne knows why you still smoke. You'll get lung cancer or emphysema." Said the man in the yellow coat. He looked out into the ocean and spotted something unusually large, even for a fish.

"Hey, you see that?" He asked his friend, pointing to the large creature clinging onto a board.

The red-coated fisherman squinted his eyes, searching the waves for what his friend saw. "No, I don-.. Yeah, I do. It looks like a man's body. He looks kinda dead though., wait, he moved! Get the net! We're bringing him in. He could be rich or very important or maybe he's wanted and there's a big, fat reward!"

"What if he tries to kill us?" The first man squealed.

"Oh be quiet and stop being such a wuss. He's barely even conscious. Looks like he's been shot a couple of times. Look! He moved!" The man in the red coat was deeply in debt to a Galbadian soldier all because of a stupid bet he placed on the Dollet Dolphins winning against the Trabian Igloos in a silly basketball game.

"No, he didn't, dipshit! That was a wave, idiot!" The first man complained.

"Just go get the net!" The second man ordered, slightly annoyed at his companion. 'That guy can be such a wuss!' he thought.

They got the net, threw it in the ocean a few times and missed, until on the third try, they got him. They hauled him on deck and picked him up and brought him to the doctor downstairs. Hopefully, he wasn't high yet.

The man they pulled out was in horrible shape. He had a bullet in his skull and thankfully, it was thick and had not penetrated his brain. However, the possibility of the bullet cracking the skull was always an available option. There were two gashes in his chest, both parallel to one another. There were some rocks in his back He had a compound fracture in his knee, meaning his bone was sticking out.

They took the body downstairs to the doctor. The man was in luck; the doctor was neither high nor drunk.

The room smelled of alcohol and smoke from the previous three nights. It was small, cramped and messy. The fluorescent light in the ceiling that was blinking on and off; it was going to burn out soon. There were chairs in two out of four corners. In between them, there was a liquor cabinet filled with vodka, scotch, rum, whisky, a couple of bottles of wine and a case of twenty-four. In another corner, there was a sink and a basin. In the far corner was an operating table. Bottles that had once contained liquor were strewn across the floor. There were a few cracks in the ceiling and the water from above seeped through and dripped all over the place.

As for the doctor himself, well, that was a different story. His salt and pepper hair was wet, disheveled and stuck to his face. His eyes were sapphire and almond shaped. He had great posture for an alcoholic that sat on barstools until the wee hours of the morning drowning out his sorrows and seeking comfort in the alcohol. He had an unusual allure about him, almost saying that he did not need the world and the world did not need him. But right now, someone needed him.

"Put him on the table." The doctor instructed.

The fishermen did as they were told. They gently set the man on the table on his back. The rocks dug deeper into his back and his subconscious responded to the pain, releasing a loud cry of pain. The fishermen gasped in shock. They thought he was dead.

"Place him face down then," the doctor instructed. This was not going to be an easy task. The rocks were not helping the situation. The bullet in his head needed to be treated first, but the subconscious mind of this young man was not allowing him to. The two fishermen were feeling nauseous at the sight of the compound fracture.

The doctor began to "work his magic" on the young man. The two fishermen took that as their cue to leave. _________________________________

"I wonder what happened to Squall. I haven't heard from him since he left, TWO WEEKS AGO!" Rinoa spazed at her friend Selphie.

"Don't worry about him. Squall's a big boy and can take care of himself. Besides, he loves you and would tell you if something went wrong. He wouldn't worry you like that. Besides, we all know that stress can give you a heart attack." Selphie said, trying to ease her friend's anxiety.

"Oh, gee, thanks. I feel SO much better now. You're suggesting that. Wait a minute, don't women produce hormones that protect them against that stuff until menopause?" Rinoa questioned.

"Oh yeah! Oops!" Selphie blushed., "Well, I guess now I know I failed that part. I'm screwed!"

Rinoa just laughed at her friend. She was glad Selphie was here. Only Selphie could make Rinoa under such stressful circumstances, even if it was about Squall.

____________________________________

SOMEWHERE IN THE OCEAN, CLOSE TO DOLLET

The doctor noted his curious findings in the young man. He had already removed the bullet and the rocks and replaced his bone. As he tended to the gashes in his chest, a strip of film caught his eye. Carefully, he removed the film and wrote in his journal, "The young man continues to intrigue me. Just today I discovered a piece of film in chest, just on top of his rib cage. The bullet in his head did not cause any severe damage to his brain but may possibly cause amnesia." He patched up the young fellow and let him rest. In time he will wake up on his own. When he is ready.

The doctor walked over to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of scotch. The doctor preferred his scotch on the rocks, but there wasn't any ice, save for the ones that kept the fish frozen. He had tried that one time, but he nearly chocked on it. He decided that becoming Chocking Charlie on a boat full of morons who did not know the Heimlich maneuver was not the brightest idea.

He sat in a corner sipping his scotch and quietly observing his patient. He began to stir, shouting out a few words, slurring them. 'Incredible! He isn't even drunk!' the doctor thought.

"Riiiinnnnnolaaaaaaaaaaaa!"











A/N: There we go. The first actual chapter. Yeah, I know that my Author's Notes were longer than the introduction. That's why it's called an "Introduction" say it with me now, "In-tro-duc-tion"! Good! *Watches as the few people who were reading leave* Goddamnit! Oh well! Good Bye!