Disclaimer: I own a couch, I own a fridge, I own underwear and a TV … but I do not own the large corporation that is SQUARESOFT, nor do I own Final Fantasy VIII.
Chapter TwoSquall closed his eyes while remembering that night. The errors made that night were countless and he could recall them all so vividly. He got up from his position on the uncomfortable motel mattress and ruffled his hand through his brown hair. Instantly he eyed the telephone on the termite-eaten bedside table. He longed to call her, to hear her voice again even though it would most likely detain a sharp tone of anger.
He picked up the phone off its cradle and paused, momentarily thinking of what to tell her. 'Hey honey, I'm in Dollet. I'm on another mission, this time I'm off to kill a drug lord that's on a business trip.' A sardonic smile appearing on his face, he set down the phone again.
Squall let out a retained breath slowly and reached for his pack of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it. Inhaling precious carbon monoxide that bonded with his red blood cells and that had some enhancing effects on his nervous system. A habit he was never able to 'kick'.
Still twenty minutes to go until 'show time': his mind subconsciously reading the cuckoo clock on the wall. A short hour ago he was willingly ready to rip the clock apart due to the ugly sparrow that sprung out every forty-five minutes making that excruciatingly annoying 'cuckoo-cuckoo'. Now he was partly grateful for it since his watch was on his dresser at home.
Swiftly, and his motions never were otherwise, he picked up the phone once more and, before a second thought was put forth, he dialed his home number. Yes, it was past the kids' bedtimes but he desperately needed to speak to her, to hear her.
"Hello?" After only a ring and a half she was on the phone. He guessed that she must have ran for it as to diminish the number of rings that chanced the awakening of the children.
"Hey Rinoa, don't hang up, it's Squall." He said this quickly, a pleading tone very apparent in his voice.
"I know it's you: who else has these genius ideas to call so late at night?" He learned to read her well, she was still angry.
She barred all entrance routes to conversation, so he stayed silent and awaited his punishment. It took no delay in coming to him, "So where are you now? At the other end of the world?"
"No." He sighed and rubbed his temples, "I'm in Dollet." He should have known that calling her was a bad idea and that he would make her anger towards him even worse.
"Oh great, Dollet!" She spat sarcastically, "Doing what?"
"You know what I'm doing." His voice was low and monotonous, "I'm working."
"Un-huh. Is that what you call it then? Working?" It was a rhetorical question, suddenly snapped from the jaws of vicious argument.
"Rinoa, I just called you because I'm sorry about what happened a few days ago." For once that shut her up, which was quite rare when they were arguing.
Though it held her tongue back for a moment, it didn't last forever, "Yeah, well that's fine. Especially when you're in Dollet." Traces of sarcasm, traces of resent; however, he couldn't detect the black anger that was there moments ago.
He stayed silent a moment and then spoke again, a little more softly this time, "Rinoa, what were you expecting me to do?"
"I don't know, listen… Alessandro is shrieking about the 'thing' in his closet again. You may be able to run away from your part but I won't." He could hear the distinct screams of fear in the background right before his wife hung up on him.
He stayed motionless for a second and then replaced the phone on its cradle. Slowly he sat back down on the bed, making the cheap frame creak under his applied weight. You may be able to run away from your part but I won't. Guilt settled deep in his mind. His cigarette had burnt to a stub and so he threw it on the dirty floor, grinding it to extinguish the slowly burning embers.
He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "I'm running away from my part, she's right." He said this aloud, to make sure he was listening to himself. "I didn't even know Alex thought there were monsters in his closet… I never asked, I never heard." The guilt grew bigger; it dug deeper into his mind, making him in heavy need for Advil or Tylenol.
Alessandro … Alex … Sometimes referred to as 'Monkey'… The first-born. He was in first grade now, wasn't he? About six years old now? Or seven? When is his birthday? Rinoa knows: Rinoa knows everything. The neglectful father that is himself, however, only remembers how his child came to be.
~*~
She had lain, sleeping, next to him that very same night of many mistakes. His arm draped over her warm body, he had watched her, examining every little facial feature that she portrayed while sleeping.
"I've fallen for you," He had whispered into her unhearing ear, "I love you."
And they had awakened the next morning, both feeling slightly embarrassed at the conditions they had awakened in. However, they did get up and that very same morning they left the hotel to report back to Deling City where the headquarters were situated.
"We've heard of the complications," Mr. Ackroyde had acknowledged at the brief meeting that followed the arrival.
"To say the least!" Squall had exclaimed, "The guy knew exactly who we were, what we were doing… He even knew Rinoa's father had trained her!"
There was a façade of unreadable emotion on the 'big chief's face, "Well, undoubtedly a professional, you should know this Squall. If anyone was sent to kill you, even the stupidest fool would send a professional."
Mr. Ackroyde had been right then. They were professionals, trained to the peak of perfection: who some thought were invincible. So why would anyone kill them? Easily answered, however who would want to take the risk?
The questions that had plague him, however, they had began to slowly kill her. She was only seventeen, far from wanting to die, and maybe that's why a month later she resigned.
"This'll be a short mission, do you two mind going?" Caraway had been flipping through the file while contained the mission briefing. Mr. Ackroyde by his side had cleared his throat.
"That's fine, I'll go…"Squall had shrugged and turned to Rinoa, "You?"
"I'm not going." This earned her a few gasps from the few people in the room, "I'm leaving."
Her father gave her an awkward stare, looking as if he'd seen this scene acted out before, only with different actors. "Why… Are you leaving?"
"Because, I don't want to… Do this anymore." She had replied slowly, "I'm not sure I can, so I won't."
"I said… Why?" Her father had pushed, an infuriated look taking place of the surprised one, "There is another reason…"
Ackroyde had said nothing then, a determined look on his face. Squall had followed his example.
Caraway never had been able to make Rinoa tell the reason of her short noticed leave and this seemed to aggravate him to a point of insanity.
Squall, however, had not wanted to settle for silence. He cornered her in the hallway, demanding a truthful answer… His luck wasn't any better than Caraway's.
"Why are you leaving?" The question was blunt, the victim unable to escape between the two arms that had implanted themselves firmly on each side of her on the wall. She leaned on it slightly sighing, "Oh come on, Rin… I know you aren't just leaving because you woke up this morning thinking 'Hey, I think I want to be an journalist!'"
"So what the hell does it matter to you, Squall?" She had said in a low exasperated voice, she had obviously faced the same confrontation with her father.
"It matters to me because… Wouldn't it matter to you if I decided oh-so-suddenly that I wanted to become a freaking bartender or something?" He pressed.
"It would worry me, but I certainly wouldn't poke my nose into what isn't my business." A direct attack, meant to faze him, to shake him off.
"But see, it would be your business… I thought we were friends… Maybe even more… Hyne, doesn't anything mean anything to you?" He felt like screaming it out to her but his voice had to be barely audible so not to catch unwanted attention.
"Squall, it means too much! Stop this!" She had shoved him off and glared at him. Never had he seen her eyes so bright with tears… However they did not fall. "Just let me live my life, you would want no part of it. You can run away from your part, but I can't and I won't!"
The very same words that she would repeat to him for the next seven years spent together. "Rinoa… What is this? What do you mean?" He stood there, frightened, unable to expect anything for fear of the unexpected.
"Just… Leave me." She had turned, and she had run, leaving him in the labyrinth of sorrow and hate where he had begged many days for the answers to the cursed questions.
I'm so alone, why did you leave me?
Sammy: Hey, hey! Second chapter is up! Thank you to all of those who reviewed; you don't know how much it means to be encouraged! I know really well where this is going (which is a first for me) and so I will continue writing a chapter per week over the summer! There shouldn't be any delays anymore since I'm on SUMMER BREAK! So thank you all for reading, and please review!!