Blond Silence 8/?

By Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I do not own ff8. Daniel, Da'neal, Edward, Pixlan, Nikolai, the Gold Network, and the basic story idea are mine, all rights reserved and copyright 2004. Of course, I didn't invent murder or vampires.

Warning: Original character as pov in this chapter

Notes: This is just… well, emotional play for me. The Squall and Evan that Daniel's looking for were actually somewhere in a different ff8 universe, in a rp gone differently than I'd expected.

Eight

Daniel Trepes knelt in the corner of the cheap hotel room, forehead resting in the corner, violin between his knee and a hand, bow on the floor to the side, and blood red tears running down a face only the corner could see. He was nineteen. He was going insane.

Daniel had grown up in Balamb Garden. He just wanted to go home. His mother would know what to do, how to help him. His mom would wrap her arms around him and she'd make everything okay. Evan was gone. Evan was dead. Evan Leonhart had been everything, his smile, teasing, his voice so slightly rumbly and Daniel didn't know why his tears could be cold, why they were thick and slow as they slid down his cheeks. He didn't want to know why he cried blood tears.

He should have given his first solo at the Esthar concert hall with is mother and mom there to watch, with Evan in the front row, with Evan's parents Seifer and Squall and he shouldn't have died the way he did. In his world, time compression happened nearly twenty-five years gone, not just slightly over a year. But all he knew was he had to go home.

So he pushed himself to his feet, put the violin to his shoulder, lay his chin against the cheap plastic chin rest, and drew sorrow and grief from the vibrating strings, bow slow and perfect, as his soul cried tears of song. Evan was dead and Daniel didn't care if he were insane, not at that moment.

Omi wanted to bang his skateboard hard against the side of a building. No, a great big glass window, over the top of some ignorant, stupid people, as they sat and ate and talked about life and gods, he wanted to kick someone. Omi was a witch. He'd trained with Daniel's mom since he was old enough to read. Witchery was different than being a sorceress, more like what Papa and Da did with GFs and potions, but based in energy work and knowledge, without the GFs. When Daniel had been shot to death before his first real concert, Evan, and Raine had gone to Esthar.

Omi wasn't supposed to. But he did too. He was only fifteen and he had followed Daniel, who had been shot to death by criminals, but hadn't stayed dead, through some dark void of a spell. And now. Here he was. In some mountain city, no money, no one answering when he called home. His Papa's stolen payment card didn't work and he wanted real badly to put his skateboard through a window. Deep inside, he had a terrible feeling that they weren't really ever going to see home again, even if he did find Daniel.

And then, watching that same window he'd just been about to smash a moment before he saw… Evan?

A man in black pants, red belts, a black coat with white fur around his shoulders, Evan's wild hair. Omi watch the man's reflection move by. Not two steps behind him, Papa, but a different Papa, a scar on his face, but still. Omi ran after them, "Wait! Papa! DA!"

And in the end, it was youth and hope and need that propelled him.

Seifer spun. The skateboard hit the ground, wheels up. Omi launched himself and Seifer staggered back under the momentum. Omi's arms went around his Papa and they both staggered back into Squall, who scowled like an outraged badger, but the Omi wouldn't let go.

"Child! Let go," Squall snapped, trying to pry Omi's fingers.

"Papa! Why didn't you answer the phone? Were you looking for us?"

"Let him go," Squall snarled. "You've made a mistake."

"No! Da! It's not a mistake! I know you! I'm sorry I ran away! I am! I'm sorry I took your payment card, Papa! Look! Here!" He let go then, and fished into his coat pocket and brought out a slightly battered payment card, which he handed to Seifer. It read, 'Seifer Leonhart,' and was dated eighteen years into the future.

Seifer looked at it, handed it to Squall, then signed, "This is not your home. I am not your Papa, but I will help you."

Omi blinked. "Papa? Are you deaf?"

"He's not deaf," Squall said, still studying the card. "Where did you get this? Who are you?"

"I'm Omi Leonhart. I'm sorry, Da. I stole it from Papa's wallet while he was in the training room. You're Squall Leonhart and he's Seifer Leonhart and I'm your son, Omi," he said, defeat slowly lowering his voice to a whisper.

Seifer reached out to the blond boy, smiling. It was that smile that softened Squall's glare. "If I had a son, I would want him to be like you," Seifer signed. "Don't worry. We'll help you." He turned to Squall, signed again, "We'll help him, right, Squall?"

Squall ground his teeth, but said, "We'll help. We take care of the mission first. We've got to meet the others."

"You can come with us," Seifer signed.

"Yes, you can come with us," Squall said, pocketing the payment card. As soon as he had it in his pocket though, his instinct kicked in, sending a chill down his spine. The kid was related to their mission somehow, he didn't know how and he didn't know how to explain these hunches that he got from time to time. "Are you here alone?"

"I'm looking for my friend, Daniel Trepes," he said softly, holding back on information, like that Daniel was a vampire and that his older brother was dead.

"Okay," Squall said, feeling the swirl of darkness in his soul again, some warning of darkness hunting him. "You can tell all of us about it at the same time. Save time."

Seifer stepped just slightly closer to Squall, as if he could feel chill settling over Squall. "Hungry," he signed, then mimicked lifting a fork to his mouth.

The boy nodded, blond hair shaking around his face. He had Seifer's hair, Squall's eyes, Seifer's smile, but when he bent to pick up his skate board, he moved with Squall's grace. Maybe the time compression had bent more than just time.

"He's here, Daniel," Da'neal hissed. Da'neal sat on Daniel's bed, speaking to the closed door of the bathroom. Where Daniel was button up shirts and khaki pants, Da'neal was tight black leather, worn and comfortable, a half crop top of worn black cotton, and muscles that the little violin player wouldn't know what to do with. His hair too was red, red as fresh blood and curly, laying around his face and shoulders like he was an angel. He had a sapphire blue star tattooed to his left cheek and eyes to match, blue has tropical seas. He licked his finger, sucked it for a moment, then trailed it slowly across his lower lip, as he spoke, "I told you he'd come. Didn't I? I planted all the right seeds and he's come. Now we can see that he pays. Don't cry anymore Daniel. He'll pay."

"Leave me alone!" Daniel begged, leaning against the bathroom door! "Leave me alone! I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want you to hurt anyone! Leave Evan's fathers alone! It's not their fault he's dead! It's mine."

"But when they've paid, you'll feel all better, Daniel, I promise."

"You can't promise anything! I just want to die! Then I can be with Evan."

Da'neal push his wet finger under his lip, caressing a tiny little fang, rubbing his gum, eyes closed, "Oh but you don't really want to die. You're hungry, Danny. You're sooo hungry. That's all. We'll get you something to eat soon. As soon as it's dark, we'll get something to eat."

"Leave me alone!"