"Cool breeze and autumn leaves
Slow motion daylight
A lone pair of watchful eyes
Oversee the living
Feel the presence all around
A tortured soul
A wound unhealing
No regrets or promises
The past is gone
But you can still be free
If time will set you free"
"You Can Still Be Free" – Savage Garden
Chapter 13 - Trabia
At her proclamation Squall could have sworn he felt any trace of hope leave him. Trabia was supposed to be their salvation. If the strongest city of resistance had fallen what hope remained for the rest of the world – let alone them?
Rinoa was having trouble breathing – whether it was from the overwhelming empathetic feelings she was having or the shock Squall couldn't tell.
"Come on," Squall urged. "We need to see if everyone is really dead." He spoke softly, but the bluntness of his statement still hit Rinoa full force.
He cautiously, slowly put a hand upon her shoulder to give her support, realizing that she had not become insensitive to death as he had. She shook it off and turned to him with the inner fires of her eyes blazing with anger. "How . . . can you be so cold?!"
"Mourning will not bring them back," he stated simply. He had learned that lesson long ago. Death was something you accepted, not because you felt it was right, but because there was no other choice.
"Don't you have any feelings at all? One of those people that died could have been your sister or your mother or anyone else you cared about and all you can think of is checking to see if they're dead?" Rinoa asked incredulously.
The hatred he felt for Ellone resurfaced and he couldn't help but let an icy expression rest upon his handsome features. He crossed his arms coolly and turned his head away from her, not wanting her to read him.
"You're not even human!" she yelled at him. "I was wrong when I thought mercenaries could ever have feelings," she spoke coldly to him. Before her better judgment could reign in the emotions that were overrunning her system she added, "I bet the rumors were true. You were the one that killed your parents."
Only training prevented him from letting any sign of emotion escape his countenance.
Betrayal. Shock. Anger. He let them have free reign in his blood. Narrowing his eyes at her, he clenched his fist, controlling himself.
Squall could have easily responded with a comment that a sorceress was the one who had destroyed the entire town but refrained. He frowned, giving her a hard stare before walking quickly towards the burnt town. I knew I couldn't trust her . . . His heart was in agony at her obvious distrust of him. And after all this time . . . He walked away from her, ignoring the painful thudding in his chest.
There was only one thought that rested upon his mind strongly enough for Rinoa to pick up: They were right.
Rinoa followed him from a short distance. She hadn't meant to speak to him like she did. Her impulsive nature and her newfound empathetic abilities had caused her outburst.
"Squall," she called softly through their telepathic link. "Forgive-"
He quickly broke the connection. She gasped at the foreign feeling of something snapping in her mind. He had weakened their link purposefully to avoid the invasion of her into his feelings and mind.
She gasped in horror as she came upon Trabia. The once thirty foot sturdy wall had been burnt to ashes. The sides of the wall were unhinged and charred. White sticks poked through the fence. Rinoa took a step closer and fought down a wave of nausea.
The bone of human arms shot through the fence as if their last battle in life had been trying to escape. Why had the gate been closed?
She picked her way through the fence, yelping and quickly stepping out of the way as a piece of wood hurried towards the pull of gravity. Rinoa could still see Squall stalking ahead. She didn't need to be a sorceress to know that he was angry, betrayed.
Looking around the town she immediately closed her eyes. The destruction reached everything. Tripping on something, Rinoa looked down. It was a teddy bear that had accumulated evidence of its treatment. Blood and dirt encrusted the ragged doll - a child's most guarded playmate had been carelessly strewn across the road. She picked it up gingerly. Turning to the right she saw that the bear had not been abandoned. A young child probably left behind in the panic, lay completely still. His arm was still positioned towards his stuffed animal companion. Flies feasted on his rotting corpse.
"Oh god . . ." Rinoa cried in shock. She dropped the bear and backed away, horrified. Even in Deling the destruction had not been nearly this bad. She might have fainted except for the sharp reprimanding tone that interrupted her thoughts.
"Rinoa. Come here," Squall ordered telepathically. His voice was lined with barbed formality. She realized he only talked to her out of necessity.
Following his aura and pushing the horrific scenes from her mind she jogged towards Squall. He was kneeling.
"Squall?"
"Help her," he stated, nodding to the victim beneath him, not looking at the sorceress standing over his shoulder. A young woman in a once bright yellow dress lay at his feet. She coughed up blood weakly.
"No," she rasped. "Help Irvine first." She nodded towards the man whose hand she was still holding. She closed her eyes, resting for the time being.
The cowboy wasn't moving and Squall hesitated to feel for his pulse. He didn't know if he could bring himself to tell her that her companion was dead. Swallowing his fear he gingerly placed a gloved hand on the man's neck.
Nothing.
He almost pulled away when he felt a faint and very slow heartbeat reach his fingers. How he was still alive was a mystery to Squall. He had witnessed others with lesser injuries die fairly quickly. Yet he was pretty sure this man had been holding on for a few hours. What did he have that the mercenaries didn't?
"Something to live for," answered Rinoa softly in his mind.
Squall jerked in surprise, having been caught unaware he had been projecting his thoughts. He stood up with the natural grace of a warrior, standing besides the sorceress.
Rinoa hummed softly to herself. It was a chant of healing. A faint blue glow surrounded her and spread to Irvine and the woman besides him.
If Squall was surprised at how quickly how powers had grown his face didn't reflect it. Looking at the pair he knew they would be fine. Squall straightened up and continued walking on, searching for the dead, evidence of what had happened to the small town.
He would have to ask the girl in the yellow dress what had happened to the resistance movement, to the town, and the status of the war. He had been away from civilization too long, his connections to information sparse if even existing at all. The ex-mercenary had not expected to immerse himself in the world's problems . . . or rather the civilians' losing struggle. Since when did he become willing to help others beside himself?
"Since Her," his mind replied almost automatically. A deep frown crossed his features and he continued to prowl the village, expertly analyzing every detail. The heat left over from the fire that had consumed the town lingered, causing Squall to remove his cloak. The brunette draped it casually over his shoulder. Spotting a central building that looked like it could hold most of the town, Squall headed over.
The stench hit him first. The buzzing flies swooped in and out of the cracks of the blackened building. In his years as a mercenary he had never experienced firsthand their handiwork when they decided to be merciless. Bars had prevented anyone from inside the building from escaping. They had succeeded in their bloody quest.
Carefully Squall lifted the bar and jumped back when the door swung forward suddenly as if a great weight was on the other side. Heaps of bodies fell at his feet. The heat had been so intense their skin had simply melted off their skeleton, their flesh dripped in chunks from the rotting corpses.
Thoroughly sickened, but faring much better than did his sorceress companion, Squall headed back to the couple who looked like they had been the only ones to survive the mass killing.
Suddenly a hand grabbed his ankle. The gun-blader almost jumped back in surprise. His eyes immediately focused on the thing . . . no person grabbing him. It was a blonde man with a tattoo lining the side of his face, although with the soot covering him, his blonde hair could had been mistaken for a deep black.
Exhausted with the effort of crawling the man released his grip on Squall's boot. The mercenary stared in shock for a few seconds before reaching down and hoisting the man over his shoulder. He headed back to Rinoa. She was sitting cross-legged, talking with the two she had saved.
The aforementioned couple immediately stood up upon seeing Squall carrying another.
"Zell!" the girl cried in a mixture of hope and fear. She bounced up and down anxiously.
"Is he . . .?" Rinoa asked quietly.
Squall raised an eyebrow. "Would I bring him here if he was?" he retorted coolly.
She frowned, meeting his piercing gaze for a few seconds and nodded to Squall. "Put him down."
The ex-mercenary sighed. Since when was he doing errands? Complying he set Zell down gently.
The raven-haired sorceress placed her hands on Zell and cast a rather powerful cure spell. Her posture became unsteady and she closed her eyes as if to will away the headache. Squall checked his urge to help her.
"You ok darlin'?" the cowboy asked her, reaching out to touch her.
Squall took an immediate dislike to the man. Growling at him, he narrowed his eyes and blocked Irvine's hand from reaching Rinoa. "She's fine."
"Possessive," came Irvine's thought.
The blonde-haired man from the floor groaned and blinked a couple of times before opening his eyes steadily. "Ma?" he asked, sitting up and wildly looking around. "Ma?!" he called more forcefully. He would have gotten up but for Selphie's hand stopping him.
"She's gone Zell," she told him gently.
"NO! She can't be . . . I told her to take Ifrit . . . why didn't she take him?" he cried out frantically.
"Ifrit, the Guardian Force?" The question lay in Squall's mind.
"Zell . . . she loved you more than life itself," Selphie tried to comfort him.
"NO!! She can't be . . ." His eyes filled with crystalline tears. "Those damn mercenaries," Zell snarled, "they'll pay for this!" He pounded his fist into the ground.
"Aww . . . does Chicken Wuss miss his mommy?" a taunting voice reached their ears. They all looked up to see the familiar blond mercenary with a ragged looking Quistis in tow.