A/N: Wow, how long has it been since I worked on this? Well, in honor of
my first piercing (my eyebrow, though hardly relevant, I just love telling
people about it) here's the next chapter.
Chapter 5
It had been a long, tiresome night of staring out the window, searching the darkness below for an answer. It was becoming difficult to keep up the façade, as she feared her partner's emotions might get in the way. Still, she had to keep acting the part. The truth had to be concealed, the lie told.
As the sun slowly crept into the sky, setting the horizon ablaze with flames of light, she decided that she would go see him, though she would not dare to wake him up. She slowly opened the door, delighting in the fact that he had forgotten to lock it. She hadn't a key, after all. She crossed the darkened room and came to stand next to his bed, just as she'd done on many occasions, but noting this time, that something was different. Something glimmered from within the trappings of his fist, and she gently pried his fingers apart until she spotted the silver ring resting in his palm. Though she had no feelings for him herself, just a possessive physical attraction, she felt a strong resentment upon seeing the way he seemed to treasure the small token of affection Rinoa had given him. She felt the urge to snatch it away from him, but thought better of it. No need to rouse suspicion. Punishment would be dealt soon enough
Instead, with a cruel little smile on her face, she turned away from him and gently shut his door behind her, before heading down the hallway to the room she had visited often during the night. As she looked in upon the small, sleeping form she would soon disturb so violently, she couldn't help but let a slight laugh escape. They were all just pawns in her plan, and none of them had any idea.
Squall had been lost to a deep sleep when the presence of a hand on his shoulder awoke him. His eyes opened slowly, and almost immediately came to focus on the tear-stained face above him. Giving a slight groan of frustration at being woken so early, he sat up to better face the distraught girl sitting next to him.
"What happened?" he mumbled, clearing the sleep from his eyes.
She looked away slightly, as if ashamed, then said quietly, "She. she hurt me again."
"Why didn't you come get me?" he asked.
"I couldn't get away. She was really angry. I'm sorry, there's nothing you can do now. I shouldn't have disturbed you."
He shook his head. "No, it's okay. Where did she hit you? Is it bad?"
"In a lot of different places," she replied. "But the worst is on my back."
"Let me see, if you can."
"O-okay," she murmured, standing from her place on the bed and turning her back to him. She reached behind her and pulled her shirt over her head, clutching it closely to her chest in front of her. Her pale, porcelain skin was marred by a large spot of purplish and blue with several scrapes and scratches across it.
"Damn." he muttered. "If it's okay with you, I need to get a picture of this, for evidence."
She nodded meekly, standing in the same position while she heard him fumble through the darkness for his camera. "Make sure you put the flash on," she offered in a weak voice. "If you don't, the picture won't show up very well."
"Yeah, maybe I should hire you to start taking my pictures for me, since you're so good at it," he replied softly before he quickly taking a couple pictures and stashing the camera safely in the drawer. "Okay, I got it."
She pulled her shirt back over her head and turned to him, "What good do you think that picture will do?"
"If Quistis is the murderer, then it could be useful in court for proofing that she's a violent person," he explained. "I'm really suspicious of her, and maybe you could help me catch her."
She looked him in the eye at this, seeing the clear trust in his eyes, even in the dim light. Her eyes darted from his, searching the floor in a display of guilt that, for the moment, he was too blind to catch. "Yeah, maybe," she replied nervously.
There was an awkward silence between the two for several moments before Rinoa finally said, "Well, I guess I should be going back to my room now. I'm sure you've got a long day ahead of you."
He nodded slowly and sat back down on his bed, not looking at her for a moment. When he did look again, she was gone, without a sound. He heaved a sigh and lay back across the bed, closing his eyes sleepily.
"Perhaps there's more to these lies than you think," he heard what he thought was Rinoa's voice speak quietly.
Opening his eyes again, he found that he was still alone. Was he hallucinating?
By noon the entire mansion, servants and guests alike, were awake
It was nearing noon as Rinoa sat alone in a large, cushioned seat in the library. In her hands, she held a camera pointed out toward the landscape that rolled out below in beautiful emerald hills. Rose bushes grew in wildly tangled bushes that covered the crumbling statues of the courtyard, and moss grew on the damp stonewalls that separated their world from that of the outside. She raised her camera into position in front of the window, but froze as a vague memory overtook her.
She remembered observing the same beautiful landscape, so many years before. She peered through the smears of dirt at the event unfolding in the courtyard. A carefully crafted wooden casket sat at the front, a picture of a beautiful woman placed on the top. A small crowd had gathered in front of it, a blur of black cloth and gloomy faces. At the front was a tall man with graying hair, and standing next to him was a young woman with honey blonde hair. The tall man was her father, a stern person with a stony face. This she recognized immediately, but the blonde girl next to him, possibly only a few years older than she was, she had never seen before in her life. She could recall now, had she had been so confused as to why this stranger was standing so close to her father. There was still a secret lingering there, that she didn't know or understand. She had taken pictures on that faithful day, the day that her mother was placed under the ground. They had been taken from her afterwards, just as everything else had. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to her mother, as she had been locked in the library during the funeral.
Her journey down memory lane was cut short as she heard the door to the library close softly. She turned in her chair and tried to see around the bookcases in the way, but still could see nothing. Getting up with an annoyed sigh, she followed the footsteps through the maze of bookcases, curiosity getting the better of her. As she turned a corner around one of the cases she bumped into something hard, and stumbled back. Looking up with inquiring eyes, she was met with a frosty blue gaze.
"Were you following me?" he asked, an unhappy frown upon his face.
She took a few more steps back in fear, and said quietly, "No. I mean, yes. I'm sorry. I heard someone come in, and I was curious, was all."
He shook his head. "Haven't you ever heard that curiosity killed the cat? What if I had been Quistis?"
"I'm not a cat," she answered seriously. "And Quistis rarely ever comes in here."
"Whatever," he grumbled, turning to search the bookcase. At this she noticed that he had a notebook and pencil tucked under his arm. No wonder he was so grumpy. He had come here to work alone.
"Can I help you find something?" she offered, knowing she should leave him alone, but being somehow unwilling.
"Those family records you mentioned the last time we were here," he began, "where are they? I thought it could be of some use to look over them."
She led him to a bookshelf near the back of the library, sheltered beneath an overhanging balcony on the second floor. Her eyes quickly scanned over the worn, unmarked spines of the book before lightly tapping the shelf with her fingers. "This is it. All the books on this shelf are the records that have been kept over the years. Anything you want to know about the family, or the business, should be here."
He nodded but remained silent, making no move to pull any of the books from the shelf. She wondered after his behavior until she realized he was waiting for her to leave. Trying to ignore the heat that spread over her cheeks, she ran a self-conscious hand through her long, silky hair and said, "I guess I'll let you work now. If you need anything else, I'll probably be in my room."
She turned on her heel and quickly walked away, not waiting for a reply. She couldn't put her finger on the exact reason why, but he had the strange ability to make her forget where she was, or what she was doing, while thoughts of him took over her mind.
As soon as she thought she was safe from his watchful eye, she glanced back in the direction she had come, and noticed a different pair of eyes upon her. On the second floor balcony stood Quistis, looking down at her with deadly vehemence in her eyes, as if she had seen and heard everything. Her eyes said it all, "Why are you helping him? I thought I told you to stay away." But the warning need not be spoken aloud. It was the only warning she'd get before she'd have to suffer the consequences.
When Quistis saw that her silent message was understood, she turned and exited the library into the second story's main hall. Rinoa followed suit, entering the first story's main hall and traveling to the illusionary safety that was her room.
Back in the library, Squall chose the nearest book and pulled it down before flipping it open to a random page. Business records. He set it aside on a lower shelf, making a mental note to pick it up before he left the bookcase, and chose another random book. This is one, a recent record of family births and deaths, could prove to be very useful, he thought. As he flipped through it quickly, something fell out and drop to the floor with a soft 'thud'. He bent down and picked up the shining object from the carpeted floor. It was a small, silver key that looked as though it might go to a diary, or small box. Maybe even a safe. Shooting a cautious glance around the room, he stuffed the key into his pocket for safekeeping.
Taking both of the books, he headed toward the nearest table and sat down in preparation for a long day of work and research. Studying the family records, he noticed that a particular place seemed to be marked in the back. He flipped it open, revealing a dried rose that had been pressed between the pages for years. It marked the most recent entries, beginning with the birth and death of Julia Heartilly. Beneath that was the birth date of Rinoa Heartilly, and under that was the final entry, or what had once been an entry. The name had been vigorously erased, and no date of birth had ever been entered. Only the date of death, the same day that Julia Heartilly died.
After a moment's thought, he dismissed it as a mistake, or perhaps the rushed recording of a distant relative's death. It was nothing to worry over, right?
Rinoa was half asleep in her room when a heavy knock on her door sent her bolting into an upright position. She decided it was probably one of the servants delivering Quistis' order to get up and help serve dinner, and came close to ignoring. A second pounding at her door persuaded her to answer, and she wearily trudged from her bed to the door. She yawned upon opening it, but slammed her mouth shut when she saw who was there.
"Squall. What are you doing here?" she asked nervously.
"Sorry. I see I woke you up. I was just wondering, where do you get your pictures developed around here? I need to get those pictures done from last night," he lowered his voice slightly on the last sentence, treating it as it was, a secret known only to the two of them.
She smiled again, one of those rare, innocent smiles that amazed him so much. "There's a dark room here in this mansion. I set it up a few years ago to develop my pictures. I can show you there, if you want."
He nodded and ran a hand through his hair, "Do you think you could develop them for me? I don't know how," he explained, seeming embarrassed that he didn't know how to do everything.
Her smile grew, and she stepped out of her room, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "I'd be happy to. Follow me."
She led him down the familiar main hall before opening a door and turning in to a series of dark, forgotten corridors with dust-covered floors and cobwebs in the corners. "It's been so long since I've been there," she explained. "I've not developed film in a year or more."
When finally the journey was finished, she opened a heavy black door and stepped into a pitch-black room. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped in after her, and frowned as the door closed, taking all the light with it. He heard a soft 'click' near the wall, and suddenly the room was bathed in dim red light.
"Let me see the film," she said, holding out her hand confidently.
He silently turned over his fragile evidence to her, and watched as she began messing with chemicals, and small trays. As she set about her work, he leaned closer and watched over her shoulder, part of his mind filled with curiosity, and the other with thoughts of how small the room was, and how close he was to her.
He wasn't the only one to notice this, of course. Rinoa was glad she had gone through this process enough times that she could do it without thinking, because her thoughts were currently occupied with other things. She could sense him right behind her, intently watching everything she did. He was so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body, as well as his warm breath on her neck and shoulder. At this sensation, her body tensed visibly, and goose bumps rose along her arms and neck. It was as if volts of electricity were pumping through her veins. She couldn't help but wish that developing process lasted longer.
Finally, she placed the photo in one last try, and the two watched as the image slowly became visible. When Rinoa saw it, she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her mouth. Of course she had examined the bruise in the mirror, but for some reason, looking at it now in the picture in front of her, she felt as if the weight of the situation grew a thousand times. The physical pain she had endured had been great, but looking at it now, as a person from the outside, the immense pain in her heart was far worse. She slowly put a trembling hand to her mouth, staring down through glassy eyes.
Squall looked over at her questioningly, still close at her shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
She looked at him with mourning, desperate eyes, their faces inches apart. She drew in a shaky breath, and in a moment of sheer weakness, reached out for the only comfort there was to be had. She leaned forward slowly, and met his lips to hers.
A/N: So, what do you think? There's a little bit going on here, both in plot development, and in the romance department. Also, I just wanted to say, that I really know very little about photography and picture developing, so if I said/did something wrong, feel free to flame/criticize/ correct me.
Chapter 5
It had been a long, tiresome night of staring out the window, searching the darkness below for an answer. It was becoming difficult to keep up the façade, as she feared her partner's emotions might get in the way. Still, she had to keep acting the part. The truth had to be concealed, the lie told.
As the sun slowly crept into the sky, setting the horizon ablaze with flames of light, she decided that she would go see him, though she would not dare to wake him up. She slowly opened the door, delighting in the fact that he had forgotten to lock it. She hadn't a key, after all. She crossed the darkened room and came to stand next to his bed, just as she'd done on many occasions, but noting this time, that something was different. Something glimmered from within the trappings of his fist, and she gently pried his fingers apart until she spotted the silver ring resting in his palm. Though she had no feelings for him herself, just a possessive physical attraction, she felt a strong resentment upon seeing the way he seemed to treasure the small token of affection Rinoa had given him. She felt the urge to snatch it away from him, but thought better of it. No need to rouse suspicion. Punishment would be dealt soon enough
Instead, with a cruel little smile on her face, she turned away from him and gently shut his door behind her, before heading down the hallway to the room she had visited often during the night. As she looked in upon the small, sleeping form she would soon disturb so violently, she couldn't help but let a slight laugh escape. They were all just pawns in her plan, and none of them had any idea.
Squall had been lost to a deep sleep when the presence of a hand on his shoulder awoke him. His eyes opened slowly, and almost immediately came to focus on the tear-stained face above him. Giving a slight groan of frustration at being woken so early, he sat up to better face the distraught girl sitting next to him.
"What happened?" he mumbled, clearing the sleep from his eyes.
She looked away slightly, as if ashamed, then said quietly, "She. she hurt me again."
"Why didn't you come get me?" he asked.
"I couldn't get away. She was really angry. I'm sorry, there's nothing you can do now. I shouldn't have disturbed you."
He shook his head. "No, it's okay. Where did she hit you? Is it bad?"
"In a lot of different places," she replied. "But the worst is on my back."
"Let me see, if you can."
"O-okay," she murmured, standing from her place on the bed and turning her back to him. She reached behind her and pulled her shirt over her head, clutching it closely to her chest in front of her. Her pale, porcelain skin was marred by a large spot of purplish and blue with several scrapes and scratches across it.
"Damn." he muttered. "If it's okay with you, I need to get a picture of this, for evidence."
She nodded meekly, standing in the same position while she heard him fumble through the darkness for his camera. "Make sure you put the flash on," she offered in a weak voice. "If you don't, the picture won't show up very well."
"Yeah, maybe I should hire you to start taking my pictures for me, since you're so good at it," he replied softly before he quickly taking a couple pictures and stashing the camera safely in the drawer. "Okay, I got it."
She pulled her shirt back over her head and turned to him, "What good do you think that picture will do?"
"If Quistis is the murderer, then it could be useful in court for proofing that she's a violent person," he explained. "I'm really suspicious of her, and maybe you could help me catch her."
She looked him in the eye at this, seeing the clear trust in his eyes, even in the dim light. Her eyes darted from his, searching the floor in a display of guilt that, for the moment, he was too blind to catch. "Yeah, maybe," she replied nervously.
There was an awkward silence between the two for several moments before Rinoa finally said, "Well, I guess I should be going back to my room now. I'm sure you've got a long day ahead of you."
He nodded slowly and sat back down on his bed, not looking at her for a moment. When he did look again, she was gone, without a sound. He heaved a sigh and lay back across the bed, closing his eyes sleepily.
"Perhaps there's more to these lies than you think," he heard what he thought was Rinoa's voice speak quietly.
Opening his eyes again, he found that he was still alone. Was he hallucinating?
By noon the entire mansion, servants and guests alike, were awake
It was nearing noon as Rinoa sat alone in a large, cushioned seat in the library. In her hands, she held a camera pointed out toward the landscape that rolled out below in beautiful emerald hills. Rose bushes grew in wildly tangled bushes that covered the crumbling statues of the courtyard, and moss grew on the damp stonewalls that separated their world from that of the outside. She raised her camera into position in front of the window, but froze as a vague memory overtook her.
She remembered observing the same beautiful landscape, so many years before. She peered through the smears of dirt at the event unfolding in the courtyard. A carefully crafted wooden casket sat at the front, a picture of a beautiful woman placed on the top. A small crowd had gathered in front of it, a blur of black cloth and gloomy faces. At the front was a tall man with graying hair, and standing next to him was a young woman with honey blonde hair. The tall man was her father, a stern person with a stony face. This she recognized immediately, but the blonde girl next to him, possibly only a few years older than she was, she had never seen before in her life. She could recall now, had she had been so confused as to why this stranger was standing so close to her father. There was still a secret lingering there, that she didn't know or understand. She had taken pictures on that faithful day, the day that her mother was placed under the ground. They had been taken from her afterwards, just as everything else had. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to her mother, as she had been locked in the library during the funeral.
Her journey down memory lane was cut short as she heard the door to the library close softly. She turned in her chair and tried to see around the bookcases in the way, but still could see nothing. Getting up with an annoyed sigh, she followed the footsteps through the maze of bookcases, curiosity getting the better of her. As she turned a corner around one of the cases she bumped into something hard, and stumbled back. Looking up with inquiring eyes, she was met with a frosty blue gaze.
"Were you following me?" he asked, an unhappy frown upon his face.
She took a few more steps back in fear, and said quietly, "No. I mean, yes. I'm sorry. I heard someone come in, and I was curious, was all."
He shook his head. "Haven't you ever heard that curiosity killed the cat? What if I had been Quistis?"
"I'm not a cat," she answered seriously. "And Quistis rarely ever comes in here."
"Whatever," he grumbled, turning to search the bookcase. At this she noticed that he had a notebook and pencil tucked under his arm. No wonder he was so grumpy. He had come here to work alone.
"Can I help you find something?" she offered, knowing she should leave him alone, but being somehow unwilling.
"Those family records you mentioned the last time we were here," he began, "where are they? I thought it could be of some use to look over them."
She led him to a bookshelf near the back of the library, sheltered beneath an overhanging balcony on the second floor. Her eyes quickly scanned over the worn, unmarked spines of the book before lightly tapping the shelf with her fingers. "This is it. All the books on this shelf are the records that have been kept over the years. Anything you want to know about the family, or the business, should be here."
He nodded but remained silent, making no move to pull any of the books from the shelf. She wondered after his behavior until she realized he was waiting for her to leave. Trying to ignore the heat that spread over her cheeks, she ran a self-conscious hand through her long, silky hair and said, "I guess I'll let you work now. If you need anything else, I'll probably be in my room."
She turned on her heel and quickly walked away, not waiting for a reply. She couldn't put her finger on the exact reason why, but he had the strange ability to make her forget where she was, or what she was doing, while thoughts of him took over her mind.
As soon as she thought she was safe from his watchful eye, she glanced back in the direction she had come, and noticed a different pair of eyes upon her. On the second floor balcony stood Quistis, looking down at her with deadly vehemence in her eyes, as if she had seen and heard everything. Her eyes said it all, "Why are you helping him? I thought I told you to stay away." But the warning need not be spoken aloud. It was the only warning she'd get before she'd have to suffer the consequences.
When Quistis saw that her silent message was understood, she turned and exited the library into the second story's main hall. Rinoa followed suit, entering the first story's main hall and traveling to the illusionary safety that was her room.
Back in the library, Squall chose the nearest book and pulled it down before flipping it open to a random page. Business records. He set it aside on a lower shelf, making a mental note to pick it up before he left the bookcase, and chose another random book. This is one, a recent record of family births and deaths, could prove to be very useful, he thought. As he flipped through it quickly, something fell out and drop to the floor with a soft 'thud'. He bent down and picked up the shining object from the carpeted floor. It was a small, silver key that looked as though it might go to a diary, or small box. Maybe even a safe. Shooting a cautious glance around the room, he stuffed the key into his pocket for safekeeping.
Taking both of the books, he headed toward the nearest table and sat down in preparation for a long day of work and research. Studying the family records, he noticed that a particular place seemed to be marked in the back. He flipped it open, revealing a dried rose that had been pressed between the pages for years. It marked the most recent entries, beginning with the birth and death of Julia Heartilly. Beneath that was the birth date of Rinoa Heartilly, and under that was the final entry, or what had once been an entry. The name had been vigorously erased, and no date of birth had ever been entered. Only the date of death, the same day that Julia Heartilly died.
After a moment's thought, he dismissed it as a mistake, or perhaps the rushed recording of a distant relative's death. It was nothing to worry over, right?
Rinoa was half asleep in her room when a heavy knock on her door sent her bolting into an upright position. She decided it was probably one of the servants delivering Quistis' order to get up and help serve dinner, and came close to ignoring. A second pounding at her door persuaded her to answer, and she wearily trudged from her bed to the door. She yawned upon opening it, but slammed her mouth shut when she saw who was there.
"Squall. What are you doing here?" she asked nervously.
"Sorry. I see I woke you up. I was just wondering, where do you get your pictures developed around here? I need to get those pictures done from last night," he lowered his voice slightly on the last sentence, treating it as it was, a secret known only to the two of them.
She smiled again, one of those rare, innocent smiles that amazed him so much. "There's a dark room here in this mansion. I set it up a few years ago to develop my pictures. I can show you there, if you want."
He nodded and ran a hand through his hair, "Do you think you could develop them for me? I don't know how," he explained, seeming embarrassed that he didn't know how to do everything.
Her smile grew, and she stepped out of her room, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "I'd be happy to. Follow me."
She led him down the familiar main hall before opening a door and turning in to a series of dark, forgotten corridors with dust-covered floors and cobwebs in the corners. "It's been so long since I've been there," she explained. "I've not developed film in a year or more."
When finally the journey was finished, she opened a heavy black door and stepped into a pitch-black room. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped in after her, and frowned as the door closed, taking all the light with it. He heard a soft 'click' near the wall, and suddenly the room was bathed in dim red light.
"Let me see the film," she said, holding out her hand confidently.
He silently turned over his fragile evidence to her, and watched as she began messing with chemicals, and small trays. As she set about her work, he leaned closer and watched over her shoulder, part of his mind filled with curiosity, and the other with thoughts of how small the room was, and how close he was to her.
He wasn't the only one to notice this, of course. Rinoa was glad she had gone through this process enough times that she could do it without thinking, because her thoughts were currently occupied with other things. She could sense him right behind her, intently watching everything she did. He was so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body, as well as his warm breath on her neck and shoulder. At this sensation, her body tensed visibly, and goose bumps rose along her arms and neck. It was as if volts of electricity were pumping through her veins. She couldn't help but wish that developing process lasted longer.
Finally, she placed the photo in one last try, and the two watched as the image slowly became visible. When Rinoa saw it, she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her mouth. Of course she had examined the bruise in the mirror, but for some reason, looking at it now in the picture in front of her, she felt as if the weight of the situation grew a thousand times. The physical pain she had endured had been great, but looking at it now, as a person from the outside, the immense pain in her heart was far worse. She slowly put a trembling hand to her mouth, staring down through glassy eyes.
Squall looked over at her questioningly, still close at her shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
She looked at him with mourning, desperate eyes, their faces inches apart. She drew in a shaky breath, and in a moment of sheer weakness, reached out for the only comfort there was to be had. She leaned forward slowly, and met his lips to hers.
A/N: So, what do you think? There's a little bit going on here, both in plot development, and in the romance department. Also, I just wanted to say, that I really know very little about photography and picture developing, so if I said/did something wrong, feel free to flame/criticize/ correct me.