Session 7: An Elegy for Innocence
Self-loathing. It was a heavy, depressing, all consuming emotion that ate at you from the inside until you were saturated with hatred, guilt, and disappointment, all aimed at yourself. It was one of those things that evaded all sense of reasoning. Of course you were to blame. If you weren't, why would you feel this way? The thought of hating herself was disturbing, but at the moment, it could not be denied. Rinoa Heartilly was in a state of extreme self-loathing.
She sat on the steps outside the hotel that she had checked into for the night, glaring up at the stars where the cause of all her problems would soon escape. She was so caught up in her mental berating that she didn't notice the chilly evening air closing in on her bare skin, or even the people coming in and out of the glass doors leading to the lobby. After quite some time, however, she did become slightly aware of a pair of eyes burning into her back.
"Can I bum a smoke?"
The hair at the back of her neck seemed to defy gravity at that moment, and she had the impossible feeling that she'd just been spoken to by the devil himself. She peeked over her exposed shoulder, toward the shadows that had called to her. A glowing red circle burned to life for a brief moment, before swirls of smoke wafted upon the breeze and danced in the dim streetlights.
"You already have one," she replied quietly.
"It's my last one."
"I don't smoke, sorry."
With that she turned away in hopes that he would let her alone. The scuffling of shoes behind her filled her with hope that he would go inside, but as the scraping sound cut short she realized he was just shifting his weight.
"You shouldn't be out here with nothing to protect you... from the cold."
"I don't feel it," she answered shortly, the burning dread in the pit of her stomach increasing. She wanted to stand up and flee to the safety of the well-lit lobby herself now, but she could simply not will herself to move past him.
He grunted in reply, stomping his cigarette out. The frosted glass door flew open, flooding the darkened street with temporary light before it fell closed once more. She breathed a sigh of relief, vowing to herself that she wouldn't sit around out in the street anymore. Her self-congratulatory monologue was cut short by the feeling of cold steel trailing down her neck...
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Black, soulless pools stared up into the heavens, the dark void sky stretching out like a reflection to her eyes. It was dismal and bleak, this view of the city that towered beyond the window... It suited her perfectly.
A small smile briefly flickered over her face as a pair of long, muscled arms slid around her waist from behind. His lips pressed into her paradise-colored curls and she could feel his own serene little smile there.
"Maybe if you squint hard enough, you can see the stars."
She stroked his arm with long, spindly fingers, the crimson paint at the tips a stark contrast upon his pale flesh. "I'll see them often enough on the trip," she replied, her smooth, confident voice ringing melodically in his ear. "Edea insists that Vicious take her puppet around to all the major bases, and of course Vicious wants me to come along."
"Julia..." he murmured, tightening his hold on her. "Just saying your name makes me happy, you know. It brings nothing but good memories to me."
She chuckled slightly. "Should I worry that I remind you of your mother?"
"No, no. Only the name is the same. The feelings are completely different..." he was silent for a moment, letting the momentary levity slip away before he spoke again. "We could always run away together."
She pressed her hand to the glass, as if reaching for the outside world, only to be held back by the transparent barrier. "There's nowhere we can go that they won't follow. Vicious has that kind of power, and he won't hesitate to use it."
"So let him come," he whispered back. "We'll fly from place to place like birds, we'll be completely free with nothing to worry about but ourselves. We'll break the chains that keep us bound to this life... it'll be... just like watching a dream."
"Just like a dream," she repeated, her face lighting up with a smile for the first time. "A dream that you never have to wake up from..."
She stared up at the sky once more and squinted her eyes. There, against the black impenetrable canopy that blanketed the sky, she could barely see a few, scattered dots of sparkling light...
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"What kind of dumb ass goes out without a spare fuel rod, anyway?"
Spike turned a baleful glare in the direction of the whining young woman who sat studying her nails in the seat next to him. The memory that had floated through his brain, brought forward by the entrancing stars that surrounded him, vanished at her words. "Lin was supposed to have the ship ready for travel," he said finally. " I had a feeling Volaju would run. If you wanna complain to him about it, that's fine, but I don't wanna hear it anymore!"
She looked up at him, emerald eyes shining in amusement. "Only an amateur would blindly trust someone else to take care of his ship. For all you known, Lin purposely fixed it so that we would be stranded here. For all you know, he could be planning a coup right about now."
"Not all of us have trust issues, shrew."
Faye didn't hesitate to smack him over the head one good time. "Yeah right, Mr. High-and-Mighty. You trust the people you work with... you trust those people to get the job done, because they know what could happen to them if they don't. But you don't trust people on a personal level."
"What business is that of yours?"
She leaned her head against the window and crossed her arms over her chest in thought. "It's not my business. It's just an observation. It must be awfully lonely to live the way you do."
"And it must be awfully lonely being a heartless shrew of a slut," he replied coolly.
"Go to hell, Spiegel," she spat out.
"What, no better come-back from the shrew-queen? Or is it princess? Your mother must be the queen."
Faye said nothing, but when he looked over at her, she was staring out the window, her back turned to him as best as she could manage in the cramped space. Her silence made him increasingly uneasy, until he finally said, "What, you can't even defend your own mother?"
Her shoulders went rigid against his dual-toned stare. "I don't remember..." she cut herself off with an annoyed sigh. "Never mind that. It's none of you damn business. Just leave me the hell alone."
For a long moment he could only stare at her in surprise at her sudden lack of spirit, until, with a sigh of his own, he leaned back in the seat, and began to quietly count away the minutes.
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Hardly anyone had spoken a word to him since he'd come back to the ship alone. Not even Ed, and that was certainly saying something. When he'd stepped into the door, Jet had been sitting on the worn yellow sofa, waiting for him. The older man had turned so that one dark eye was glaring over his shoulder.
"Bounty?" he'd inquired.
"Lost it."
It had seemed at first that Jet was going to ask him another question, but after a moment of visible debate, he'd turned back around and continued to watch the black and white spaghetti Western on the small monitor of the computer, which had recently been dubbed 'Tomato' by Edward.
They were all gathered in the living room now, seated around Tomato and watching for new bounties. At least Jet and Zell were. Squall, sitting off to himself in the busted canary-colored chair had tuned the annoying program out, focusing instead on the steady hum of the ship and the silence that invaded the air. He had lived on the Bebop for two years with nothing to listen to but the rare arguments of his companions and the buzzing of the old, renovated fishing ship as it struggled through space. Yet only a week of having that troublesome girl around had gotten him used to the cheery conversation and friendly banter that seemed to follow her. Odd how merely her presence had seemed to put everyone in a better mood... except for himself, of course.
"Did you hear that?" Jet demanded from his seat on the couch. "Yenrai's been spotted near Europa."
"I went after him last night," Squall protested. Seeing Yenrai again would only remind him of that woman.
"Yeah, and you lost him last night. Since that makes three bounties that you've lost-"
"Two."
"Three," Jet repeated, "then you'll go after him again tomorrow. If you don't like it, tough!"
"Fine," the younger man grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. "You can wake me up when we get there."
Once he was out of earshot, Zell shook his head. "Is it possible that he's even more grumpy now than before?"
Jet turned to the young boy and grinned. "I think he just misses his woman."
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There was no one to scream for. That thought echoed in her mind repeatedly as the blackness of space rushed past her. He hadn't bothered to place any sort of gag in her mouth, and she realized why. He was the only person there, and even if he wasn't who would care that she was being hauled off to some unimaginably horrible fate? She thought briefly of her knight in shining black leather. After all those times he'd gone out of his way to save her, he suddenly decides to just walk away and leave her, as though she were nothing more than some kind of unwanted dog you abandoned in the street. Granted she did have the money to get out of there, but still how could he just walk away from her?
(Because he really, truly, honestly doesn't give a damn about you, Rinoa) she thought to herself, leaning her forehead against the cool plastic that served as the window of the tiny craft.
The man next to her, clad entirely in black, hadn't so much as glanced at her since he'd tossed her into his vehicle. She had no idea where they were headed, and knew it didn't matter anyway. When she finally got up the courage to open her mouth, she asked instead, "What are you going to do to me?"
He shrugged indifferently. "Use you and kill you, use you and sell you off... doesn't matter to me. An innocent beauty like you would be worth a lot, but if I'm in the mood to see your blood paint the walls..."
She shivered, tears streaming down faster and faster, as if in parody of a rainstorm falling down from the sky. She had no weapons, no one to help, and no where to go... Everyone had been right about her, she realized. Even in the end, she had failed to prove herself...
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Light burned through the protective covers of her eyelids, causing her to groan in discomfort. A monotonous 'beep' sounded off next to her at regular intervals and a sterile scent, or perhaps lack of scent, tickled her nose as heels clicked back and forth in front of her.
"Welcome to the world of the living, Ms. Valentine," a soothing voice greeted from her bedside. "You've been gone for quite a while."
"Valentine..." she murmured trying to open her eyes to the unfamiliar setting. "W-where am I?" she stammered in a weak voice.
"The Balamb Garden infirmary. We had specialists come in to perform a very special procedure. Now, here you are."
"A garden?" she searched her foggy mind for the term, drawing up at first, images of hedges and flowers. "Not like a backyard garden, huh?" she asked, smiling just a little. She tried to think again, but nothing came.
"Gardens were established almost fifty-five years ago, and your father helped to fund the original project. You've only been frozen for fifty years, child. You should remember."
As she finally pried her eyes open, she could see a middle-aged woman hovering over her, though her attention was now drawn elsewhere. "My father?" she wondered. "I... I don't... Oh my God..." she gasped fear seeping into her still sluggish blood and causing her heart to slam into her chest. "I don't remember who I am," she whispered, voice cracking as she spoke her thoughts aloud.
The woman above her turned to look at her sharply. "Don't joke like that, child!"
"She isn't joking," a voice called from the other side of the room. Through blurry eyes she could see what appeared to be a woman sitting at a computer. "Take a look at the brain wave patterns, Dr. Kadowaki. All of her personal memories are gone."
"But how did this happen?" the doctor demanded. "There were a few minor complications, but..."
"I can't say, doctor. It was a complicated procedure. After all, it took them fifty years just for them to be able to unfreeze her."
Kadowaki look down at her once more, an almost wild, frantic look in her eyes. "Your name is Faye Valentine! You're a twenty-year-old female, your family was rich, you were... dammit! Where are her records?"
"That's pretty much all we know about her," the nurse replied. "Her father donated the money, but no information about himself. So we really don't know anything about her, either. Except that she owes ten million gil for the procedure."
"What?" Faye cried, struggling to sit up even while the doctor pushed her back down. "Where's my father? If he's so rich, why can't he pay for it?"
"It's been fifty years, dear," Kadowaki said as gently as she could manage. "As far as we know, your parents are dead, or at least don't have any contact with you anymore. You... don't have a cent to your name."
Faye sat up and leaned over, masking her face with a hand as sparkling tears ran down her cheeks. "How... how can this be? My parents just left me like this?" she whispered, then jumped to her feet before Kadowaki could stop her. "How the hell do you expect me to pay that kind of money?" she demanded, anger glittering in her eyes even while the tears continued to come. "How can you just take someone that doesn't know anything about their life, anything about the world anymore, and then shove this kind of debt on them? Why bring me back if I can't pay?"
"I'm sure you can work off the debt," Kadowaki tried to reassure her, attempting to place a comforting hand on the sobbing girls shoulder.
Faye shrugged it off before letting out a frustrated scream. "You've got to be kidding me!" she shouted, shoving over the nearby table in her tantrum. "You can't do this to me! Just give me time, I'll go out and find my parents, I swear!" She stopped suddenly, limbs trembling, before sinking to her knees on the cold linoleum floor. "I just wanna go home..."
Kadowaki sighed, and squeezed her shoulder. "This is the only home you have now..."
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A shaky sigh escaped Faye's lips as the memory drifted past. There were few things as degrading as being owned by someone or something, and until she could work off her debt as a SeeD, she was nothing more than property of Balamb Garden.
(What if I just ran away?) she wondered to herself. (What if I just stayed in the syndicate and never returned to Garden?)
"It's been too long, now," Spike muttered in the seat next to her. "Why the hell haven't they come after us yet? Why can't I get in touch with them?"
"Maybe they were trying to get rid of you all along," Faye suggested with an impish grin that she forced through the lump in her throat.
He didn't find it quite so amusing. "I'm beginning to think you're a jinx, Maximoto. Ever since you joined up, bad things have happened to me."
"Like what?" she huffed.
"My sister is missing, all the computers at headquarters crashed, my favorite pair of shoes are ruined, and now this!" He took a deep breath and shook his head. "So what celestial being did I piss off to deserve this?"
"I'm not thrilled with the situation either!"
"Like I care?"
"You are impossible Spike Spiegel!" she finally shouted. "I mean, good-looking or not, you're such a-"
"What was that?" he cut in with a good deal of amusement alight in his eyes. "You think I'm good-looking huh? Well, you're not the first woman to say that, but really Faye, I am flattered. You're not so bad yourself, when the light hits you just right," he commented in a smug, borderline arrogant tone that had infuriated her from the very beginning.
"That's it!" she cried, slamming her hands down on random button and panels. "Get me out of here!"
Before Spike could stop her, the monitor switched on, and Margie's unhappy scowl seemed ten times worse as she stared at the pair. A flicker of relief passed through her eyes when she realized who she was looking at.
"Ha, I fixed it, I'm a genius," Faye gloated, leaning back in her seat with a smug little smile.
"Spike, thank God we found you," Margie began. "All hell broke loose at Headquarters."
"What happened? Where are you now?" Spike demanded, leaning closer to the screen.
"Look behind you."
Spike peered over his shoulder and was surprised to see the Red Dragon's flagship looming behind them. The Swordfish's sensors hadn't even picked it up, and Spike realized that it must have been sabotaged from the beginning.
"This was a set up," Spike sneered. "What happened down there, Margie?"
"Even now... I'm really not sure."
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Crimson liquid trickled slowly down her neck, staining the white dress she'd worn to the party earlier that night. Her eyes stung brutally, both from her own tears and the thick smoke that hung in the air. Her skin felt as if it were literally burning from the numerous eyes upon her, mostly those disheveled men with sickening smiles and whiskey on their breath.
Most of the rooms in that hall had no doors, and the people staying in them had little in the way of modesty. They smiled at her as she was dragged past, a knowing glint in their eyes that seemed to seal her fate even more than the merciless words of her captor. They knew what would happen to her, and yet, not one of them flinched at the thought. It was just business as usual in the lawless colony of Europa.
Broken glass bottles crunched beneath her heels on the floor, and under-aged runaways scurried like mice in the shadows, their glittering eyes and dirty faces reflecting the broken person they had become as they struggled to hide among the darkness without bringing more attention to themselves. Here and there traces of blood smattered the steel walls and floors, and everywhere people shouted and screamed, the sounds echoing in her ears like the howling of demons. It seemed perfectly suiting. This was a hell for the self-condemned.
After climbing several creaking stairways toward the top of the twisted metal structure, she was pulled into a larger room with a thick door and even what appeared to be a lock. Must've been the luxury suite.
Her shoved her into the corner, her frail body bouncing against the solid walls in a way that made her wince in pain. He came closer to her and she squeezed her eyes shut against the sight of the devil towering over her.
"Open your eyes," he commanded, but she simply couldn't comply. There was no anger or animosity visible in his expression, or his actions, but he drew back his foot and kicked at her stomach, as if in a rage. She whimpered as his steel-toed boot met her ribs with crushing force, and he promptly backed away as she collapsed on her side in pain.
"I have business to attend to," he said in his usual monotone voice. "I'll be back for you soon."
The door slid closed behind him, and it was then that she realized that, aside from the cloth that bound her wrists behind her back, she was unrestrained. This was even more unsettling than if he had. He knew that she wouldn't get very far if she did try to run. For the time being, she was safer in here, she realized, than she would be out there.
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Squall's scowl deepened as he stared at the disjointed metal scrap of a building through the windshield on the Ragnarok. He had been there once before on a debt-collecting mission four years ago, and it had been anything but pleasant.
Sighing to himself, he stepped out of his ship and made a mental note to strangle Jet when he got back to the Bebop. Even though it wasn't a very big place, he knew there would be hundreds of people crammed inside, which would make it difficult to find Mao.
(He can't be too hard to find...) Squall thought. (A stiff businessman like himself would stick out like a sore thumb in a place life this.)
He wasn't far off the mark, either. Inside, Mao stumbled through the hallways, trembling, shaking, and trying hard not to look anywhere but forward as he clutched his brief case to his chest. He hadn't wanted to meet here, but his business partner had insisted.
He continued toward the upper floors, and Squall trailed behind him, relying on the jokes and other comments about the 'suit' to guide him in the right direction. As the crowd began to thin out toward the top, he caught sight of Mao for himself, a few floors above him, and didn't hesitate to follow.
Mao stopped at the end of the hall on the top floor, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. His dark eyes jumped from place to place, anxious and afraid of whatever stunt his partner might try to pull. When a large, strong hand laid itself on his shoulder, he jumped two feet into the air.
"Relax, Yenrai. There's nothing to worry about as long as I'm here."
Mao spun around and nodded to the black haired man in front of him who was smirking in satisfaction that his guest was thoroughly intimidated. "Of course, Mr. Volaju. If we may hurry things along, I have another appointment to keep."
"Of course," Volaju replied, taking the older man by the arm and leading him down the hall. "This way. You wouldn't want those other people to see the kind of money you have, would you?"
"No, no of course not."
"Good, step right in here," at this he was shoved into a mostly empty room with a small cot against one wall, a table with a Chinese Checkers board resting on top, and... a woman cowering in the corner? His eyes widened slightly at this, but he had no time to pay attention to her as Vincent guided him to the table and pushed him down in the single chair next to it. Vincent picked up one of the marbles and rolled it in his fingers. "This is the virus, just like you asked for."
"Are... Are they safe to touch?" Mao wondered aloud.
"They're only dangerous when broken open."
"Good, good... Well, I have all the money here, just like we agreed."
Vincent took the brief case from him before opening it on the ground and shuffling through the bills. "Seems genuine," he remarked briefly before taking out a case of his own and placing the tiny blue marbles into the small circular indentions inside it. "You have a trade, Mr. Yenrai."
Mao relaxed visibly with a relieved chuckle. "Great. We'll have to do business together again."
Vincent helped the man up and handed him the case. "I don't think they'll be a next time."
Within the next instant, Mao was lying crumpled on the floor, Vincent's knife protruding from his forehead. Rinoa, who had seen the whole thing while curled up silently in the corner, let out a muffled sob as blood pooled on the floor, growing steadily until it was touching the toe of her high heels.
Vincent turned to her with a cruel little smile. "The world is cruel and cold. It has so little to offer. We wander across the worlds, not quite living, and not quite dead... life is nothing more that a short purgatory." He laid an icy hand upon her wet cheek. "I'll end your suffering soon enough."
The door slid open, and a loud 'click' followed shortly after. Vincent turned around to greet his guest, who was studying the lifeless body on the floor before his eyes rose to meet with Vincent's own soulless windows. If Vincent was surprised, he didn't show it in the least. His uninvited companion, however, couldn't stop his eyes from widening in shock.
"It's been such a long time," Vincent murmured, seeming completely unconcerned about the gun aimed in his direction. The gunman said nothing, but his finger tightened on the trigger. "What, no hello for me? It was not too long ago you and I were working for the same team."
"You and I were never on the same team. It was all a lie."
"Yes, and you were so easily fooled. You all were. You, Fujin, Seifer, Electra..." Vincent grinned, a sight that seemed to be a sin in itself. "And, of course, Ellone. None of you ever thought to question..."
"We should never have had to," came the response, in a voice trembling with anger.
Vincent laughed. "Do you still have the scars, Squall? I see the one on your forehead from the katana is as clear as ever. What about the bullet wounds you acquired from trying to save her? None of you ever saw it coming. You were all such fools."
"We fought side by side... We were all like family..."
"We never thought of you as equal. Me, Vicious, Julia, Raijin... We all looked down on you and the others. But especially you. You were nothing more than a pawn in Edea's game. Only fitting, I suppose. Since you passed up the opportunity to take over when your father died, and Edea came to power... I guess if you think about it, it was really all your..."
Vincent's voice was abruptly cut off as a shot rang out in the air and struck Vincent in the chest. He collapsed to the floor, laughing even while Squall stood there seething with fury.
"One last thing you should know..." Vincent coughed out. "It was Vicious that shot Julia that day... Up until the very end... you were so blind..."
Everything went deathly quite for a long moment, Squall unable to do anything but stare at the fallen man, and Rinoa unable to do anything but stare at Squall. In all the times he had been angry with her, he had never scared her... until now. In fact, he was so focused on Vincent, she didn't think he'd even seen her, and she was too terrified to call for him, no matter how much she wanted to. Even if he did know she was there... would he turn his back on her again, and just leave her there to die? She tore her eyes away from him and stared at the wall instead, shaking as an endless stream of tears fell from her eyes.
The silence was shattered at he spit out a curse and kicked over the table next to him. His eyes fell upon her then, and she flinched, wondering if she would feel the wrath of his anger as well. He stepped closer to her before kneeling down in front of her while she tried to press herself back into the wall. He gently placed a hand on her face, and she whimpered, prompting a softly muttured curse from his lips, though it was now directed at himself.
"Rinoa?" he inquired gently, and waited until she finally met his gaze. "Did he hurt you?"
"A little," she choked out.
"Did he... did he touch you?"
She shook her head vigorously, unable to voice her words any longer. Suddenly, she launched herself forward until she could wrap her arms tightly around him. "Please don't leave me here," she whispered against his shoulder.
She was surprised when his own arms came around her, albeit hesitantly, and he awkwardly patted her back in an attempt at comfort. "I wouldn't," he replied simply, and she knew it was his own, strange way of apologizing for leaving her in the first place.
No more words were exchanged, and as uncomfortable as Squall felt with a crying woman in his arms, he couldn't bring himself to pull away. Despite the fact that they were in a room with two dead people, and in the middle of seething mass of lawless, moral-less people, for the moment, he could do nothing but sit there and hold her.
**
See you space cowboy...
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A/N: Corny, corny... maybe a little too violent. Oh well. So, a little bit more of Squall's past is revealed here, and even more will be revealed in future chapters. So... keep reading!
Next Session: The calm after the storm leaves destruction in its wake, the aftermath of a disaster presenting a pile of ruin to be dealt with. No matter how much you wish it were so, you can't take back what is done, and sometimes, no amount of apology will rectify what has been destroyed. When security is gone, everything crumbles with it... Session 8: Balamb Shuffle