Well, there doesn't seem much point apologising for my lateness again since it's getting pretty frequent, eh? =P Put it down to a bad combination of uni work, final exams and worst of all, inspiration block… X__X Only about one or two weeks ago was I able to get back to this chapter and to actually write something decent… I found myself typing three hours nonstop that night, and two days ago I had another three hour bout of inspiration which took me from one to four in the morning… not good for the health, that's for sure. XD
That stuff aside, this chapter basically marks the end of all the preliminaries of the past 11 chapters – I'll be editing the chapters so far to be encompassed in a 'Part 1' section, just to make it clearer… Part 2 officially starts in the next chapter, and I think I'll include a recap of Part 1 since there were a lot of crazy things happening… ^^;;
Chapter summary time – for those of you who feel like it, turn back to chapter 10 and get a recap, since the first half of this chapter (sorta) deals with what's happening there, only this time it's in Squall's point of view. Beware of much abstract writing up ahead… this whole fic is supposed to be word exercise for me anyway… ^_~ Anyway, as usual I'll have more to say at the end of the chapter, so carry on dear reader! :)
CHAPTER 12: Goodbye for awhile:
The obsidian film that was settling like a restrictive gauze mesh upon his senses gradually filtered away the sensation of exterior forces upon his form, lowering him slowly into a quagmire of feathery fog which received him with an eager, chilly touch. Falling, drifting, floating… it all felt the same, this convergence of self-detachment… he faintly remembered feeling angry, he faintly remembered why… but the mere act of thinking suddenly seemed far too much trouble than what it was worth, the lethargic flow of his memories seeming vague and muffled, as though submerged in deep water… this letting go, it felt so… pleasant. He thought he might have smiled then, feeling his fiercely guarded core of being wafting away along the dark currents of his free fall, streamers of smoky haze dissipating in the after draft… lulled into a dreamy complacency, time itself seemed to have slowed and grown non-existent with the duration of his slow, soft plummet into an inky black maw of ethereal space…
Suddenly…
Touch.
?
It lingered.
……?
He hesitated, feeling the ebony bower quaver in time with his stirring, sluggish heart…
Touch…
He paused.
……?
It had been so long… since he had felt a touch like this…
……?
Tenderness…
Selfless, seeking, sympathetic touch… such an alien sensation, but one that was not unpleasant at all… confused, he felt his frame all aquiver with vying feelings… he was still plunging downwards along a petal-soft trajectory of midnight breeze, half of his mind spinning away along the currents and urging the rest of his being to submit to the heady sensation of self-liberation… but the other half of his head was suddenly overcome with an uncomfortable restlessness and a curious sort of longing, tentatively stretching out to the source of the uninvited yet not unwelcome touch… curiosity quickly evolved into yearning… something that had remained shrivelled and empty deep inside for so long was being unexpectedly filled… he thought that he could do without, he thought that such things were unimportant, but now he felt more than ready to admit that he had been wrong for so long. A sweet, honeyed warmth was flooding his barren core where it had once been stark and bleak, and he could feel himself glowing with exhilaration as he trembled in time to the humming, enquiring touch like a gently plucked string…
The driving frost lopped off the connection with such spontaneity that he had no time to protest; the rancid cold had cut through the dark softness with the type of sudden severity which heralds a billowing thunderstorm on the immediate horizon, and a guttural roar followed in the wake of the cold which sluiced over his pleasantly warmed form in a chilling torrent of darkened sound. Emptied once more and deprived of the source which had proceeded to fill him with the long forgotten thrill of affection, he tore his attention towards the writhing black shapes materialising out of the surrounding void which, without prior warning, had grown hostile and distant... from cradle to crucible… rising fear and a helpless sort of frustration seized him as the demand for movement that he directed to his soaring self was met with slackness, all reactions and reflexes having slowed to a gentle halt… vulnerable as a newborn and hemmed in on either side by the towering spawn of the void, there was not much that he could do in way of resistance as the shadowy spectres fell upon him with weightless yet stifling force… the essence of him did not react, did not retaliate or shrink away… he could no nothing. Something or someone had sliced his strings, leaving him as capable as a broken puppet in the face of a threat… he still managed to flinch however as what felt like the ribs of wintry wings combed against his being, feathers painted with the brush of deepest night stroking him with malevolent amusement… there seemed to be something achingly familiar in the black aura of the void, and a flash of images sped through his consciousness as he struggled with the task of identification. He knew that he had seen such darkness before, somewhere on the plane of reality… a laughing figure clad in cerulean blue seemed to skip through the thickening soup of his recall, the burnished strands of long flying hair smothering his mind's eye with the same feathery ice of the hungry void…
… the talons struck at that precise moment, and there was no gentle tentativeness in their cruel, forceful grasp. He bucked as the sensation of razor sharpness crunched effortlessly through his unresisting self, and he knew not whether he screamed in reaction… what he was all too aware of however was the immense weight of fatigue that had suddenly applied itself to the apex of his head, heavy as a bout of depression and doubly as dark. Draining… something was… draining him…
Rivers of pulsing warmth were sluicing away from his core in a frighteningly rapid flow, dripping and meandering towards the jagged points of penetration where the talons had skewered his persona… he feebly beckoned the currents back, voiceless and faint as he was… ineffectual as the action proved… a buzzing was flitting around his limp and palpable form like a droning bee, a buzzing that quickly flowered into a ripening bloom of hearty laughter… the void was laughing so jovially, the black walls trembling with the throaty vibrations and he could almost perceive the void to have shoulders with which to shake with hilarity… close by, so close that the empty air stirred against him with the movement, the rustling of a blanket of feathers drifted his way as did a cloud of loose black fibres. But there were other noises, now that he thought about it – below the humiliating jeers of the void, a dulled yet furious clashing thudded like a subtle bass line… what also sounded like clinks, crashes and a flurry of brittle snaps… something about the chorus of underlying noise pulsed with familiarity, something in it stirred the congealing blood of his comatose veins, something about it seemed so… so…
He could not remember what.
Everything seemed so… slow. So… still.
Exhaustion, the deepest that he had felt ever since he could remember, settled gently upon him like an invisible ether, stealing around him like a foggy concoction of Confusion and Sleep… drowsy now, he became limper still, the void having emptied him to the dregs of his core and all of his reserves along with it… everything taken, nothing given, but he suddenly couldn't muster enough strength to dwell on it. The darkness around him seemed to dim as grey stars flickered before his mind's eye, a fuzzy static of bubbling monochrome which was accompanied by a bout of heavy, foreboding silence… senses… numbing… everything. Seemed. So… meaningless. He didn't know why. He couldn't remember if this was even… even like him, to feel so… s-so…
He could not remember what.
……
For now, there was… peace. Quiet. He did not find it unpleasant.
……
To feel nothing… it felt… so… so…
……
… nice.
……
……
……?
???
!
!!
!!!
Something was happening!
!
!
Suddenly… feeling…
!
!
… so…
!
!
… s-so…
?
……
… ANGRY!
The void reared in synchronised rhythm to the flashing white sparks that were spewing from his very centre, and where they flung themselves in the air, the brilliant after trails throbbed steadily against the backdrop of the writhing black walls like the dying echo of a pulsing heart. The tired film that had coated his thoughts like a sticky web was torn away by a burning blade of freshly forged fury… red, everything was red… then white, a sheet of whirling snow which was hot to the touch… merging back into madder hues, dark as recently drawn blood. He surged forward, suddenly animated with overwhelming strength from an unknown source, but to his furious indignation, his flaming form met with a solid wall of resistance. Darting back to whence he came, yet another barrier was thrown into his path… all around, there were walls! The yowling gale churning out of his core quickened with his escalating wrath, the vicious wind whipping ferociously in crazy circles within the constrictive enclosure of his invisible cage. Again and again he stormed the barricades, the horrible shrieks of his self-generated tempest injecting him with something akin to berserk fervour as he blindly scrabbled at the unyielding blockades, willing them to crumble, wanting… wanting release…!!
And suddenly, release came.
It was nothing like he expected. Technically, he knew not what to expect… the frenzied desperation that was clouding his reasoning with urges for wanton destruction gave no leave for rational thoughts… one moment, the impenetrable enclosure was frustratingly staunch in its rigid resolve, the following moment the partitions between himself and beyond had ceased to exist… like the overheated contents of a rattling pot, every drop of his raging essence boiled and bubbled over into the waiting black maw of the void, cascading forward with the momentum of his eager charge… losing, he was losing it all…! He pulled up viciously, yanking himself backwards only to crash into the wintry softness of black satin feathers… the cold filaments stung, and where they bit they hurt greatly…
Fear, now sitting astride his vehemence. Coherent thought had slipped away along the running flow, and he was now afraid.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
He could not reign in the wild bronco that was his fury, try as he might – something was laying claim to it as fast as he could generate it… he could feel the void swell as it gorged on him and he did not know how to stop. Couldn't stop! Where had this rage surfaced from? A dormant beast, suddenly grown savage and wild in the blink of an eye… or… was it gifted to him? He did not know. All he knew was the marrow-numbing sensation of desperate terror, a fear almost cold enough to blunt the edges of his warring hate. The foreboding wings were folding, wrapping their repugnant silky lengths around him like a closing fist… they would suffocate him, drink him to the brittle bone! He resisted, his flaring self thrashing in an erratic jumble of red and white even as the layers of glacial softness wrapped themselves firmly around him, smothering him, endeavouring to snuff out his flailing flame… the darkness was setting in, shuttering his mind's eye with a finality like that of a closing book… he caught another flash of an image, set starkly against the backdrop of inky night…
Thump.
A… girl. With dark brown hair stroking the shadowy alcoves of her cheekbones, a pair of sunken eyes stirred beneath a shrunken brow and rose to fasten their gaze upon him… he flinched, feeling something within him recoil at the sight of a face so frighteningly impoverished, a face that might have belonged to an otherwordly ghoul but for… but for…
?
Thump.
I've seen you before…
?
Thump.
She looked so sad, so feeble. Those eyes, those imploring gravy pools of silent suffering…
Why do you look at me like that? Who are you to me?
…?
Thump.
And just like that, the vision was whisked away… and he felt bothered, as though some part of him had caught hold of the receding image and been thrown out with it…
The enveloping darkness only worsened the rising feeling of guilty inadequacy, and he simmered in a gloomy stupor beneath the tight seams of the folded feathers. The fight had seeped out of him yet the anger still remained, like a diamond-hard fragment which refused to disintegrate, and within his enclosure he continued to burn and seethe… a spitting flame, smudged around the edges with the confusing sensation of depression and the gnawing panic of edgy terror.
Thump.
Thump.
He would have whimpered then, if he could remember how. Tears might very well have been an option, since pride was no longer present to keep them from overflowing. The rustling darkness was Other and he instinctively cowered as its malignant touch explored the planes of his essence, the snapping flames snaking around his form parting submissively in the wake of its probing. The dull echo of his still burning rage seemed to pale in comparison to the roar of pure dread booming throughout the suffocating feather cage. Loneliness. He felt it, yet he did not know that he did. It was not an unknown companion, but this he did not know either.
All he knew was that he had forgotten, yet he did not know how.
Thump.
Thump.
!
You!
FLASH!
Wait!
Gone! But he had seen her again, he was so sure! Darkness temporarily forgotten, he flickered and flared, searching and stretching and reaching for the afterglow of the rapidly dissipating vision that had once again materialised out of nowhere… and even as the image melted and died, those bottomless brown eyes seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat or more, their wistful and imploring light shifting into something like a reassuring smile as they finally blinked themselves away…
There was no time to dwell on what it had all meant. Something had changed, something had evolved in the air around him… the void. It was bucking, shaking… screaming.
With an agonised shriek that would have raised the hairs of his neck had the sound been overworldly, the encircling wings suddenly buckled and crumbled away like rotten mortar, raining black dust upon his bewildered form like a storm of blowing ashes. He did not know what to do. He was free, but where could he go? He was still desperately afraid, with the dark walls of the void thrashing with some sort of affronted fury… and then the howling white wind of his core whipped him uncontrollably into a tumultuous basin of lashing black and white… his senses were instantly stifled with the chaotic screeches of the folding void… disorientated, he was helpless against the clutches of the tearing white wind as it threw him ever closer to the nadir of the spiralling whirlpool.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
It was over. All over.
Thump.
Thump.
PAIN!
!!!!!
He felt it.
He remembered what pain was!
He remembered how to feel, something… was returning, something was being… restored and… pain, pain, pain… it was flooding through him like quicksilver, ripping into him with blunted teeth and oh, it felt so terrible yet at the same time so dearly necessary…
:…… hea…r……m…e… y…et?:
?!
:…a…k…e… ho…l…d…:
?!
How long have you been calling to me?
:I'll… t…ak…e……yo…u…h…o…me…:
:C…a…n……yo…u…h…ea…r……m…e…?:
……
Yes!
Silently and swiftly, a golden cord seemed to materialise out of the sagging walls of the dripping void, burning brightly through the murky darkness like the beacon of a lighthouse… and just as welcome. It came sailing effortlessly through the white wind and the currents of the turbulent whirlpool, untouched and pure, anchoring its end deep into his humming core. It pulled. He responded. As he felt himself being reeled further and further away from the hungry centre of the caving void, his entire form sung with sobbing relief… relief that there was solace from maddening loneliness beyond the darkness, relief that he could finally remember what madness and loneliness was, relief that there could be company apart from… from…
…himself.
The final bellow of defeat from the cheated void already seemed far away, as though the sound were trying in vain to seep through a blanket of thick heavy glass. It was easily ignored. With an ensuing sharp tug of encouragement, he plunged through the weakened walls of the void, chewing through the black fog like a knife through hot butter and meeting no resistance. Faster and faster he flew, the golden cord snapping furiously like a wayward whip with the rush of his momentum… and ever so gradually, the darkness took on a dirty hue of smoky grey, a grey which waxed itself clearer and less opaque the further he travelled through the now thinning body of the soupy black cloud…
Light!
Blinded, he surged forward regardless, even as the flaxen radiance broke through the wispy clouds to pour bucket loads of white moonshine upon his trajectory. Bathed with the glowing shower, any lingering traces of the gloomy void were instantly washed away, but still he sped on… the golden cord still pulled at him, beckoning and coercing. He trusted it. He poured his faith into it.
He felt no need to know why. It simply felt right.
At last, he felt the line go slack, spinning him into an open window of glaring white luminosity which had suddenly taken form out of nowhere. Shooting over the boundary between his present location to whatever world lay beyond like a cork from a bottle, he turned and twisted, accelerating rapidly with every rotation down what felt like a blazing chute… through the overwhelming haze of disorientation and muddled colours, he caught one last glance of the golden cord as it snaked away from his falling form… winking with the gloss of its sheen, it suddenly froze in the middle of its waving movement as though it had been snatched by an invisible hand… and then he thought of it no more as the end of his fall was marked with a solid 'whump', and the onset of a muffled sort of silence. He understood why. The wind had stopped at last.
It was the itch that woke him. A nagging, incessant, unbearable itch which instantly invaded his awareness even as his dormant body slowly groped its way back into the land of the living. It was everywhere, demanding every ounce of his concentration, but it somehow seemed to be concentrated most prominently around a section of his brow… the infuriating sensation was completely and utterly intolerable. Eyes still firmly closed and the bridge of his nose wrinkled with the onset of a grimace, he irritably reached out a hand to the offending area, fingers splayed and nails armed at the ready…
"Stop that," an uncompromising voice lilted in his ear, quite close by. He started in surprise at the sudden sound, and then an unexpected hand which slapped his own away was enough of an incentive to flip his eyes open in sheer astonishment.
"Awake at last, are we? How do you feel, Squall?"
He only half registered the words as he winced in reaction to the glare of the strong light illuminating his surroundings. No, it wasn't too strong… his eyes just felt too tender, too sensitive… he might have voiced this, but the itch chose to seize his throat as he drew a speaking breath and his windpipe contracted, gagging any words that might have followed. There followed a rustle of fabric and almost immediately, a cold polished object was being pressed to his parted lips. Water, as cool and smooth as the glass, trickled in rivulets across his parched tongue… remembering how to swallow, the liquid balm seemed to snuff the last of his hoarse chokes and settled in a chilling pool within the depths of his stomach, shocking his groggy system into full wakefulness. With the onset of new invigoration leaking into his tired muscles, Squall finally felt ready enough to acknowledge himself – and any others around him.
"No fast moves, alright? There's nothing for you to prove in front of me," Quistis put forth bluntly, admonishing Squall's initial attempts to disentangle himself from the sheets that he found himself wrapped in. She was as impeccably dressed as the last time they had conversed, and Squall found himself half believing that absolutely nothing else had taken place between then and now… a conception that might otherwise have been more convincing if not for the irritating itch, and the realisation that several parts of him were swathed in coarse bandages. He lifted one firmly wrapped hand, gazing at it in blank astonishment before his eyes tracked further to his equally bound torso. Words started to gather in confusing clots along his tongue as he continued to stare at his form, a form which did not seem to be his at all…
"You seem surprised," Quistis observed, her voice coloured with mild amusement. There were a series of clacks upon the hard marble floor, and then the gentle creak of metal coils as the mattress sagged slightly under her weight. "Believe me, your tab has just sky rocketed to an all new high – that's twenty two potions you owe me now."
"What… the hell happened?" Squall finally blurted out, his already disorientated thoughts made more jumbled by Quistis' casual, dismissive attitude. He'd never known wounds like this, not after Seifer, not even Edea… it was a shock to the system to be so timely reminded of his mortality, and he could feel his annoyance increasing as Quistis maintained an enigmatic smile upon her angelic face in reply to his question.
"Burns," she stated simply at last, head cocked to one side as though listening for something.
"I'm not in the infirmary," Squall interrupted suddenly, having finally absorbed his context. The rich wood panelling and the heavy fibres of the carpet spread generously across the equally generous living space spoke of a Garden suite… his eyes tracked quickly around the room, eventually identifying the familiar dark leather case propped in the corner like a silent sentry. "How did… how did you get me to my room?"
"I managed…" Quistis replied vaguely. She only seemed to be paying half the attention that she should have been, her eyes adverted as she lapsed into a silence in which she looked to be concentrating hard.
Squall's suspicions were immediately roused. "What…"
He clamped down on his tongue as she raised a warning finger to her lips. "Play dead. Now," she hissed. The urgency in her voice and the trepidation in her bright blue eyes was enough to knock him back upon the pillow without hesitation, his heart beginning to thump hard in reaction to imminent danger. Uneasiness slithered underfoot like a snake in long grass, but he didn't have much time to get used to the feeling as a sharp knock on the closed doors made him jump in fright. With some effort, Squall kept his eyes firmly shut and tried to level his quickening exhalations. Without waiting for an invitation, the doors swung open with a rush of air and footsteps clomped into the room – the unmistakable sound of rubber soles collided with the hollow strips of wood layering the floor, muted as they swished imperiously through the plush plain of carpet. The footfalls did not hesitate, and homed in towards the bed.
Squall remained deathly still, his sixth sense already picking up on the aura of tension that had settled in the room with the entrance of the visitor. It took everything he had to resist opening his eyes, even as he registered the pause as the visitor halted somewhere close by, and felt the uncomfortable tingle of a probing stare brush over his passive shape like a cobweb in the dark. Subconsciously, Squall inwardly squirmed deeper into himself, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable, his imagination already concocting images of a loaded weapon being aimed at his bed-ridden body… but the strained silence seemed to invite words and Squall waited for them to come, albeit with slightly gritted teeth.
"It's been two hours since I last checked, Vice Commander. Are you going to assert once again that he's still senseless?"
Squall inwardly frowned as the deep, rasping voice clipped through the air like a hurled missile but kept his face composed. The voice did not trigger anything in his memory, but there was a quality about its timbre and snappish air which immediately indicated a military background; after growing up in a military environment, Squall felt no need to doubt himself for reaching that conclusion. The realisation was enough to set his alarm bells ringing as the memories of the last… Hyne knows how many… hours clambered back into view to swamp his skitterish thoughts. Esthar, Galbadia… Rinoa. And… Selphie. She was in this too, possibly more so than he… where on earth was she?
:"You will escort the SeeD known by the name of Selphie Tilmitt to the city of Esthar, guarding this individual with the utmost of your strength and skill and in cases most extreme, with your life…":
Squall heard Rinoa's words echoing through his cavernous mind like a scratched record, the implication of those words drumming into him a heightened sense of agitation…
Something's going on that I don't know about, and if Selphie has been hurt… does that mean I've failed before I've even started?
He was forced to quell his rising panic as he felt Quistis rise from where she was seated on the bed, supposedly to confront the visitor head on.
Get a grip on yourself. Calm down and listen, damn it.
"General Mandagul," Quistis acknowledged slowly and leisurely, deliberately articulating the words for the benefit of her 'sleeping' Commander. "You're certainly persistent."
"I won't be toyed with," the now identified visitor interjected forcibly, his voice cold and heavy like a slab of freshly shorn ice. "You're playing for high stakes, Vice-Commander. We…"
"I'm perfectly aware of Selphie's current position in Galbadian custody, so I needn't be reminded General," Quistis said in an equally stony reply. "But it would appear that your betters have overstepped their mark in… how do you say… educating, my Commander." A split second went by in which she gathered her breath, and a movement in the air alerted Squall to the swift pivoting of her lithe body… a customary Quistis action which he knew preceded a good talking down, and he almost involuntarily felt a wry smile twitch at the corner of his mouth, even as he consumed the bleak bones of information Quistis was secretly throwing his way.
"Are you familiar with the condition known as 'shock sleep' in Galbadia, General?"
Squall felt the air about a meter or more away stiffen. "We've gone through this before, Vice-Commander. I assume that you're purposely stalling for time for some insidious purpose?"
Ignoring this charge, Quistis barrelled on, reaching deep into her word hoard. "Since my previous explanations haven't seemed to reach home, you would have to forgive me for reasserting myself. I admit that this may be due to a lack of more competent knowledge on your home nation's part in regards to the multi-faceted sides of magic… but as I stated previously, and as I will state many more times to come until you fully grasp the seriousness of this situation, shock sleep is induced by an overload of Para-magic energies on one's sensory perceptors and receivers… Para-Magic is not an internally produced phenomena in the majority of humans such as ourselves, and such energies do frequently come in conflict with those who attempt to harness them. The effect which results from misuse or in my Commander's case, deliberate intention to inflict immense harm, is similar to any reaction which arises from alien energies ravaging the body. An electrical current for example will render one unconscious should the charge be strong enough, and given time, the victim will regain their senses and awaken. Para-Magic is no exception to that analogy but for the more mysterious forces behind it which require a longer period of recovery during the unconscious state…"
Squall recognised the recitation as a variation of an excerpt from a lecture he had once been unfortunate enough to suffer during his Junior days. Even though he was supposed to be putting on the act of deep slumber, he could already feel himself fighting to stay alert as Quistis droned on with her commanding instructor manner, although he suspected that it may have been worse for the General who must have had heard it all before. Squall could almost generate a smidge of sympathy for the luckless man…
"… and so it is before you. My Commander was diagnosed with the condition at 06:52, a good five hours ago, but I have treated cases such as his where the victim was unable to be roused for longer still… so I can give you no guarantee of when he will be able to have enough wits about him to be able to be escorted off the island. All I ask is for you to be patient in these circumstances, and for the Commander to not be moved until a sufficient amount of healing has stabilised his condition. I am doing the best I can to administer the treatment, so if you would kindly leave me to my task, I should be able to hurry the recovery along as long as I don't suffer any further delays."
Quistis snipped the thread of her speech with what Squall sensed was yet another pirouette, this time away from where he assumed the General to be standing and back towards his prone body on the bed. The silence did not last for long, speckled with alien rustles somewhere near his right ear, and a clatter as a solid object came in contact with something equally as solid.
"If you don't mind General, I'll be changing these dressings as they're an hour old." Quistis' voice rang out yet again like a sharpened rapier, sparring fearlessly with the General's sword of military arrogance.
"I mind," Mandagul replied bluntly. He had nothing to say in reply to Quistis' lecture, and Squall assumed that he'd simply not been listening or dismissed the information from the start. The air stirred and Squall felt the scrap of a current of movement flowing downwind over him, stirring against the lashes resting upon the arc of his cheeks. "Show me those wounds. I want to see how well they've healed."
Now that he was near enough to sense completely, Mandagul's presence was overbearing and heavy, as though his aura was stirred to the consistency of a pungent smog. Squall could detect an aroma of sweat mingled with spicy cologne, and once again, he had to resist squirming under the probing glare which he knew was clawing at his skin as though attempting to flush his bluff out into the open to be shot to pieces.
"As you wish, General," Quistis said curtly, and Squall could clearly see her customary shrug in his mind's eye. He heard more rustling, and the efforts of a blade sawing through tough and wizened fabric. "Since you insist on remaining, you might as well be of service. Take these and cut them in one meter strips while I remove the old dressings."
Squall picked up on the barely noticeable accentuation Quistis had placed on those final words and steeled himself from reacting as he felt her fingers brushing against the bandages which were secured around the circumference of his right wrist. Her fingers were cool but seemed to be glazed with a light film of perspiration, alluding to the guise of bravado that she was putting on in the company of the enemy. Something snagged against his skin and was freed… the bindings relaxed, falling away from his limb like the blossoming petals of a flower…
There followed a pause – of contemplation no doubt, on the General's part. Squall was curious himself to know how his wounds had fared, but for the time being, he only hoped that they were of a nature which was enough to satisfy the General's unspoken standards…
"Mild," was Mandagul's verdict, and a trace of triumph penetrated the gravel-like coarseness of his voice. "Finish up with whatever you're starting. He'll be moving as soon as he wakes or it'll be the Garden that suffers the consequences, Vice-Commander."
Squall recognised an exit line when he heard one, even when laced with a less than subtle threat, and in spite of this his heart lifted with a heady feeling of relief.
More sounds – a soft thud against the woollen carpet, followed by a more solid impact as a heavier object was tossed on the ground. "You'd do best to not treat your superiors as simple servants," the General directed towards Quistis, his voice hard, but from the sound of it, on the move. Squall's guess proved itself true as he heard once more the squeak of rubber on wood from the far side of the room, and a loud click as the door latch was released. The footsteps stepped around the open door, echoing in the empty bowels of the deserted hallways beyond…. or maybe not so deserted, Squall thought grimly as he picked up on a disembodied voice ringing out from somewhere further down the corridor. The door was shut firmly before he could register the General's reply but all that mattered was that his quarters were being guarded, possibly monitored, and he had no idea how the infiltration had occurred so quickly…
Learning something of Galbadia's efficiency, Rinoa? I suppose it also helped that I gave you the guided tour. Gotta love gratitude…
Quistis had not yet said a word, something which Squall interpreted to mean that he should not yet come out of hiding. Both of them were listening intently as the voice which had spoken upon the General's exit was still raised in speech, punctuated in between by Mandagul's deeper, more gruff tone. The walls were too frustratingly thick to pick up on even stray words, and the conversation came to an end with Squall having gleaned nothing in the way of information on the current status quo… the General's footsteps clomped past the door, fading into the distance where he was no doubt heading for the elevator and the inhabited regions of the Garden.
Helpless. I'm so damn helpless right now… that bastard could be doing anything down there and here I am holed up in bed like a bloody king.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You should be honoured that you're being waited hand on foot by the gorgeous Vice-Commander of Balamb Garden.
Squall started in shock, flipping his eyes open to stare wildly around the room and then immediately felt guilty that he'd failed to wait for Quistis to give the all clear. The room was empty of any other soul anyway, and the lingering traces of the General were rapidly dissipating like a boring person's name. Squall jerked his face up to Quistis' face, hardly believing what he was hearing, but the blank, glassy sheen of her cerulean orbs was all the indication that he needed for the truth to assert itself…
Why the shocked look, Mr Stoic? We've experimented with mind speech before, and it now seems like the appropriate time to remind ourselves of that fact, don't you agree? Eavesdroppers are abound; blind luck no one picked up the noise you made when you snapped out of it. No time to waste… I need to brief you on what's been happening, and you need to brief me on why.
One thing was for sure, Quistis could always be counted on to pull some surprises out of her party hat, and the explanation of how she did it was always something which seemed to have to wait – mind speech had been in experimentation at the Garden even before Squall's time as Commander, and to his knowledge was still in its infant stages of development. For Quistis to step out of the dark with such surprisingly honed skills… Squall shook his head in bemusement, wondering just how much else she was hiding and planning to throw his way in the future, but for the moment he shuffled his unimportant questions away for storage and tuned his attention to the more serious matter at hand.
Right. You first, and I'll join the dots as you go along.
Fine with me. Quistis' voice echoed around the hollows of his head with startling no-nonsense clarity as she plunged into her explanation without ceremony. It all started at 06:52, like I told the General – you should know how I get up early to personally supervise the Curfew lift. Of all sights to run into this morning, what do I see but one Selphie Tilmitt half dead on her feet dragging of all people, the thoroughly bedraggled and bleeding Squall Leonhart, through the Garden walkway? Hyne knows it looked like homicide… Quistis' mind voice lilted with dry humour accentuated by a mental roll of the eyes, and Squall found himself strangely able to appreciate the quirkier side of the situation. Quistis however, was quick to sober.
I could hardly get anything out of her. The two of you had been fighting, that much was clear to me – not with each other, judging by the Grat blood, but Grats couldn't have inflicted burns like the ones you and Selphie were sporting all over. Great Hyne, the two of you could've jumped in a lava pool for kicks for all I'd have known. All Selphie could say was something about a Limit…
She was right. Squall interrupted, grimness colouring the edge of his thoughts. He recalled the ferocity of that roaring anger, directed against the Sorceress before being unwillingly tamed by the same Sorceress's hand and unleashed again at her bidding… the white wind seemed to howl in his ears once more as he dipped an oar into the memory. He hadn't comprehended what had been going on in the physical realm, only concerned at the time with grappling at the very core of the fury that had been timely released by his Sorceress adversary. The sensation of guilt nagged at Squall's stomach at the thought of Selphie getting caught in the middle of the crossfire…
Sorceress? What?
Squall started, temporarily forgetting that his thoughts were being laid bare to whatever mental eye Quistis had projected into his mind. Her voice was raised in alarm as her instinctual SeeD apprehension of Sorceress-related issues sprang into life, and Squall knew that she was not going to appreciate what he was about to tell her… still, as Quistis had correctly put it, there was no time to waste. He had to be direct, unfeeling, cold… in other words, he just had to be himself.
The one and only sweet, innocent, Sorceress Rinoa – as far as I can tell, she's the instigator behind everything that's occurred in the Garden these past forty eight hours… the illusions, Selphie's injuries, my own, the Garden's infiltration… and that's the other thing. She held me at invisible knife point in the Training Centre, reading out all these bizarre terms and conditions on behalf of Galbadia… Squall paused, struggling to compose himself as he turned over Rinoa's words in his mind, like meat roasting on a spit.
:"You will escort the SeeD known by the name of Selphie Tilmitt to the city of Esthar, guarding this individual with the utmost of your strength and skill and in cases most extreme, with your life…":
Squall paused again, allowing Quistis to absorb the thoughts he was radiating in her direction.
What… on earth?
:"…know now that the untimely demise of Ms. Tilmitt before her appointed surrendering into Galbadian custody will result in severe repercussions for not only the captured citizenry of the city of Esthar, but additionally for the continuous welfare of the military faction, Balamb Garden and whomever else the nation of Galbadia chooses to punish for your incompetence…":
This is outrageous. Esthar? Captured? Dear Hyne, do you mean that…
:"…these are the basic conditions Galbadia demands of your precious Garden in exchange for the safety of the entire Esthar population, including its President, government advisory boards and of course, everyone's favourite darling, Ellone…":
The silence that followed thereafter was truly bitter.
They have us, so to speak, by the balls. Squall couldn't be bothered trying to sum up the situation with something more quaint, but Quistis either didn't notice or couldn't have cared less. She seemed to be chewing on a mental set of nails as she was finally brought to an understanding of the context of the morning's drama, and Squall could sense an ominous pressure building up in his head as though she was exerting barely sufficient control to refrain from exploding then and there.
Calm down… Quisty. The pet name slipped hesitantly into his thoughts and hooked onto his outgoing message before he could reel it back. He rarely addressed any of his colleagues with such comfortable familiarity, even one whom he had known virtually the entire span of his life… but somehow, it seemed appropriate for this particular situation. Something childishly naïve, a piece of absurdity on his part to neutralise the rancid cocktail of betrayal, disbelief and horror exploding in their midst… latched together once more, himself and his old orphan friend, uniting in the face of one more adversity when it had been hoped that the previous was the last…
It's okay. I'm okay. Quistis' mind voice resounded in Squall's head once more, gaining a stouter resolution with the second utterance. A grateful warm afterglow filled Squall's mind with a yellow tint, emanating a sisterly affection and wrapping around his thoughts with the likeness of a mental embrace. I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised to be double-crossed; it comes with the job too often. It was just a real blow to the heart... I must be getting old. Her soft mind laughter sounded slightly forced, but Squall permitted himself to smile anyway, appreciating the temporary lift of the dark cloud hovering over both of their heads. It felt… good to smile, even when there didn't seem to be much to be amused about. He was surprised to find himself admitting it… him, of all people. I'm sorry Squall. It must have been a… greater shock to you.
Squall tried to shrug dismissively, but he knew his thoughts spoke of a different level of emotion which Quistis no doubt could detect. We can't let our personal relationships get in the way of our duties – you taught me as much yourself. This isn't the first time anyway… Edea and Seifer… why should this time be any different?
You're right Squall… I forgot myself for a bit back there. Quistis admitted her lapse in discipline a bit hurriedly, as though trying to spare Squall further discomfort by prolonging the subject. But look, I haven't finished up yet. Laughter now forgotten, Quistis rearranged her composure and backtracked to the traces of her lost rhythm. Squall conceded, giving her his full attention and relieved that she had been considerate enough to drop what was a touchy and irrelevant subject.
Like I said before, Selphie wasn't in good enough shape for lengthy explanations… Luckily I had curatives in stock, which I gave to her on the spot. Not enough left for you though, which had me worried – we were on the way to the infirmary, hefting you along, and that's where we got intercepted. Quistis' mind voice grew more intense, as though she were leaning forward to emphasise her following points. Plain clothed Galbadians judging from their accents, at least ten in the group that stopped us on the way but Hyne knows how many more there were in the Garden. Obviously the intention was to keep a low profile, but that's not what I was really concerned with. The matter of contention was how they'd gained admittance into the Garden without proper, necessary protocol and before lock down had been lifted.
Squall winced, knowing where this was headed, but it had to be said.
Right. You realise it too? Garden Code, article 10, line 15… Higher level Garden Administration have such powers, but most importantly, SeeDs upgraded to Elite status also have those privileges. Balamb Garden only recognises three Elites, other than us.
Squall closed his eyes. Quistis could be utterly relentless when she chose to be.
Selphie Tilmitt. Zell Dincht…
Quistis' mind voice wavered, as though losing some of her generated nerve in the wake of revelation.
… And Irvine Kinneas.
Squall released the breath he had been holding and turned his eyes toward the pattern of cracks in the ceiling which had been the centre of his attention the previous night… a night which he was beginning to long for as a time of blissful ignorance, a time in which he had had friends as friends and not as enemies, a time in which he had not fully appreciated the worth of friendship and its fragile nature. A time of too little appreciation for family, a time of self pity, self immersion, selfishness… Too late, too late…
Too late for so many things.
It might not be what we think. Quistis' reasoning cut through the dark ambience like the beacon of hope that it was. He may have been forced. Coerced maybe. But enrolled under the Galbadian Garden Bill… that automatically makes him obligated to serve in the Galbadian military forces. I can just see it now… leading the whole parade up to the Garden gates, swaggering and turning on that charm…
… like a firehose… Squall chipped in drily.
… and just like that, we're at the mercy of the most hot-headed nation ever to grace this unfortunate earth. Quistis noticeably ground her jaw in irritation. There's not much we can do about him though, unless we give the Garden Code a good shake down after this… and I don't know if we'll be able to send word to any of our allies – the connection signals to Trabia must have been shorted out by now, just like our line to Esthar. Maybe we could count on Zell…
Maybe, maybe not. He probably won't be back for ages.
Ever the optimist, aren't you Squall? But I have to admit that you're right. Quistis submitted to the gloomy facts with a mental sigh. All the way in Centra cleaning up that infestation… those dragons will keep him occupied for a while yet, and he won't be in a hurry to get back either unless he picks up on the Garden's severed signals… and even if he does, we wouldn't want him to risk anything rash that might put Esthar's captives at risk. I'm convinced that Galbadia and Rinoa were serious – I've seen enough this morning to be certain that they mean business. Quistis paused, savouring another thought. Which leads me to ask – any idea on what they want Selphie for? The whole request… it's so… so bizarre! It… reminds me of the hunt for heirs back in Adel's time, although who'd have thought that Selphie had that type of potential in her… do you think that's the reason?
Could be. That may be the reason why Galbadia wants to keep such a low profile – just think of the panic that would kick in if everyone started thinking they had another Adel on their hands. But… I don't know. I'm just the emotionally blackmailed delivery boy. I'm not supposed to question these things or things around me might go kaboom… Squall's projected thoughts had taken on a bland, monotone quality as he proceeded to turn away from the unbearable predicament that he had conveniently fallen into.
So that's it then? You'll turn over an innocent soul to the enemy and just hope for the best? There was an irresistibly dangerous edge to Quistis' mind voice which forced him to pause and listen. As soon as Selphie enters that city, there's no telling what will happen to her or how she is going to be used in Galbadia's future plans. I've no clue why she's suddenly of so much worth to that nation, but the fact that they're prepared to go to hell and back for her safe deliverance is a pretty good indication that something serious is going down which we don't know about…
I'm perfectly aware of that. You don't need to remind me. It was now Squall's turn to get testy. But tell me, what the hell can we do to resist? You summed up the whole situation before – Galbadia definitely means business, and we've got no choice but to keep them nice and happy, just like how we deal with any other client. Besides, what with the emphasis that they're placing on me keeping Selphie safe, I somehow doubt that they'd go to all that trouble only to do away with her the second she arrives.
Point taken, but how can we be guaranteed that the Esthar hostages and citizenry will be equally ensured their safety? What if Selphie is an ingredient of some… master plan to blow up Galbadia's power to insane proportions, especially when they have a Sorceress at the helm of their operations? Are you just going to pass them a… a missing piece of a puzzle, so to speak?
I don't know. I just don't know. Squall was only a fraction away from breaking into a mental snarl as the frustration within him began to mount. I don't have any answers to those questions and neither do you. But as the Commander of a Garden which contains over one hundred enrolled students excluding staff, I'm aware that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Squall calmly closed his eyes, injecting a steadying dose of stony self control into the highway of veins coursing throughout his body, and when he spoke again his mind voice was cold to the touch. General Mandagul was right, Quistis. We're playing for high stakes here – human lives, no less. It's not just the lives of those in Esthar which are at stake, but any human targets which Galbadia and Rinoa think are suitable fodder to use against us in a psychological war of blackmail. If surrendering Selphie will appease them, then so be it – I'll escort her to their doorstep, and then we can plan our next move.
Quistis did not reply immediately, seemingly grappling with the icy and insensitive brand of Leonhart logic and not knowing where to start to refute it.
We can't let personal relationships interfere with what needs doing.
No. It's not that. Quistis denied. Oh fine, I admit it. I can't get over that fact… but my opinions on that temporarily aside, I also get the impression that this is a no-win situation no matter what path you choose. Whether Selphie is in Galbadian hands or not, they still have the ability to strike us and other people from a distance. Keeping Selphie here or letting her go… it doesn't seem to change the outcome. If we kept Selphie in the Garden, we'd at least have a greater chance at providing her protection and surveillance…
But on the other hand, taking Selphie to Esthar will buy us time without aggravating Galbadia any further. And I don't know about you, but I really don't want to see what Galbadia can do when they've got the shits.
Swear jar, Squall. It was an automatic reaction, and one which Quistis herself didn't seem to be aware of at first until it finally upon her – she couldn't help but crack a smile despite trying her best to hold it back, and Squall sensed the illumination of the shadowy recesses of his thoughts with yellow laughter.
Just put it on my tab.
It still amazed Squall to find that they could simultaneously pull humour out of their hats in even the most dire of situations… but having grown up together, it only seemed natural that they should find a common ground somewhere despite their ever present differences. Quistis then sighed heavily, drawing Squall's attention back to the matter at hand, but from the sound of things, she was done with locking horns over him in regards to the unresolvable issue.
I guess there's no point in arguing about this any further – I can't change your mind, and I don't think I would want to since it's you who's supposed to know best. Just keep what I've said in mind, okay? And… go easy on Selphie.
What are you implying?
Look, it's no secret that you two are chalk and cheese… just try to be civil, alright? And understanding, if you can muster the strength for it. She'll probably be wanting to apologise for that bonk on the head she gave you the moment she sees you, so that'll be a good place to start…
Excuse me? You're saying she hit me? Squall blinked in disbelief.
Nasty bump that one – I cleared it up for you though, but I guess it's still itchy. I suppose Selphie had her reasons… huh, Hyne knows I feel like doing that to you sometimes, so she's beaten me to it.
Thanks. Squall didn't bother to restrain his sarcasm. That's something I've got to ask her about when I get out here…
… and no time like the present. We've probably talked about all this as much as we can, so it'd be best if you don't keep Mandagul waiting.
What's the deal with him, anyway? I've never heard of him before today, so where the hell did he sprout from? Squall pondered as he struggled to lever himself off the flattened pillows, with Quistis providing a supporting hand.
Search me… probably an insignificant candidate who's the appropriate type to head an outing trying to keep a low profile. He's been an annoying little gnat these past five hours, believe me, so I have a feeling his superiors were relieved to pawn him off on a mission like this. Quistis' mind voice was wrinkled with contempt. The only helpful thing he did was to get you up here since he didn't want you treated in a public infirmary, which means that Kadowaki never knew what happened to you… and now that idiot already thinks he owns the place… give him some room and he'll be crowing at sunup. Anyway, he'll be escorting you part of the way to Esthar, for reasons I'm not sure of… probably with some of the other Galbadians too. Security measures? Or maybe he'll be generously providing a train fare?
Boat fare more likely, if we're heading at least part of the way to Esthar. It'll be about three days journey to FH with weather like this… they'll probably drop us off at the train tracks and bid us a good time. Whatever, I don't care if he tags along for some of the way. Safety in numbers after all.
Too bad you can't choose your own company. Quistis remarked idly, her fingers working at the knots in the bindings wrapped around Squall's upper arm. Help me out here – we've got to get you presentable quick smart.
Squall obeyed, tugging at the bandages which hugged his left wrist and stripping them away. As they came loose in his hands, he peered in surprise at the pale, unblemished skin which lay beneath, expecting at least some traces of red hue. I thought you said I'd been burnt?
Forgive me if I exaggerated some of the details… Quistis winked conspiratorially. I wasn't lying about you being hurt in that way, but I figured a couple more bandages here and there could help you out in your invalid act. Luckily for us, that rock head Mandagul wasn't too observant.
… But at least bright enough to know a boring lecture when he hears one.
Enough of that potty mouth, my dear commander, or I shall leave you trussed up like the turkey that you are… Quistis yanked at the strip of cloth anointing Squall's brow for emphasis, and turned in mock anger to flick the dressings into a tray on the bedside cabinet. You handle the rest – I'll get your gear.
Squall watched out of the corner of his eyes as Quistis crossed the room to where his cupboard stood in the corner, swinging the doors outwards and rummaging inside. The outfit she pulled off the hangars was a memorable one; the casual leather attire and the fur-lined collar of the black bomber jacket peeped out of the corner of one bent arm where she had draped them, and Squall felt a familiar stirring of nostalgia as the prospect of adventuring once more into the wilderness of the world settled upon his shoulders like the arm of an old friend.
Back to doing what I originally signed up to do… I wish it were under better circumstances, but at least now I can feel as though I'm actually doing something… making a difference, or an impact… protecting. Protecting the ones I love.
Squall faltered as he stumbled over that final thought.
I'm sorry Selphie. But I have to protect… Ellone. And my father. I have to atone for what I failed to do in the first place. I know you'll understand…
Try as he might though he couldn't fight off the guilt, for all his moral lecturing. He could clearly see Selphie skipping before his eyes, cutting a swift yellow path through the cold Garden interior with clipboard in hand and her heart permanently in the other… those green eyes which swam with hopeful fire and that ready smile, the words 'Festival Committee' always on the verge of being uttered from between those upturned lips. A yellow blur… sunlight. Always like sunlight. Fleeting and bright, injecting something that was lacking in the stiff marble halls and rigid soul of the Garden which he now headed… cold, like its Commander. The way he liked it. But his thoughts were wrenched back to the painful memory of that cheerful glowing girl as he had seen her only yesterday, completely oblivious to the turn of events which were about to slice through her spacey world of music numbers and fireworks. He couldn't shake the fact that he had no choice but to have a hand in that destruction…
I know you don't deserve it. Nobody does. But… you're a SeeD. You should accept sacrifices better than anyone else. Things can't always go the way we want them to. And… I know that you care as much about Ellone as I do… you won't want anything to happen to her. That's just the way you are, Selphie… it wouldn't matter if I wanted to stop you anyway…
Squall could almost feel himself being sucked into the truth that he wanted fervently to be real, but they were comforting thoughts nonetheless. Selphie, you can save Ellone… and Esthar. I've already failed, but it doesn't mean I have to let you fail too.
That decided it. Squall felt his jaw tighten with chilling resolve.
I'm not going to let you fail. I'll get you to Esthar, even if I have to knock you out and carry you there myself.
He had to admit he was almost scaring himself… some sort of fanatical determination was wrapping its claws around his chest in the spur of the moment, making it hard to breathe and think…
I'm going to get the sentry outside to notify Mandagul. Quistis' mind voice cut across Squall's fretting and he jumped in embarrassment, forgetting that they were still connected in that way. However if she had borne witness to Squall's latest series of reflections, she either chose not to comment or ignored them completely. Standing in arm's reach of the doors to the suite with Squall's garments in hand, Quistis hesitated, as though combing her mind for anything else that needed to be said before she set the boulder of events in motion.
There won't be time for goodbyes and well wishes when the General gets here, so I might as well say them now… Quistis' smile radiated from where she stood, floating across the length of the room to pat Squall's cheeks with sisterly affection. Good luck and stay safe, Squall. No matter how much I rant and rave, I have complete trust in your good judgment, so I hope you'll make the best possible decisions for yourself and Selphie… and I know you'll look after her, so I don't even need to ask. I couldn't have thought of a better candidate for the job.
It was a jolt to hear Rinoa's words being reiterated by Quistis and it almost dampened the mood, but Squall did his best to ignore it. It was no harm if Quistis had as much faith in his abilities as his opponent did…
So I guess this is goodbye for awhile. Quistis shrugged in defeat, keeping her leave-taking short and giving in to the demands of fate and the power hungry nation which lurked outside the presently closed doors. Squall nodded and managed a lopsided smile, knowing that words weren't necessary to convey the emotions he was feeling – Quistis could practically read him like an open book… although he hoped that his emotions weren't so bare to her scrutiny that she could detect the guilt within, throbbing in time to his racing heart…
A few more heartbeats scurried away before Quistis stirred from her spot on the carpet, and as Squall looked on with his mouth set in a neutral line, she reached for the door latch which she pulled down upon with a firm hand. The hinges squeaked in protest as the door was pushed open, releasing a catch of golden light from the hallway which spilt eagerly onto the carpet like a spreading yellow stain.
Quistis leaned forward through the opening, the light bouncing off the highlights in her neatly styled hair and she gathered a speaking breath, expelling the necessary words without hesitation in a voice which bounced off the hollow wooden walls to reach whoever was stationed beyond. Squall could almost hear a faraway rumble of thunder as the imagined boulder trembled then abruptly surged into motion, no doubt destined for a doomed and shattered death at the bottom of its reckless descent…
"Please notify General Mandagul immediately – The Commander has awakened."
* * *
Congratulations to anyone who read this chapter in its entirety, which numbers 10 540 words and counting… *__* longest chapter to date, since I didn't want to carve up the two parts! This is the last time Squall and Quistis will be discussing things for a long while, and it gave me the chance to interpret how I think they'd converse with each other… as for the mind speech thing, it was just something which I thought would be plausible in an environment so dedicated to magic – I mean, heck, if you can summon kick-ass deities, then why not mind speech? =P *Shrug* Also, don't expect 'General Mandagul' to play any important part… just another disposable character I pulled out of the air to be a prop. I'm not a big fan of creating new characters… -__-;;
Anyway, there's no telling when I'll be able to update again so don't expect any fast moves from me… ;) I'm amazed that I've been able to get this chapter out right before my exams start… yes, I have weird priorities. XD So then, a few more words to out sponsors:
Karla: I've left out the 3 since you don't like it… ;) thankyou again for the positive review, and lol, I didn't think it was corny so never fear! ^__^ *Shakes your hand*
CTHSKI: Heh heh, rest assured Rinoa's intentions are far from good, even if it may seem like they are… *evil laugh* wait and see, for all shall be revealed in time! *nod* Ta muchly for putting up with Rinoa's rantings, and I'll see to it that they won't happen very often! ^_^;;
Coming up next: Part 2 kicks in, as well as the long awaited journey to Esthar. Don't expect things to run so smoothly though, since there're other forces apart from Galbadia who seem to have an interest in Selphie's unknown, but obviously very powerful, abilities… will Squall be able to successfully carry out his guardian duties? Stay tuned, and take care everyone! ^__^