'Xu, I need you to clear everybody out of the main hall on the first floor,
and seal it off from the students. Make sure that every entrance to it
covered and guarded, and keep it that way, until you hear directly from me
that Trabia Garden's forces have arrived. I want the whole of SeeD to hear
my opening speech before we head off into battle. There's simply nowhere
else in this Garden that's large enough to accommodate for twelve-hundred
people. Try and keep the students away from the top of the main steps, as
well, if you can. That's where I'll be standing. If I'm going to make a
speech, I want to make it to all of them.'
'Deep down, you always were the dramatic type, Squall. Are you going to need any firework displays organizing, hmm? Entrance music, perhaps?'
'Very funny. Do as I ordered immediately, Xu. You're one of the only people I always expect to pull through for me.'
'Yes, sir. I'll get on it right away.'
'Thank you.'
Squall had finally been freed from the repetitive boredom that had arisen, as expected, from his unavoidable duties of papers, conferences and handshakes. He was back where he belonged again, as the true commander and undeniable leader of Balamb Garden. He was the man in the front seat now, the driver – the pusher of the buttons and the cause of all the actions – and he was secretly enjoying it already. He had always been far too volatile, he'd figured, too swayed and distorted by passion and emotion, to sit behind a desk for a living. Debate, he still obstinately believed, was much too similar to worrying to be a good thing. It gave people something to do, but it wouldn't get them anywhere. Nowhere particularly fast, anyway. As he continued to pace over the gleaming tiles of he third-floor office, dispensing order after precious order to the many students and subordinates gathered eagerly around him, he felt that he was answering his true call from the world again. He was one of the few men bestowed with the mind, the power and the will to make a positive difference in the lives of people across the globe. This was the role, and the responsibility, that he talked about to the commanders in his closing speech. This was his true duty to the world.
'Jennifer,' he began, turning his attention towards an attractive, fair- haired teenage girl, obviously still in her first year of training at Balamb Garden, 'I need you to do something for me. I need you to alert Quistis Trepe, Zell Dincht, Selphie Tilmitt and Irvine Kinneas at once. Tell them that I'd like to speak to all of them as soon as possible.'
'Of course, sir. Where should I tell them to meet you?'
'Good question. Let's see . . . I think the empty classroom on the second floor would do nicely for us. Go now, please.'
'Yes, sir. Right away, sir.'
'Thank you, Jennifer.'
Squall sighed heavily and allowed himself a small, tired smile, before continuing the pacing of his office floor. The adding weight of exhaustion, as it combined with the initial burdens of duty and leadership, was really beginning to take its toll on his body. He yawned, loudly and deeply, and took a minute or two to slowly stretch his arms behind his back, cracking his knuckles like the air pockets of bubble wrap. More than anything else, this was to try and keep himself awake, and concentrated; to help him focus on where his attention needed to lie. This was the absolute worst time for his mind to wander, to be whisked up and swept away by the wind of idle thought. Steadily drifting through the air, oblivious, carefree, towards the other issues in his life. Issues like Rinoa.
Rinoa . . .
It was too late. His soul was already afloat. As his nerves finally began to unwind, his muscles slackened and his eyes fixed somewhere on a point buried deep into the office wall before him, Squall could almost vision her ghost unraveling in front of him. The same trailing blue cardigan, the white wings crudely daubed across each shoulder; the pale, dilated skin; the soothing brown eyes, always sparkling, dancing with emotion, whenever he gazed into their pupils; and most of all the face, set into stone in a familiar expression of frustration and irrational fury.
'Squall, do you remember the last thing I said to you before we came into this meeting?'
Yeah, Squall thought to himself, I can remember. I remember exactly what she said to me, word for word. That's how much it meant to me at the time. She said, 'I'll always be here for you, too, when you need me. You know that, don't you? Even leaders need help sometimes, Squall.'
I can remember the other things, too. I remember the fragile quiver in her voice as she spoke it, so softly, and the expression on her face, begging desperately for the answer she wanted. I guess it was frustrating for her to feel so helpless, so inert. All she could do was stand and watch as I withered slowly away in front of her. She had needed me to spill out my emotions to tell, tell her what was really playing on my mind – tell her why I was staring at my shoes when I had the strength and the pride to stare at the stars.
I suppose I should've seen it coming – she's always been that way. That's the reason why I love her so damn much. She's only ever as happy as the people standing around her. Her concern's always so genuine, and so truthful. She's never had any agenda for being the way she is; it's just in her nature.
But she didn't know about me. Not really. She didn't realize that some problems couldn't be solved that easily. They run too deeply in a person's soul, instead of merely scratching the surface, to be that easy. For me, it's already too late. Leave those problems be for so long, and before you know it, they'll have planted their roots firmly into your heart and filtered out the essence of life. They take a long time to dig up and kill. Sometimes their effects will linger forever. But I suppose I didn't help matters by trying to play the rugged, lone-wolf façade. Especially now that so much more is on the line than just my ego. I could've made things so much easier for her. Would it have hurt me so much to open up for just a second, and tell the love of my life why I was standing out there in the first place?
And now I've gone and blown it completely. I've lost her for now, and at the time when I need her most. In eight hours, I'll have an army of ruthless soldiers on the horizon, eagerly waiting to tear the screaming life out of me.
'Hey Squall, come an' take a look at this. Looks like we've got ourselves some good news, for a change.'
What if she was right all along?
No! Squall's brain quickly snapped back into focus, his anger resurfaced, his arrogance refueled. What had he been thinking!? How could he have believed that she was in the right, defying him and humiliating him in front of his commanders like that!? What had she been thinking? Couldn't she see what was happening? Couldn't she see through the thick walls of her own little bubble!? The battle lines had been drawn. SeeD was on a one-way road into darkness. Right now, a war had been born, growing, taking shape – a brutal and vicious war that could, in time, change the fates and lives of every single human being across the face of the globe. And here was Rinoa, breaking into temper tantrums and storming off to her room, like she was a silly little thirteen year old all over again, because she hadn't been allowed to be to the party!? Where was the sense in it? What had happened to the angelic, caring, good-natured Rinoa Heartilly now?
'Hey, Squall, did you hear me? Come an' take a look at this, you're gonna like what you see.'
That's it. I've had it. I can't take this. I can't bear the pressure any more. I'm sorry, guys . . . but sooner or later, I'll have totally lost it. I'm going to go mad soon if I don't get some sleep.
'Squall, are you hearin' me there?'
Just go away . . .
'Hey, Squall, what's up with you there?'
'Squall! Squall, wake up!'
Squall vision, previously clouded to a degree of blindness and oddly distant, as though he were viewing the world through an icy window, was slowly swimming back into focus. He began to blink quickly and heavily as the thin, scrawny silhouette of Nida, the young boy with whom he had passed into SeeD, began to take on a solid shape in front of him. It was a few seconds before he realized that the entire room was staring at him, mouths hanging open in bewilderment.
Squall could only manage to force a pained smile. 'Sorry, Nida,' he began, 'What was it you were telling me again?'
When the sun had fallen from grace that evening and the moon had risen, victorious, to take its throne, the air had been filled with the scent of dread and despair. That had been four hours ago. Now it was at least two 'o'clock in the morning, and things had changed. A cool and refreshing wind gently blew across Rinoa's face, and the stars, it seemed, had been breeding across the face of the sky like cells in a Petri dish. This is beautiful, she thought. So relaxed, so soothing, so calming . . . so, so beautiful. If only she had felt the same way about the things in her life.
She sighed heavily and noisily, half out of weariness and half out of pure frustration. The sad thing was, she wasn't even sure what her frustration was boiling down. It wasn't really frustration at Squall or his 'I'm-the- leader-and-it's-my-duty-to-shoulder-my-own-responsibilities' attitude, nor frustration at how he had so easily cast aside her emotions in as little time as possible, and not at all frustration at how just every opportunity to help him share his great burden seemed to fall flat on its face. It was just . . . frustration. Just that – nothing more, and nothing less. I can guarantee that nearly everybody must have felt that same burst of raw emotion at many points in their life. The same way that the blood seems to bubble just under the fragile surface of the skin; the same incurable restlessness; and the same urge to grab the nearest piece of pottery and throw it into the nearest concrete wall.
She slammed down the catch on her pinwheel (drawing blood from her hand in the process), took aim, and released the trigger. The disc sliced elegantly through the air, tracing out a perfect arc as though it were a sparkler being waved by a child. This time, her shot was perfect . . . it was great . . . it was going good . . . it was cutting it a bit . . . it missed the can that was perched on the tip of the balcony by at least a couple of feet.
'Dammit!'
It was then that she heard muffled footsteps slowly approaching from behind her.
'I was just wondering where I'd find you,' Quistis began. She had come to a stop now, as though she were afraid to take any more steps forward. She was staring at the back of Rinoa's hunched figure, waiting expectantly for an answer.
Rinoa sighed heavily for what seemed like the millionth time. It was drawing close to half past two in the morning. She had been awake now (it seemed more like a decade ago that she had opened her eyes that morning, lying ever so peacefully in his loving arms) for twenty-two hours. Her muscles and limbs were lethargic. Her eyelids were like lead. It was the worst possible scenario for her to be suddenly reeled into a tearful, heart- to-heart conversation with Quistis Trepe; a woman whose emotional spectrum might just push to include a couple of fairly uninteresting colours.
'She might just leave me alone,' Rinoa thought frantically, 'if she gets the message that I want to be alone.' Even as the idea rushed to and fro throughout her head, she knew that its chances of coming true were unlikely. Quistis had obviously gotten the notion into her head that she, Rinoa, was misguided and in desperate need of advice. If all the negative consequences that her actions will have on those around her were explained slowly, in a clear and concise matter, then everything would be nicely sorted out in time for breakfast – and if that was Quistis' outlook on the situation, then it was obviously right, of course. 'Typical Quistis,' Rinoa thought bitterly, 'Unable to relate to a hundred per cent of the human population.'
She only just managed to conjure up a weak smile in reply.
'Hey, Quisty,' she said dully, keeping her eyes firmly away from those of the instructor's. 'Shouldn't you be fast asleep and snoring by now? It's gonna be a big day for all you SeeDs tomorrow.'
Quistis sighed softly and lowered her eyes to the floor.
'Rinoa,' she said calmly, 'At least show me a friend's respect by telling me what's really on your mind. Don't try and fob me off with fake interest. Sitting out here, wallowing in your self-pity like this – you're letting yourself down, Rinoa, and letting us all down with you. This isn't what any of us want.'
Rinoa grimaced. She might have known that Quistis would have been rolling speeches about honour and duty off the tongue.
'I suppose you think I'm letting Squall down as well? Letting him down by telling him the way things are? Letting him down by trying to help him in any way I can? You SeeDs've always had a funny idea about doing what's best! I'm right, Quistis, and Squall knows it. As a friend, you should at least show me the decency of telling me that.'
Even though the two women were a fair distance apart, Rinoa could feel Quistis' whole body stiffen. The sudden coldness that her voice possessed would have frozen over a volcano.
'This isn't about who's right or wrong. It's not that simple anymore.'
Rinoa, however, hadn't been preparing to give up that easily.
'It has everything to do with it! Squall had nothing to lose by accepting my help, and everything to gain! It doesn't matter who's a SeeD and who's not, does it? We've all got the same goal here – to beat the bad guys, and save the day again! It didn't matter to him back then, in those days, that I hadn't passed some stupid field exam! Tell me, Quistis! What's changed between us since then!?'
'Nothing's changed, Rinoa. That's the point. Everything is the same that it always has been. Squall's love for you is as strong now as it was when he was prepared to give up his own life by jumping out into space – maybe even stronger still. Squall will always love you with every bit of his heart, more so than he has ever loved you before. Listen to me, Rinoa. That's why he wants to protect you. That's how much he loves you.'
'I don't need to be shut away from the real world like I'm some sort of princess! I can take care of myself! I got along fine for ages in the Forest Owls before I even met Squall!'
'That's anything but the truth, Rinoa, and you know it. You would have died a hundred times over in the Sorceress Wars if Squall hadn't always been around to save the day.'
Rinoa was suddenly silent – she was already struggling to stay level with Quistis in the argument. She (Quistis) had always managed to maintain that same confident, intimidating power over her.
'Could you really have taken care of yourself when you accidentally abducted Vinzer Deling's body double? Or when you escaped from your father's mansion and tried to suppress Matron's powers with an Odine Bangle? How about when you were left hanging off the edge of Balamb Garden, by one hand, even after Zell and Irvine had done everything that they could've to save you? Or what about the time when - ?'
'Stop it!'
Quistis stepped forward confidently, trying desperately not to look smug about the fact that she had just crushed Rinoa's flimsy arguments into the dust. Not that it had been too difficult for her. It was always only a matter of time before Rinoa's feelings took control of her. Quistis, as cunning and calculating as ever, knew this, and was so far putting her knowledge and past experiences to good use. She had known it ever since the six of them had stepped over the doormat of Caraway Mansion – ever since she had been a witness for one of Squall and Rinoa's playground squabbles. Another of life's little ironies, she thought silently – the only thing you could count on with Rinoa was her unpredictability.
'You need to stop doing this, Quistis Trepe,' she told herself sharply, 'or else it'll catch up to you sooner of later. You didn't come here to boost you own ego by making everybody else feel weak and inadequate.' This time, she definitely knew that she was right. She had gone too far by toying with Rinoa. After all, hadn't she been frantically searching for Rinoa in the past hour to comfort her restless mind, as only a good friend would know how? Hadn't she wanted to reason with her; so that the six of them could stand united, as they had been before, to fight whatever evil chose to cross their path?
'Listen, Rinoa,' she began again, slowly, 'Maybe I don't really understand what you're going through right now. I don't know what it feels like to be as close to someone as you are to Squall. And I'm not supposed to be the bossy parent around here, either. I'm your friend – that's why I came to look for you. I care about you and Squall, Rinoa, I really do. I've never tried to place a wall between the two of you and I'm not trying to now. I'll admit to you now, as a good friend, that yes, I used to be in love with Squall, but that's exactly it, Rinoa – used to be. I love the way that the two of you are so happy together, and nothing, not even my own feelings, are enough to make me try and ruin that.'
Rinoa remained silent, her tearful eyes still fixed on a distant star in the gaping void of the night sky, but Quistis didn't need her to say anything to know what she was thinking as the words left her mouth.
'What I'm trying to say, Rinoa, is that I want what's best for you and Squall. I'm asking you – no, I'm begging you, as someone who cares for you – let this go for now. Make things right with Squall. It's not worth putting everything that you care about on the line . . . just for the sake of being right.'
Quistis' plea was only rewarded with a further silence.
'Please, Rinoa. We're running out of time here. In a few hours, there won't be any turning back for you, or for Squall, either. When this Garden finally touches the ground of Timber, he'll be the first man to step onto the battlefield, and he'll be the last man off it. He made an important choice tonight. He chose to fight this battle to the death, and if I know Squall. I know he won't stray from that in the slightest. He's putting everything on the line by standing up to Massery's threat, including the lives of all his friends – for what? For the chance to fight the same battle at a different place, different time?'
'What are you trying to tell me, Quisty?'
Quistis sighed, and took an equally huge intake of breath. This was proving to be more difficult than she had thought. She had never been the type for making stirring speeches; she'd always preferred to stand in the shadows and let Squall take care of it.
'What I'm trying to say, Rinoa – very badly, I know – is that Squall has to be the most incredible man that I've ever known. And no matter how many times our words seem to bounce off him, or he shuts himself away in his quarters for hours on end, you just can't deny him that. Not when you think back to all the stupid, reckless, and above all, unselfish things that he's done for us in the past. Especially for you. He's as close as anyone can get to being a true hero. Come on – think about it, Rinoa. How long are you going to stay mad at the man who carried you all the way to Esthar on his back?'
Perhaps she wasn't going to be so bad at this at all.
'I'd like to think that I would jump into space, sacrifice myself, to save any of my friends, just like he did. But the sad truth is, I've realized that I wouldn't. I just can't bring myself round to think like that. It takes more nerve than you'd think to carelessly throw your own life onto the table when there's only a shadow of a chance that you'll win back somebody else's. I think that we've learnt more about Squall through that memory than all of our others put together. It goes to show that no one can hide the good in him, not even himself. Sure, I'll admit he can be – well, difficult – now and then, but I still can't remember a time when he's acted without having . . . good intentions. Surely that deserves our support?'
It was only now that the ball was definitely on her side of the court that Rinoa chose to answer. She was still leant defiantly against the furthest wall from the five hundred foot drop into the ocean, with her arms and legs folded like a sulking child, but she finally seemed to have gotten a firm drip on her emotions. Or, at least, Quistis thought so. When she finally began to speak, her voice was clear and steady, and showed no signs of suddenly rising uncontrollably.
'I know you're right, Quisty. I do, I really do. I know how lucky I am to have Squall around to save the day for me all the time. He's done ten times more for me than I'd ever expect, and thirty times more than I'd dare to ask for.'
There was another brief silence as Rinoa quickly ran through in her head what she was about to say.
'But that still doesn't make him right! And it doesn't give him the right to just cast me aside! We can't just ignore the things that someone does wrong, just because of what's happened in the past, or how good they've been to us! Just because Squall's been such a hero for all of us doesn't . . . it doesn't give him the right to do what he wants!'
'I agree. Thinking like that wouldn't get us anywhere. No one has the right to walk over us.'
'So then why should he have the right to do it to me? Why should I just forgive him that easily? Because he chose to go up against the whole of Esthar for me?'
'No, Rinoa,' Quistis replied calmly. 'Because this isn't the time to be worrying about who's right, and who's not. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Squall's trying his best right now to prepare twelve hundred men for a battle that he ordered them into. Half of them might well not make it back. 'How can somebody choose to do that?' you might ask. 'How can somebody possibly order six hundred men to go out and die for you on the battlefield and still keep their pulse rate at normal?' How would you feel, if it came down to it, and that was what you had to do?'
'I-'
Rinoa stuttered, suddenly paralysed by Quistis' tactful question. Her eyes began to fill with shock, a nameless fear, as she perhaps realized for the first time that evening what Squall was really going up against in the name of justice. 'I'd – I'd feel terrible,' she answered finally. 'I'd feel worse than terrible. I'd feel like I'd betrayed them, like I'd cheated them out of their lives. I'd feel like nothing more than . . . than a murderer.'
Quistis nodded her head in agreement. 'I know,' she nodded gravely. 'I'd feel exactly the same way. Anybody with an ounce of good in them would.'
Another brief interval of silence passed between the two women.
'There's not a moment that goes by that Squall doesn't question the decision he made. It was a tough decision to have to make – there were only two outcomes to choose from, and both of them would've had to be paid for in blood. I wouldn't wish choices like that on anybody I know – anybody I've ever known, come to it. Well, maybe one or two . . . but that's not the point. The point is – it takes a real man to pull through something like that. Especially when he knows his closest friends are starting to doubt his choices behind his back. When he knows that the people who'll die for him in the streets of Timber tomorrow are the ones that he's known for most of his life. The nervous ones that he stood beside at the Garden entrance, on his first day here. The giggling ones who threw paper airplanes at him in the back row of junior class. The proud ones that he stood in line with, when Headmaster Cid first congratulated them all on passing into SeeD. Could you name anyone else with the stomach to do that?'
'I guess not.'
Quistis smiled comfortingly at Rinoa's downcast expression. She even went as far as kneeling down beside her and placing one slender, gloved hand onto one of hers, squeezing it reassuringly, like a nursery teacher would do to a sobbing child with battered knees. And just like that, in an instant, it seemed as though all of the bad memories that existed between the two young women – all of the harsh words, the condescending remarks, the lost and stolen loves – had been effortlessly picked up and carried away by the wind. All the differences in personality, or opinion, or lifestyle, or belief, suddenly didn't seem to matter, or even exist, to either of them – nor did the harsher facts of life that Quistis was an accomplished, merited and successful SeeD instructor, while Rinoa hadn't even been able to get halfway through the written exam, or that Rinoa was deeply loved and cherished by a man who's affections Quistis had spent countless years of her young life trying desperately to win. None of it mattered any more. For they were no longer Instructor Quistis Trepe and the future Mrs. Squall Leonhart, but just two little women – just Quistis and Rinoa – holding hands under the eternity of the night sky.
It was Rinoa who chose to break the silence first.
'. . . Okay.'
Quistis quickly came back to reality. She removed her hand from where it rested on Rinoa's and sat down, cross-legged, beside her, suddenly all ears to whatever Rinoa had to say. Could it be that Rinoa Heartilly, the wild card of Balamb Garden's elite six, was finally beginning to show a little sense?
'Hmm?'
'I said okay. I'll do it. I'll make up with Squall.'
Rinoa slowly turned her head towards Quistis', replying to her inquisitive gaze with one of utter seriousness. It took a couple of seconds for Quistis to carefully scan the fixed expression on her face, as though her eyes were capable of using infra-red radiation to detect the presence of unstable emotions, before she realized that Rinoa wasn't about to change her mind again so easily. There were no signs of suppressed anger in her eyes, or in the faint lines running across her face; no pent-up, bubbling feelings of insecurity or jealousness that usually caused the unbalanced arguments to begin tumbling out of Rinoa's mouth like sewage from a drain-pipe.
Quistis was secretly ecstatic.
'Are you being serious!? Rinoa, I'm so –'
Rinoa quickly shot her a look – a look that said there was more to come. Quistis dutifully fell silent.
'I'll make up with him . . . for now. I don't know why I've been so stupid, Quisty! I should've listened to you earlier – you were right, you know. It doesn't matter about who's right and wrong anymore. All that matters is that Squall's got a battle to fight. And what I want, more than anything, is for him to get out alive. So if making up with him's gonna help him do that . . . then I'll do it. It's what's best for everyone that counts. Not just me.'
'Rinoa, I'm – I'm just glad that that's what you want to do.'
'Hold on, Quisty. Don't think that I'll let this one go so easily. Sure, Squall's gonna have me behind him for now. All he's got to worry about now is taking down Aifel Massery. But don't think he's gonna get away with it. When the battle's over, and when he's back on Garden, safe-and-sound – I guess I'll give him a bit of time to rest first – he'll have me to deal with. Beating the G-Army's going to seem like a walk in the park for him. He was wrong, and I'll let him get away with it for now, but I won't let this one lie. You definitely have my word on that.'
Quistis allowed herself to flash a small smile at her friend. 'Don't worry, Rinoa,' she replied. 'I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm just glad everything's finally worked out the way – the way that it should be.'
Rinoa slowly got to her feet, her sky-blue cardigan once again beginning to swing playfully around her ankles. She blushed slightly; perhaps embarrassed with herself over her previous bout of naivety, or maybe she was just overwhelmed with the fact that all of the jigsaw pieces had suddenly fitted comfortably into place. She placed her left hand onto Quistis' shoulder.
'You've been a good friend to me, Quisty,' she smiled in reply, 'even when I haven't done the same for you.' She smiled again. 'I guess I can only make it up to you by . . . giving you some advice of my own.'
Behind her porcelain face, Quistis was slightly uneasy. 'What is it?'
Rinoa's smile was even wider. 'Promise me that you'll kick some serious Galbadian ass.'
'Deep down, you always were the dramatic type, Squall. Are you going to need any firework displays organizing, hmm? Entrance music, perhaps?'
'Very funny. Do as I ordered immediately, Xu. You're one of the only people I always expect to pull through for me.'
'Yes, sir. I'll get on it right away.'
'Thank you.'
Squall had finally been freed from the repetitive boredom that had arisen, as expected, from his unavoidable duties of papers, conferences and handshakes. He was back where he belonged again, as the true commander and undeniable leader of Balamb Garden. He was the man in the front seat now, the driver – the pusher of the buttons and the cause of all the actions – and he was secretly enjoying it already. He had always been far too volatile, he'd figured, too swayed and distorted by passion and emotion, to sit behind a desk for a living. Debate, he still obstinately believed, was much too similar to worrying to be a good thing. It gave people something to do, but it wouldn't get them anywhere. Nowhere particularly fast, anyway. As he continued to pace over the gleaming tiles of he third-floor office, dispensing order after precious order to the many students and subordinates gathered eagerly around him, he felt that he was answering his true call from the world again. He was one of the few men bestowed with the mind, the power and the will to make a positive difference in the lives of people across the globe. This was the role, and the responsibility, that he talked about to the commanders in his closing speech. This was his true duty to the world.
'Jennifer,' he began, turning his attention towards an attractive, fair- haired teenage girl, obviously still in her first year of training at Balamb Garden, 'I need you to do something for me. I need you to alert Quistis Trepe, Zell Dincht, Selphie Tilmitt and Irvine Kinneas at once. Tell them that I'd like to speak to all of them as soon as possible.'
'Of course, sir. Where should I tell them to meet you?'
'Good question. Let's see . . . I think the empty classroom on the second floor would do nicely for us. Go now, please.'
'Yes, sir. Right away, sir.'
'Thank you, Jennifer.'
Squall sighed heavily and allowed himself a small, tired smile, before continuing the pacing of his office floor. The adding weight of exhaustion, as it combined with the initial burdens of duty and leadership, was really beginning to take its toll on his body. He yawned, loudly and deeply, and took a minute or two to slowly stretch his arms behind his back, cracking his knuckles like the air pockets of bubble wrap. More than anything else, this was to try and keep himself awake, and concentrated; to help him focus on where his attention needed to lie. This was the absolute worst time for his mind to wander, to be whisked up and swept away by the wind of idle thought. Steadily drifting through the air, oblivious, carefree, towards the other issues in his life. Issues like Rinoa.
Rinoa . . .
It was too late. His soul was already afloat. As his nerves finally began to unwind, his muscles slackened and his eyes fixed somewhere on a point buried deep into the office wall before him, Squall could almost vision her ghost unraveling in front of him. The same trailing blue cardigan, the white wings crudely daubed across each shoulder; the pale, dilated skin; the soothing brown eyes, always sparkling, dancing with emotion, whenever he gazed into their pupils; and most of all the face, set into stone in a familiar expression of frustration and irrational fury.
'Squall, do you remember the last thing I said to you before we came into this meeting?'
Yeah, Squall thought to himself, I can remember. I remember exactly what she said to me, word for word. That's how much it meant to me at the time. She said, 'I'll always be here for you, too, when you need me. You know that, don't you? Even leaders need help sometimes, Squall.'
I can remember the other things, too. I remember the fragile quiver in her voice as she spoke it, so softly, and the expression on her face, begging desperately for the answer she wanted. I guess it was frustrating for her to feel so helpless, so inert. All she could do was stand and watch as I withered slowly away in front of her. She had needed me to spill out my emotions to tell, tell her what was really playing on my mind – tell her why I was staring at my shoes when I had the strength and the pride to stare at the stars.
I suppose I should've seen it coming – she's always been that way. That's the reason why I love her so damn much. She's only ever as happy as the people standing around her. Her concern's always so genuine, and so truthful. She's never had any agenda for being the way she is; it's just in her nature.
But she didn't know about me. Not really. She didn't realize that some problems couldn't be solved that easily. They run too deeply in a person's soul, instead of merely scratching the surface, to be that easy. For me, it's already too late. Leave those problems be for so long, and before you know it, they'll have planted their roots firmly into your heart and filtered out the essence of life. They take a long time to dig up and kill. Sometimes their effects will linger forever. But I suppose I didn't help matters by trying to play the rugged, lone-wolf façade. Especially now that so much more is on the line than just my ego. I could've made things so much easier for her. Would it have hurt me so much to open up for just a second, and tell the love of my life why I was standing out there in the first place?
And now I've gone and blown it completely. I've lost her for now, and at the time when I need her most. In eight hours, I'll have an army of ruthless soldiers on the horizon, eagerly waiting to tear the screaming life out of me.
'Hey Squall, come an' take a look at this. Looks like we've got ourselves some good news, for a change.'
What if she was right all along?
No! Squall's brain quickly snapped back into focus, his anger resurfaced, his arrogance refueled. What had he been thinking!? How could he have believed that she was in the right, defying him and humiliating him in front of his commanders like that!? What had she been thinking? Couldn't she see what was happening? Couldn't she see through the thick walls of her own little bubble!? The battle lines had been drawn. SeeD was on a one-way road into darkness. Right now, a war had been born, growing, taking shape – a brutal and vicious war that could, in time, change the fates and lives of every single human being across the face of the globe. And here was Rinoa, breaking into temper tantrums and storming off to her room, like she was a silly little thirteen year old all over again, because she hadn't been allowed to be to the party!? Where was the sense in it? What had happened to the angelic, caring, good-natured Rinoa Heartilly now?
'Hey, Squall, did you hear me? Come an' take a look at this, you're gonna like what you see.'
That's it. I've had it. I can't take this. I can't bear the pressure any more. I'm sorry, guys . . . but sooner or later, I'll have totally lost it. I'm going to go mad soon if I don't get some sleep.
'Squall, are you hearin' me there?'
Just go away . . .
'Hey, Squall, what's up with you there?'
'Squall! Squall, wake up!'
Squall vision, previously clouded to a degree of blindness and oddly distant, as though he were viewing the world through an icy window, was slowly swimming back into focus. He began to blink quickly and heavily as the thin, scrawny silhouette of Nida, the young boy with whom he had passed into SeeD, began to take on a solid shape in front of him. It was a few seconds before he realized that the entire room was staring at him, mouths hanging open in bewilderment.
Squall could only manage to force a pained smile. 'Sorry, Nida,' he began, 'What was it you were telling me again?'
When the sun had fallen from grace that evening and the moon had risen, victorious, to take its throne, the air had been filled with the scent of dread and despair. That had been four hours ago. Now it was at least two 'o'clock in the morning, and things had changed. A cool and refreshing wind gently blew across Rinoa's face, and the stars, it seemed, had been breeding across the face of the sky like cells in a Petri dish. This is beautiful, she thought. So relaxed, so soothing, so calming . . . so, so beautiful. If only she had felt the same way about the things in her life.
She sighed heavily and noisily, half out of weariness and half out of pure frustration. The sad thing was, she wasn't even sure what her frustration was boiling down. It wasn't really frustration at Squall or his 'I'm-the- leader-and-it's-my-duty-to-shoulder-my-own-responsibilities' attitude, nor frustration at how he had so easily cast aside her emotions in as little time as possible, and not at all frustration at how just every opportunity to help him share his great burden seemed to fall flat on its face. It was just . . . frustration. Just that – nothing more, and nothing less. I can guarantee that nearly everybody must have felt that same burst of raw emotion at many points in their life. The same way that the blood seems to bubble just under the fragile surface of the skin; the same incurable restlessness; and the same urge to grab the nearest piece of pottery and throw it into the nearest concrete wall.
She slammed down the catch on her pinwheel (drawing blood from her hand in the process), took aim, and released the trigger. The disc sliced elegantly through the air, tracing out a perfect arc as though it were a sparkler being waved by a child. This time, her shot was perfect . . . it was great . . . it was going good . . . it was cutting it a bit . . . it missed the can that was perched on the tip of the balcony by at least a couple of feet.
'Dammit!'
It was then that she heard muffled footsteps slowly approaching from behind her.
'I was just wondering where I'd find you,' Quistis began. She had come to a stop now, as though she were afraid to take any more steps forward. She was staring at the back of Rinoa's hunched figure, waiting expectantly for an answer.
Rinoa sighed heavily for what seemed like the millionth time. It was drawing close to half past two in the morning. She had been awake now (it seemed more like a decade ago that she had opened her eyes that morning, lying ever so peacefully in his loving arms) for twenty-two hours. Her muscles and limbs were lethargic. Her eyelids were like lead. It was the worst possible scenario for her to be suddenly reeled into a tearful, heart- to-heart conversation with Quistis Trepe; a woman whose emotional spectrum might just push to include a couple of fairly uninteresting colours.
'She might just leave me alone,' Rinoa thought frantically, 'if she gets the message that I want to be alone.' Even as the idea rushed to and fro throughout her head, she knew that its chances of coming true were unlikely. Quistis had obviously gotten the notion into her head that she, Rinoa, was misguided and in desperate need of advice. If all the negative consequences that her actions will have on those around her were explained slowly, in a clear and concise matter, then everything would be nicely sorted out in time for breakfast – and if that was Quistis' outlook on the situation, then it was obviously right, of course. 'Typical Quistis,' Rinoa thought bitterly, 'Unable to relate to a hundred per cent of the human population.'
She only just managed to conjure up a weak smile in reply.
'Hey, Quisty,' she said dully, keeping her eyes firmly away from those of the instructor's. 'Shouldn't you be fast asleep and snoring by now? It's gonna be a big day for all you SeeDs tomorrow.'
Quistis sighed softly and lowered her eyes to the floor.
'Rinoa,' she said calmly, 'At least show me a friend's respect by telling me what's really on your mind. Don't try and fob me off with fake interest. Sitting out here, wallowing in your self-pity like this – you're letting yourself down, Rinoa, and letting us all down with you. This isn't what any of us want.'
Rinoa grimaced. She might have known that Quistis would have been rolling speeches about honour and duty off the tongue.
'I suppose you think I'm letting Squall down as well? Letting him down by telling him the way things are? Letting him down by trying to help him in any way I can? You SeeDs've always had a funny idea about doing what's best! I'm right, Quistis, and Squall knows it. As a friend, you should at least show me the decency of telling me that.'
Even though the two women were a fair distance apart, Rinoa could feel Quistis' whole body stiffen. The sudden coldness that her voice possessed would have frozen over a volcano.
'This isn't about who's right or wrong. It's not that simple anymore.'
Rinoa, however, hadn't been preparing to give up that easily.
'It has everything to do with it! Squall had nothing to lose by accepting my help, and everything to gain! It doesn't matter who's a SeeD and who's not, does it? We've all got the same goal here – to beat the bad guys, and save the day again! It didn't matter to him back then, in those days, that I hadn't passed some stupid field exam! Tell me, Quistis! What's changed between us since then!?'
'Nothing's changed, Rinoa. That's the point. Everything is the same that it always has been. Squall's love for you is as strong now as it was when he was prepared to give up his own life by jumping out into space – maybe even stronger still. Squall will always love you with every bit of his heart, more so than he has ever loved you before. Listen to me, Rinoa. That's why he wants to protect you. That's how much he loves you.'
'I don't need to be shut away from the real world like I'm some sort of princess! I can take care of myself! I got along fine for ages in the Forest Owls before I even met Squall!'
'That's anything but the truth, Rinoa, and you know it. You would have died a hundred times over in the Sorceress Wars if Squall hadn't always been around to save the day.'
Rinoa was suddenly silent – she was already struggling to stay level with Quistis in the argument. She (Quistis) had always managed to maintain that same confident, intimidating power over her.
'Could you really have taken care of yourself when you accidentally abducted Vinzer Deling's body double? Or when you escaped from your father's mansion and tried to suppress Matron's powers with an Odine Bangle? How about when you were left hanging off the edge of Balamb Garden, by one hand, even after Zell and Irvine had done everything that they could've to save you? Or what about the time when - ?'
'Stop it!'
Quistis stepped forward confidently, trying desperately not to look smug about the fact that she had just crushed Rinoa's flimsy arguments into the dust. Not that it had been too difficult for her. It was always only a matter of time before Rinoa's feelings took control of her. Quistis, as cunning and calculating as ever, knew this, and was so far putting her knowledge and past experiences to good use. She had known it ever since the six of them had stepped over the doormat of Caraway Mansion – ever since she had been a witness for one of Squall and Rinoa's playground squabbles. Another of life's little ironies, she thought silently – the only thing you could count on with Rinoa was her unpredictability.
'You need to stop doing this, Quistis Trepe,' she told herself sharply, 'or else it'll catch up to you sooner of later. You didn't come here to boost you own ego by making everybody else feel weak and inadequate.' This time, she definitely knew that she was right. She had gone too far by toying with Rinoa. After all, hadn't she been frantically searching for Rinoa in the past hour to comfort her restless mind, as only a good friend would know how? Hadn't she wanted to reason with her; so that the six of them could stand united, as they had been before, to fight whatever evil chose to cross their path?
'Listen, Rinoa,' she began again, slowly, 'Maybe I don't really understand what you're going through right now. I don't know what it feels like to be as close to someone as you are to Squall. And I'm not supposed to be the bossy parent around here, either. I'm your friend – that's why I came to look for you. I care about you and Squall, Rinoa, I really do. I've never tried to place a wall between the two of you and I'm not trying to now. I'll admit to you now, as a good friend, that yes, I used to be in love with Squall, but that's exactly it, Rinoa – used to be. I love the way that the two of you are so happy together, and nothing, not even my own feelings, are enough to make me try and ruin that.'
Rinoa remained silent, her tearful eyes still fixed on a distant star in the gaping void of the night sky, but Quistis didn't need her to say anything to know what she was thinking as the words left her mouth.
'What I'm trying to say, Rinoa, is that I want what's best for you and Squall. I'm asking you – no, I'm begging you, as someone who cares for you – let this go for now. Make things right with Squall. It's not worth putting everything that you care about on the line . . . just for the sake of being right.'
Quistis' plea was only rewarded with a further silence.
'Please, Rinoa. We're running out of time here. In a few hours, there won't be any turning back for you, or for Squall, either. When this Garden finally touches the ground of Timber, he'll be the first man to step onto the battlefield, and he'll be the last man off it. He made an important choice tonight. He chose to fight this battle to the death, and if I know Squall. I know he won't stray from that in the slightest. He's putting everything on the line by standing up to Massery's threat, including the lives of all his friends – for what? For the chance to fight the same battle at a different place, different time?'
'What are you trying to tell me, Quisty?'
Quistis sighed, and took an equally huge intake of breath. This was proving to be more difficult than she had thought. She had never been the type for making stirring speeches; she'd always preferred to stand in the shadows and let Squall take care of it.
'What I'm trying to say, Rinoa – very badly, I know – is that Squall has to be the most incredible man that I've ever known. And no matter how many times our words seem to bounce off him, or he shuts himself away in his quarters for hours on end, you just can't deny him that. Not when you think back to all the stupid, reckless, and above all, unselfish things that he's done for us in the past. Especially for you. He's as close as anyone can get to being a true hero. Come on – think about it, Rinoa. How long are you going to stay mad at the man who carried you all the way to Esthar on his back?'
Perhaps she wasn't going to be so bad at this at all.
'I'd like to think that I would jump into space, sacrifice myself, to save any of my friends, just like he did. But the sad truth is, I've realized that I wouldn't. I just can't bring myself round to think like that. It takes more nerve than you'd think to carelessly throw your own life onto the table when there's only a shadow of a chance that you'll win back somebody else's. I think that we've learnt more about Squall through that memory than all of our others put together. It goes to show that no one can hide the good in him, not even himself. Sure, I'll admit he can be – well, difficult – now and then, but I still can't remember a time when he's acted without having . . . good intentions. Surely that deserves our support?'
It was only now that the ball was definitely on her side of the court that Rinoa chose to answer. She was still leant defiantly against the furthest wall from the five hundred foot drop into the ocean, with her arms and legs folded like a sulking child, but she finally seemed to have gotten a firm drip on her emotions. Or, at least, Quistis thought so. When she finally began to speak, her voice was clear and steady, and showed no signs of suddenly rising uncontrollably.
'I know you're right, Quisty. I do, I really do. I know how lucky I am to have Squall around to save the day for me all the time. He's done ten times more for me than I'd ever expect, and thirty times more than I'd dare to ask for.'
There was another brief silence as Rinoa quickly ran through in her head what she was about to say.
'But that still doesn't make him right! And it doesn't give him the right to just cast me aside! We can't just ignore the things that someone does wrong, just because of what's happened in the past, or how good they've been to us! Just because Squall's been such a hero for all of us doesn't . . . it doesn't give him the right to do what he wants!'
'I agree. Thinking like that wouldn't get us anywhere. No one has the right to walk over us.'
'So then why should he have the right to do it to me? Why should I just forgive him that easily? Because he chose to go up against the whole of Esthar for me?'
'No, Rinoa,' Quistis replied calmly. 'Because this isn't the time to be worrying about who's right, and who's not. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Squall's trying his best right now to prepare twelve hundred men for a battle that he ordered them into. Half of them might well not make it back. 'How can somebody choose to do that?' you might ask. 'How can somebody possibly order six hundred men to go out and die for you on the battlefield and still keep their pulse rate at normal?' How would you feel, if it came down to it, and that was what you had to do?'
'I-'
Rinoa stuttered, suddenly paralysed by Quistis' tactful question. Her eyes began to fill with shock, a nameless fear, as she perhaps realized for the first time that evening what Squall was really going up against in the name of justice. 'I'd – I'd feel terrible,' she answered finally. 'I'd feel worse than terrible. I'd feel like I'd betrayed them, like I'd cheated them out of their lives. I'd feel like nothing more than . . . than a murderer.'
Quistis nodded her head in agreement. 'I know,' she nodded gravely. 'I'd feel exactly the same way. Anybody with an ounce of good in them would.'
Another brief interval of silence passed between the two women.
'There's not a moment that goes by that Squall doesn't question the decision he made. It was a tough decision to have to make – there were only two outcomes to choose from, and both of them would've had to be paid for in blood. I wouldn't wish choices like that on anybody I know – anybody I've ever known, come to it. Well, maybe one or two . . . but that's not the point. The point is – it takes a real man to pull through something like that. Especially when he knows his closest friends are starting to doubt his choices behind his back. When he knows that the people who'll die for him in the streets of Timber tomorrow are the ones that he's known for most of his life. The nervous ones that he stood beside at the Garden entrance, on his first day here. The giggling ones who threw paper airplanes at him in the back row of junior class. The proud ones that he stood in line with, when Headmaster Cid first congratulated them all on passing into SeeD. Could you name anyone else with the stomach to do that?'
'I guess not.'
Quistis smiled comfortingly at Rinoa's downcast expression. She even went as far as kneeling down beside her and placing one slender, gloved hand onto one of hers, squeezing it reassuringly, like a nursery teacher would do to a sobbing child with battered knees. And just like that, in an instant, it seemed as though all of the bad memories that existed between the two young women – all of the harsh words, the condescending remarks, the lost and stolen loves – had been effortlessly picked up and carried away by the wind. All the differences in personality, or opinion, or lifestyle, or belief, suddenly didn't seem to matter, or even exist, to either of them – nor did the harsher facts of life that Quistis was an accomplished, merited and successful SeeD instructor, while Rinoa hadn't even been able to get halfway through the written exam, or that Rinoa was deeply loved and cherished by a man who's affections Quistis had spent countless years of her young life trying desperately to win. None of it mattered any more. For they were no longer Instructor Quistis Trepe and the future Mrs. Squall Leonhart, but just two little women – just Quistis and Rinoa – holding hands under the eternity of the night sky.
It was Rinoa who chose to break the silence first.
'. . . Okay.'
Quistis quickly came back to reality. She removed her hand from where it rested on Rinoa's and sat down, cross-legged, beside her, suddenly all ears to whatever Rinoa had to say. Could it be that Rinoa Heartilly, the wild card of Balamb Garden's elite six, was finally beginning to show a little sense?
'Hmm?'
'I said okay. I'll do it. I'll make up with Squall.'
Rinoa slowly turned her head towards Quistis', replying to her inquisitive gaze with one of utter seriousness. It took a couple of seconds for Quistis to carefully scan the fixed expression on her face, as though her eyes were capable of using infra-red radiation to detect the presence of unstable emotions, before she realized that Rinoa wasn't about to change her mind again so easily. There were no signs of suppressed anger in her eyes, or in the faint lines running across her face; no pent-up, bubbling feelings of insecurity or jealousness that usually caused the unbalanced arguments to begin tumbling out of Rinoa's mouth like sewage from a drain-pipe.
Quistis was secretly ecstatic.
'Are you being serious!? Rinoa, I'm so –'
Rinoa quickly shot her a look – a look that said there was more to come. Quistis dutifully fell silent.
'I'll make up with him . . . for now. I don't know why I've been so stupid, Quisty! I should've listened to you earlier – you were right, you know. It doesn't matter about who's right and wrong anymore. All that matters is that Squall's got a battle to fight. And what I want, more than anything, is for him to get out alive. So if making up with him's gonna help him do that . . . then I'll do it. It's what's best for everyone that counts. Not just me.'
'Rinoa, I'm – I'm just glad that that's what you want to do.'
'Hold on, Quisty. Don't think that I'll let this one go so easily. Sure, Squall's gonna have me behind him for now. All he's got to worry about now is taking down Aifel Massery. But don't think he's gonna get away with it. When the battle's over, and when he's back on Garden, safe-and-sound – I guess I'll give him a bit of time to rest first – he'll have me to deal with. Beating the G-Army's going to seem like a walk in the park for him. He was wrong, and I'll let him get away with it for now, but I won't let this one lie. You definitely have my word on that.'
Quistis allowed herself to flash a small smile at her friend. 'Don't worry, Rinoa,' she replied. 'I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm just glad everything's finally worked out the way – the way that it should be.'
Rinoa slowly got to her feet, her sky-blue cardigan once again beginning to swing playfully around her ankles. She blushed slightly; perhaps embarrassed with herself over her previous bout of naivety, or maybe she was just overwhelmed with the fact that all of the jigsaw pieces had suddenly fitted comfortably into place. She placed her left hand onto Quistis' shoulder.
'You've been a good friend to me, Quisty,' she smiled in reply, 'even when I haven't done the same for you.' She smiled again. 'I guess I can only make it up to you by . . . giving you some advice of my own.'
Behind her porcelain face, Quistis was slightly uneasy. 'What is it?'
Rinoa's smile was even wider. 'Promise me that you'll kick some serious Galbadian ass.'