A/N: Well, here's the next chapter, as promised. Just a little note, the song featured below is the one I listened to while writing this. It's kind of the theme of this chapter, and one of a few for this whole story.
"Sometimes I remember the darkness of my pastBringing back these memories I wish I didn't have
Sometimes I think of letting go, of never looking back
And never moving forward so that there would be no past"
-"Easier to Run" by Linkin Park Meteora
Chapter 4
Silence, darkness, the unbreakable void. These things were so familiar when nighttime fell. The curtains were pulled back, pale sparkling moonlight spiraling down from the blackened sky and illuminating the room, bringing animation to the stillness. From the other side, loud monotonous snoring could be heard, rising from the pile of wrinkled sheets on the cast iron bed. The violent thoughts would surface, the hushed, whispering voices would speak, but the urge would be quelled in an attempt to adhere to that last shred of humanity inside. This was why he couldn't sleep.
It never went away, the constant chatter in the back of his mind. Whether they were just conflicting thoughts of his own, or words rising to his head from some unknown destination, he had yet to figure out. And how long had it been now? Two years, three years? He'd stopped counting. Every now and then he'd hear one of them say, "What does it matter? You'll be here for the rest of your life."
Tonight's 'conversation' was different. He had long since grown use to the feelings of hatred and disappointment, both toward himself and the rest of the world. But what was this feeling now? Sympathy? It was new, yet reminiscent of another emotion he held far too close to his tortured heart. Guilt. This was something he felt everyday, but not for one of those people. Not for the people that kept his trapped within these walls, not for the people that force-fed him medication that made him feel more like an empty shell than he already did. But now there was her, and it was for her that he felt guilty.
He wanted to be left to himself, to rot away within the safety of his own silence. He already resigned himself to the fact that life would slowly drain away from him as he suffered inside this building of stone. So why couldn't they just give him his solitude, his last remaining sanctuary? Why couldn't they let him dwell in his misery alone? As much as he wanted this, he knew that hurting other people was useless, and only caused more problems. What kind of pain had he inflicted on her this afternoon? He had made her doubt herself, scream at herself, tear herself apart from the inside while she tried to find the answer to why she wasn't good enough. Such was a process that he loathed, but knew by heart.
He watched with narrowed eyes the spot where she had cried, hours ago. True, she was proving to be a pain in the ass, but who was he to begin the deadly cycle? Those in pain, inflicted pain upon another, and it spread from person to person, an incurable disease that caused their world to crumble.
"Why should you care? It's not your problem."
"No, she didn't deserve it. Quistis maybe, but this girl's done nothing to you."
"Fuck them all. Why should you suffer and they not? It's only fair."
Squall gave a slight growl. He was use to these feelings of indecision, these words of conflict in his mind, but this time he felt compelled to do something. Whether it was to ignore her, or apologize, he was at a loss.
His pondering was interrupted as Zell shifted away from his pillow, and his previously muffled snores became louder. He paused for a moment to consider his tactics, but decided not to even bother to shut him up. Instead he turned reluctantly from the window, irritated that he still had not figured anything out, and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over his head to try and drown out the rest of the world. If only he could do the same for his own…
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Sunlight flooded the spotless white hallways, and heavy boots sounded against polished linoleum. They passed several rooms, both private and public, as they continued their seemingly endless march. Finally they stopped outside a heavy oak door, and he couldn't help but have that feeling of Déjà vu.
"Here we are, Mr. Leonhart," one of his 'escorts' announced in a deep voice. "Nice to see you were more cooperative this time."
Squall grumbled a reply before turning the cold brass handle and heading into the destination that he so dreaded. As he entered every head in the room seemed to turn to him in shock and followed him as he stomped grudgingly across the room to take the last remaining seat.
"They're watching you, they're passing judgment. They know everything that you've done."
"They're hands are just as stained as yours, what right do they have to look at you that way? Stop them, make sure they never look at you like that again!"
"You can't escape them. No matter where you go, they're gonna hunt you down."
He shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the voices as they overlapped each other. They could never be silenced. He put his fingers to the bridge of his nose in exasperation, but opened his eyes again when he noticed the unbroken silence.
The first person he saw when he opened his eyes was Rinoa. She glanced at him every now and then with wistful eyes that seemed to reflect a bit of shame at having failed him. Even after how he'd treated her, she still felt bad. He couldn't look at her anymore. Instead his eyes wandered over to the woman sitting beside her. In all her self-righteous glory, it was none other than Quistis Trepe. She gazed at him with those eyes, the ones that sent his blood boiling. No matter when or where, she always seemed to hold a 'holier than thou' glint in those faded cornflower blue eyes. While at the same time swearing that she was only trying to help.
"She thinks she's everyone's savior. But she was the one that-" the disgusted voice was cut off by one that disgusted him even more.
"Well, nice to see you could make it, Squall," she said, smiling at him.
"All thanks to you," he growled under his breath. This time she, too, had sent guards to retrieve him from his room and drag him to group therapy.
Quistis gave a satisfied laugh. "Yes, I wanted to be sure you joined us. We want you to share, we want to hear what you have to say. Tell us what's on your mind, Squall."
He said nothing. There was a sudden tightness in his throat, and he couldn't bear to look at anyone. But he knew, he was absolutely certain, that they were all looking at him. He could practically feel their eyes burning through him, silently picking him apart, and he couldn't stand it.
"They're watching you, they know everything about you. They can hear your thoughts. There is no safety."
"Squall, I asked you a question," Quistis spoke again, her voice sharper than before.
"You can't speak. What would you say? They're waiting for you. What will you say?"
"Squall-" Quistis began again, but Rinoa stopped her.
"Quistis," she began in a quiet voice, knowing that the doctor was already cross with her, "I don't think this is such a good idea."
Quistis frowned then turned to stare at her silent patient. He still had his head down, as if in deep concentration. This was how it always was with him. Squall acted like a mute when he was anywhere near her, it was infuriating. Why couldn't this man see she was just trying to help?
Sighing, she leaned over and tried to place a hand on his arm in encouragement, but before she could even come close, he stood from his chair, so quickly he knocked it over, and turned to her with a look that was something between delirious fear and deadly rage.
"I don't need this shit!" he growled before storming out of the room. He knew well what would happen as a result of this, but at the moment he didn't care. He just had to get away.
"Run, get away from them now! If you run now they can't hurt you."
He hadn't been out the door very long when he heard the click of high heels behind him. Thinking it was Quistis, he quickened his pace, not noticing, nor caring where he was headed. This didn't stop her, however. Only moments later he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"That filthy hand! Stained with your blood!"
He whirled around, eyes aflame, only to have his anger suddenly drain away from him. The eyes he met were glimmering brown orbs filled with desperation, and concern.
"What do you want?" he asked, trying to sound angry, but failing miserably.
"I… I just wanted to make sure you were okay," she replied cautiously. "You looked like you were freaking out in there."
He didn't know whether to scowl or to laugh. 'Freaking out' just wasn't a term you heard a professional psychiatrist use very often. "I'm fine, thank you. You should go back before you get in trouble, too."
She laughed slightly. "What do you mean, get in trouble?"
He looked beyond her for a moment, his eyes focusing on someone or something at the other end of the hall. She turned and followed the path of his eyes to see two men in white uniforms coming toward them.
"That's what I mean," he replied softly.
Rinoa didn't understand at first, until she noticed the needle in their hands. She shook her head. "I don't understand. You didn't cause that big of a commotion."
"It doesn't matter. I left the room without permission. That qualifies as 'uncooperative or violent behavior', which gives the nurse or doctor in charge the right to have her uncooperative or violent patient sedated, so they don't hurt themselves, or others."
"But that's bull shit. You wouldn't hurt someone else, or yourself, right?" she asked, uncertainty creeping into her voice when he refused to look her in the eyes.
"Quistis is a controlling bitch, who insists on doing everything by the book," he pointed out, "but she does have a reason for doing this."
Rinoa looked away from him, unsure of what to say. Instead, she turned her attention back to the two men that were approaching.
"Please… don't let them put that stuff in me again," she heard him say, his voice nearly inaudible, a pleading whisper. It was the first time she had ever really heard fear in his voice.
"I'll try," she whispered back, briefly taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. He didn't respond, just looked away in shame of asking for help.
Rinoa took a deep breath and strode out to meet the men before they could reach Squall. "Can I help you gentlemen?"
"We've been told to find Mr. Leonhart," one man replied.
She studied them carefully then asked, "What for?"
"We've been told to sedate him, Ms…" he squinted at her nametag, "Heartilly. Do either of you know where he's at?" he asked, looking from Rinoa, to Squall.
Rinoa struggled to hide the smirk that was threatening to break out on her face. "Seen him? No, I haven't seen anyone by that name. Neither has he. We were just heading to my office for our therapy session. We're already late, do you two mind?"
He shook his head, "No miss, please go right ahead."
Rinoa brushed passed him, Squall following closing behind her. When they were out of earshot, Rinoa started laughing. "Are those guys new here, or something?"
"They're probably from the first floor. Quistis probably called down there so they could send two of their best," he explained, then shifted nervously. "Thanks, by the way."
"It's the least I could do," she replied. "I'm sorry about yesterday."
He shook his head. "Don't be." The words 'I'm sorry' came close to spilling out, but he just couldn't bring himself to say it.
Neither was paying attention to where they were going. They were just wandering through the halls aimlessly, preoccupied with each other for the moment.
When the silence grew uncomfortable, Rinoa cleared her throat and turned to him slowly, wondering if she should ask the question haunting her mind. "Who did you hurt?"
He turned to her in surprise, not having expected such a personal question. He was silent for a long moment, trying to calm the contradicting reactions within himself.
"Why not tell her? Get it off your chest? She seems nice enough."
"No! Don't say a word, you can't trust anyone! She's trying to deceive you!"
"Tell her to mind her own damn business!"
"I would rather not talk about it," he replied after a few moments. "You should be worrying about yourself, anyway. At the rate you're going you won't have a job in a few days."
She heaved a tired sigh. "Well, making sure you're okay is more important to me than abiding by Quistis' stupid rules. Even if it means losing my job. I'm gonna have another talk with her about private sessions. Groups therapy isn't doing anything but making matters worse," as she spoke, she looked him in the eyes, making sure that he realized the sincerity of her words. "You know, you look awfully tired," she observed.
He looked away, running a hand through his hair in a nervous habit. "I have problems sleeping. I'm a light sleeper, and Zell's snoring…"
Rinoa smiled. "I'll see if I can't do something about that, too."
"Why?"
Instead of replying, she slowly reached for his hand, turning it over to see his wrist. It was just as she had suspected. She gently traced the scars with her fingers, watching with fascinated eyes, as the red marks seemed to burn thin paths over his pale skin.
"This is the first time anyone's touched you this way in… how long? Too long, don't scar her away."
"She's touching you! Make her stop!"
"Please don't do that," he murmured, gently tugging his arm away.
"So, it was yourself that you hurt," she said quietly. "I didn't think you were really the type that would hurt other people."
"Yeah, well, at least this way I'm not bothering anyone else with my own problems."
She sighed again and shook her head. "Look at it this way. When you hurt yourself, you hurt me, too."
He gave her a strange look. "Why would it matter to you?"
"Because I care about you."
"Why? Because you're obligated to? Because they pay you to?" he shot back.
"I know this may be difficult for you to understand, but not everything has a string attached to it," she answered, irritation getting the best of her. "Yes, this is in a way a professional relationship. Otherwise, it would be considered unethical. But just because of that doesn't mean I can't be your friend, too. I'm not here for the money. I'm here to help people."
"Isn't that what they all say?"
She stepped back and studied him for a moment, inwardly sulking at the realization that this man she was so attracted to could never be anything but a patient. "Maybe that's what they say. But I swear to you on my life," she began in a strong, steady voice. "I mean it."
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A/N: First off, the dialog in italics (at least they should be) are the 'voices', if you didn't understand that. I also realize that Squall may have seemed a little OOC in this at times, but keep in mind that in this situation he does have his vulnerable moments. Things also might seem a little rushed, but trust me, it's gonna be a long road.