Till Dawn Meets the Sky
written by Araclyzm
Chapter Two
p.o.v. Yuffie
I never liked change much.
I'd even go so far as to say I hate it. I like tradition, and continuousness, and the unchanged, because they're certain, and because they are predictably predictable. It's reliable; it's the same. Change was…uncertain. It was new-ness at every corner; it was a hot summer day after a cold winter night. Change made everything have less meaning, because everything never had time to earn it. Change was change; it never stayed the same.
I took comfort, when I was younger, in things that never changed, because I knew what was going on and that meant I was safe, until the inevitable time came that change would chance her face. I was naïve then; it was a restless and morose world that I lived in, and yet I never really stopped to think that time could slip from my fingers just as easily as images disappear from the memory. And with the disappearance of time comes the appearance of change, and gawd did reality give me a good one-two when I became the utmost aware of what was going on around me.
It wasn't my choice to make. I loved myself then, but not in that overly dramatic, egotistical type of way. I was content with how I was, and then it all changed, and suddenly I hated who I was becoming, who I had become. People always said that the event fourteen years ago forced me, the littlest and youngest survivor of them all, to grow up much faster than I should have. Maybe they were right and maybe they were wrong. I don't care much now, and I don't think I ever did. But one thing is certain: I never truly grew up.
But I have grown up to some extent. After all, it's been so long. Fourteen years ago, I was seven, and young and stupid and completely full of the innocence that's lost so easily. Five years ago, I was sixteen and foolish and optimistic and every inch your immature little brat. Today, while still maintaining something of my persona of old, I have no choice but to be serious when someone commands it, because I don't have control over anything anymore, and because if I refuse to listen, then I refuse to live. Rules rule this time and place, rules that were broken so many times before. I really never liked rules; I broke them and bent them to every degree I could when I was younger. Now, I dare not even poke them. Like I said, it wasn't my choice to make in terms of who I am now. I don't have a hand or choice or call in anything that goes on today. I just fight for what they tell us is right.
It was only a few minutes after Aerith disappeared upstairs that a loud blip ripped me from my streaming thoughts. My communicator. I sucked in a breath; pulled the round and abnormally soft object from my pouch; held the button; and spoke.
"Seventh ver-" I began, only to be cut off by a very gruff and static-filled voice that dripped sarcasm and cigar smoke.
"Kisaragi," it barked, loud enough for the entire castle to hear. I felt like snapping back, but the man was my superior; I had no more right to tell him to shut his face than I had the right to rewind time.
"Here, sir," I bit out, holding the comments that wished to burst forward.
"Report to the Library in five minutes," was the only thing the man on the other end of the line said afterwards. Then the gummi blipped, the sound was lost, and I was left alone in the hall again, wondering what it was now that those annoying leaders wanted from me.
Besides my ability to fight. Besides my ability to spy.
"Got it," I mumbled to myself, fighting down the urge to call back and curse at him. Seifer Almasy had some nerve – I hated him so much more than I hated Rikku. Everyone who worked beneath him did. It was the natural human reaction to such a dick.
"You know, you shouldn't make a habit of that."
Instinct told me to wheel around. Common sense told me to look.
So I did.
I felt like growling, I was in such a foul mood. But the feeling didn't last; when it came to Squall Leonhart, these other feelings rarely do.
"I shouldn't make what a habit, Squall?"
The man flinched.
It wasn't as if he really, truly hated his real name. The time when he insisted upon being called Leon had passed like a faze in a teenager's life. Five years did that to people, after all. Now, though, no one really knew what to call him. I called him Squall; I'd never ceased in doing that, but it seemed he wasn't yet ready to accept his name again. People more often than not called him Leon. He didn't seem to care much. No one really did. But everyone knew him as Leonhart.
He was, in every way, a Leonhart. His family was a powerful clan, with prestige and power and intelligence and beauty passed down through the ages. And truly, Squall's family was beautiful in every way. Now at the age of twenty-eight, Squall himself had inherited the blue eyes the Leonharts were admired and envied for – deep cerulean eyes that held dark, unfathomable secrets, the likes of which no one can ever create or even comprehend. They were eyes that went perfectly with who Squall pretended to be: a cold, heartless bastard. Of course, that was not who he truly was. Seifer Almasy was a cold, heartless bastard, but not Squall Leonhart.
Squall pretended I hadn't said his name. "Talking to yourself. Not only does it get annoying to overhear, but it gets unnerving to know the people you work with have no touch with reality."
I felt my temper rise ever so slightly at his not-so-subtle attack on my sanity. I grumbled this time and quickly thought of a retort. "Talking to myself isn't against any laws that I know about," I told him, rolling my eyes as my left hand met my hip. "What you should worry about, though, is if I answer. Then we'll have a problem." I smiled at my own cleverness. To my eternal surprise, so did Squall.
"Touché," he responded, softly. Gawd, how soft his voice could become – the ability was paralleled only by how hard and horrible it could become as well. He was just standing there, his arms crossed as always, his eyes watching me with a heavy thoughtfulness. I hadn't heard him come up behind me. I was too busy thinking, which is something I don't exactly opt to do.
I felt my head lean forward as if to inspect him. The chilled blue of his eyes matched the darkish tawny of the hair that fell with a natural eloquence to his shoulders in spikes that he seemed to have been born with. It was a fact to all that he was handsome and untouchable. Though girls so often vied for his attention, everyone knew he was beyond their reach. Those very girls secretly resented the only ones who were somewhat close to him – namely Aerith and I. It was no secret. It did get annoying.
I blinked as if I'd had a sudden revelation, and Squall looked at me as though he expected me to tell him what it was.
I smiled cheekily. "Where've you been all morning?"
He shrugged his shoulders, draped with the leather of the jacket he wore as of the beginning of the winter season. The fur that decorated the collar was matted down with melted snow, probably, and while the coat itself was unbuttoned, revealing the usual white t-shirt decorated only by the silver lion's head pendant and chain, there was definitely some sign that Squall had been outside.
"Out." Well, that confirmed it. Out; another simple answer to another simple question. He raised an eyebrow; why'd you ask?
I imitated his earlier gesture of whatever. "Just wondering." I hesitated a split second before I spoke again. "Um…did you get a call?" The semi-friendly air of our smallish conversation evaporated like mist quickly and I felt my face become hard.
Squall's did, too. He nodded once. Then he took one step and was beside me. Another step and he had already started down the stairs.
I quickly followed.
This may seem strange, but I felt more comfortable around Squall than I did around Aerith. It used to be that Aerith was my safe haven from the world, my shelter and my reassurance. Squall was what she saved me from; whenever he would yell at me, it was always Aerith that I would run to, to be consoled. Now, as time went by, they seemed to have switched places, though not entirely. An invisible something cut at the friendship I had with Aerith. But I think the reason my relationship with Squall hadn't changed was because we were never truly friends.
Or it could be something else. The fact that I've loved him for such a long time is by no means to be forgotten. Or pushed aside.
I smiled to myself.
Yes, much has changed. But not everything.
No. Not everything.
--
The room was stuffy and dark, unusual for so big an area. Well, it wasn't that big – it was only a side room to the even bigger Library beside it. Someone puffed on a heady cigarette, making a young girl in the back of the large rectangular room cough loudly enough to attract the criticizing attention of some of the older warriors. Two people drummed their fingers on the mahogany table to almost the exact same rhythm. Everyone stared at one another. Someone's chair creaked.
The man standing at the head of the room looked on at the group of people assembled. He was elderly and balding, while still maintaining two patches of gray hair on each side of his skull. His eyes were round but bland, weary but alert. He himself walked and stood with the oldness of a soldier who'd fought a lot through his time. It was hard not to admire him.
"Captain Sajouin?" someone said, finally breaking the strange silence that shouldn't have existed. The man that was built to be admired didn't blink; his eyes moved to the speaker. It was a man in his mid-thirties, perhaps, and he stood by a round door opposite the apparent leader of the room.
"General?" Sajouin replied, his lips barely moving but somehow managing to ring out clear. Another chair creaked.
"All those called are present and accounted for," the general said, bowing his head once in respect.
"Good." Sajouin turned his gaze toward the table, at those amassed into seats and those standing. Then he sighed, an old weary sigh, and I felt myself grow agitated. Something was most definitely wrong.
From the corner of my eye, I saw another woman rise from her seat and walk toward Sajouin. She was the twenty-nine-year-old Quistis Trepe, a former instructor from Balamb Garden and a current instructor for the Bastion Academy.
Fortunately, she was also the woman I complained to.
"The Heartless situation has gotten worse," Quistis began. Her voice was simple, unsmiling, and to the point, which proved my earlier thought that something must be wrong; Quistis lacked the stern demeanor for which the Enigmatic Men used. She wasn't normally seen so grim.
"The Queen and the subjects of hers that haven't rebelled are trying to create an armistice with the insurgents." I felt question marks pop into my eyes. Armistice? Insurgents? Right…concentrate, concentrate! "The mutineers seem to be willing to agree. But only for one reason: every day, the people of the kingdom grow more and more fearful of the Heartless."
Sajouin chose now to step in. "The war is drawing to a final close. Perhaps it is already done. But if so, in the near future we may be faced with a draft."
Someone coughed. "A draft?" the voice said, seeming surprised. "Can the Queen really do that?"
Quistis gave the speaker a hard look. "Yes. If the war ends, we're no longer a neutral world; by law, we must return to the kingdom. And if that happens, we are under the Queen's word. If she decides it, then we'll have no choice but to comply."
"Of course she'll come to NOVA first," Sajouin said. "We have always been the frontline of defense against the Heartless. As of late, however, the enemy has grown more powerful, and is overcoming our forces easily." Silence for a split second. "We're running out of resources. And time."
There was a pause.
"Is there a reason for this?" I looked over my shoulder in silent shock. Squall was leaning against the wall, as always, behind my chair, his arms crossed in their usual position. He never spoke at these things; I never knew why, but he didn't.
Quistis merely looked at him. She said nothing.
Then, "A reason for what?"
Squall stared back. "For the overabundance of Heartless. We had it under control three years ago, and managed to subdue them until now, even after End of the World crumpled. Is there a reason the Heartless keep coming back?"
"Besides the fact that the Keybearer is still gone?" a different voice joined in this time. I looked over at its source – Cloud Strife. "And the king, too? There is no one here that the Heartless fear, not even us. They hold the Keybearer…and he holds the Key."
I took a deep breath, wanting, for some reason, to join in the argument. Both Cloud and Squall were my friends (to some extent). I felt…left out, I guess.
"So there really is no way to stop it," I heard myself whisper. Several faces met mine; I felt my heart stop at the sudden attention and a dark rouge settled on my face.
Sajouin sighed again. "You might not think so, Kisaragi. I'm sure half of the people in this room don't." He pulled up a chair and sat in it. "But either way–"
The door beside the general from earlier burst open and a messenger practically stumbled in. My eyes narrowed at his windswept appearance; he'd been running.
Something was wrong."Captain!" the word spilled from the messenger's mouth. In his right hand, he held a clipboard, with the papers that were clipped to it nearly falling to the ground. "Urgent news from the board."
Sajouin rose to his feet immediately. Quistis made to follow him, but Sajouin shook his head quickly and followed the general outside of the room. The rest of the room erupted into hurried whispers like a classroom of students after the teacher left the room. I swiveled in my seat to look at Squall, giving him a look that ended with a question mark. He just shrugged, and then shook his head. More chairs creaked; the man smoking put the cigarette out.
I turned back around; Quistis was staring at the door Sajouin and the messenger had disappeared out of, a strange look on her face. Maybe she knew what was going on? Maybe the war was over. Cloud had moved from his position on the other side of the room and was now standing beside Squall, speaking with a much lower pitch than the rest of the room. I was alone, or at least I felt it. Looking around (and feeling really stupid doing it), I managed to catch a few bits of conversation.
"…Do you think it's over?"
"…Must be…"
"…Queen wouldn't…"
"…Really…"
"Finally, my lord…"
"…Scared…?"
Scared. Who in this room was really scared? No one, I think. It's an insult and an embarrassment to be scared. All the people present in this time and place are soldiers not built nor trained nor wrought to be scared.
I felt someone tap me on the shoulder and looked up to see whom it had been. I blinked once. Then I glared.
"What do you want?" I hissed, my voice rising above the level of everyone else's. The room quieted to witness the confrontation like school children watching a fight.
Rikku blinked down at me, for once not at all looking arrogant when it came to me. "I asked you if you were scared."
I didn't let her change of face get to me right away; I continued to glare, though beneath the surface, I was puzzling over why she'd asked at all. "Do I look scared, Tenoh?" I was ignorant of the stares we were collecting; Rikku was probably ignoring them too.
She shook her head quickly, a saddened look entering her features.
"No, I was just–" The door opened again and she quickly shut up as all eyes reverted to it.
Sajouin entered.
His look said all we had to know.
--
'With the signing of the Armistice Accord, which occurred on December twelve in the year of fifteen A. H. B. (After the Heartless Beginning) at the Olympus Coliseum in the Disney Kingdom, the battles fought over a course of five years were formally and fully closed over a treaty of peace between Rebel and Union.'
That was how the document began. The 'proclamation' was issued the day after our 'meeting'. It went on to say how 'righteousness will be achieved, peace restored, and all disagreements put to rest.' I only had to read the first paragraph (no, actually, the first line; Cloud dryly joked that I read only the first word) before I became predictably bored and ran away, leaving the others to finish reading it.
It has been barely a week since the ending of the war, and this morning another decree was sent to every world, every city.
The draft.
The draft was something that didn't really exist per say…well, it did exist. It was a law the King himself created way before I was even born. 'In times of war,' as it was written, 'all warriors of the kingdom have a solemn but discretionary duty to uphold, in which to be fulfilled only by volunteer. Though, by call of draft, the movement and decision to participate in the King and/or Queen's army is obligatory.' It meant, I think (according to what Aerith told me once upon a time), that anyone who could fight and who hasn't already volunteered might be drafted anyway. But back to my point: as there haven't been any real wars to speak of (just tons and tons of battles against Heartless), the draft (it should be with a capital 'd' since everyone speaks of it that way) was considered nonexistent, or ignored. Now that it's come to kick us all in the butt like karma on a naughty little kid, people are more surprised than afraid.
They should be afraid, though – that's what I think. The Civil War itself had no tactic on the Rebel side, and the Union never had much time to create a tactic, which was one reason why the battle never got too far. The other reason was the heartless; NOVA held them off for a while, but it wasn't an organized fight. We were just combatants that rushed into battle. While I'm sure the infamous Enigmatic Men screamed tactics and orders left and right, it wasn't necessarily announced and discussed with the people who put their lives on the line.
My point, though, is that once soldiers are drafted into the Queen's army, then they have no choice but to come and live under stars and on rationed foods wherever the next battle will be fought. Contact to loved ones is lessened to once every two months at best. It's weird to think that these forces, of all forces, would be so harsh, but the kingdoms who think the least of fighting are the ones who fight the hardest.
It was three hours after the draft edict that our former gummi mechanic of the original Traverse Town (Anamnesis City will take a while to dismantle), named Cid, was called into Sajouin's office to meet with one of the 'upper' leaders as well as Sajouin himself. When he returned to the Library a half hour after his 'meeting,' he would only tell us that the Queen herself had specifically asked for Cid Highwind. For what, it was obvious, but he didn't say.
It was two days later that Cloud received a summons. A bunch of nurses that I knew were asked to run infirmaries, but Aerith was required to stay behind as one of the Healers. Teenagers out of the Bastion Academy including Rikku Tenoh and a child prodigy named Lessandra Zatile were called in to see Almasy, Sajouin, Trepe and all the other leaders who were just one level below the Enigmatic Men themselves. NOVA's fighters were being called upon like chickens in a slaughterhouse.
Then, on December twenty-fourth, I was asked to see Quistis Trepe.
"Yuffie," Miss Trepe said through the gummi I always carried; she called everyone by his or her first name except those that were above her in status, "come to my office immediately."
The communicator bleeped into silence.
--
I wouldn't say it was my death sentence. After all, aren't all soldiers built to be honorable and worthy of their duties? I should have been proud. But my pride, while powerful, never really…dipped its toe in that neck of the woods. For lack of anything else that wouldn't sound stupid.
Not that this didn't sound stupid.
But anyway.
I was in the Waterway, one of my favorite haunts, lying on a dark beam near the ceiling when Quistis called me. My first reaction to what she said was frustration that I was once again bothered from one of the things I rarely got to do. Then it was slight confusion. Then, it was resignation.
I dropped down from my perch, scaring some nearby rats, and flew to the nearest elevator. It went painfully fast to the first floor, and then after two seconds of deciding, I took the stairs, stepping two at a time. When I reached the fifth floor, I ran down the eerily silent corridor, went right at the first turn, and walked two doors down to my destination.
Squall was waiting for me when I arrived at Quistis' office.
--
The room was big enough for Trepe's high status components, plus a few extra things in between. In some ways, I envied the woman's rank and abilities, but I also admired her. While she wasn't as strict as the rest of the professors at the Academy, which decreased her general reputation as a good teacher among the elders, she was also firm and a woman of her word. The students looked up to her, even more than Sajouin, who practically demanded respect without actually demanding it.
Both Squall and myself stood at attention (at ease?) before the medium-sized wooden desk that belonged to Quistis. It was piled to the bursting (or falling) with papers and pencils, most which were either broken, bitten, or half used. A Styrofoam cup standing on a nearby shelf (which was also piled with papers and books) gave off the unmistakable scent of stale coffee. A garbage can beneath the shelf was overflowing with crumpled papers. On the other side of the large room was a long, tall window that took up almost the entire wall.
Apparently, being nice went hand in hand with being utterly messy.
Quistis herself was sitting in a one of those cushioned wheel-y chairs that just makes you want to spin around in them till you get dizzy and fall over, watching the world churn like a washing machine window in front of you. I used to do that as a child, when I was five years old. Yeah. Good times. Always got into trouble though, especially when I ran into my father like a drunkard.
She looked up at Squall and I with a surprising intensity, as though she was about to tell us that indeed we'd been drafted into the military. There was no doubt in my mind that we were.
"Leon," she said, inclining her head an inch or so. Her gaze went to me. "Yuffie."
I mimicked her. "General Trepe."
She looked amused at that. I felt like I had to smile.
"Quistis," Leon said, his voice a flat line. I gave him a look to match that. Just because he had a past with the not-so-famous icon of the former Balamb Garden didn't justify him being rude. But Quistis only smiled, then let it fade away.
"If you're wondering why you're here," she began, directing her full attention only to me, for some reason, "then you don't have much to truly worry about. You haven't been called to war or your death sentence." The eyes behind her spectacles blinked once. "So stop fidgeting."
I stopped, but I hadn't realized I was in the first place.
"I have a semi-complicated problem on my hands, and it involves you two." I glanced at Squall; he didn't move. Quistis looked down at a piece of parchment that stood out from the rest because it was in her hand. "While you, Yuffie, were not drafted, you, Squall," she looked up at said man, "were."
If I had been cereal, I would have gone snap, crackle, pop.
I saw Squall's eyes widen for a split second in surprise, then narrow in his usual cold stare. I could tell, from the so many years that I've known him, almost exactly what he was thinking. Squall and I had always considered ourselves partners, or, at least, I did. It had always been this arrangement of sorts, where we balanced each other's strengths and weaknesses out in uncanny fashion. I mean, it's kind of obvious, right? Squall was big, I was petite; Squall was clumsy, I was nimble. Squall was this, but I was that. Both my and Squall's abilities were used to their fullest extent when we worked together. It had always been that way.
And it was no secret that without one, the other couldn't concentrate enough to work. Maybe it was out of habit that we needed each other to balance out our acts, but there was barely ever a time we'd been separate – when it came to fighting, anyhow. I was Squall's shadow, the thorn in his side, the pebble in his shoe. The puns and overused clichés could go on forever, folks. Anyway, fact of the matter is: we were partners, clear and simple.
I was the only one who spoke into the few minutes of silence that surrounded us after Quistis told us the reason she needed us there.
"What do you mean, Squall was drafted and I wasn't?" I burst out, beyond just fidgeting now. For the first time in a long while, I felt like dying would have been a small kindness when faced with the prospect that I was expected to stay behind while Squall – Squall, the man that I've come to love, the man who'd unknowingly been my idol for years, the same man who could either drive me insane or calm me if he so chose it – went to war.
"You can't be serious!" I continued, completely forgetting all codes of conduct or rules that someone of my lowly rank owed to someone like Quistis. "But we're partners, they can't expect to just send one and not the other!"
Okay, so it wasn't a very good excuse, but it was one nonetheless.
Quistis's eyes had softened while I ranted; obviously she knew how I felt about being separated from Squall. But she, just like I, knew what had to be done.
So, instead of consoling me, as I knew she would've done had it been an entirely different case, she hardened her features and glared – perhaps because she also knew it was the only way to get through to me.
"Miss Kisaragi, mind your order. I won't tolerate insubordination." She dropped the paper she'd been holding on her littered desk and stood, propping the palms of her hands on to the edges and leaning her weight against them in a stance of a superior. "It was specifically arranged that you be assigned to the Bastion's own protection. The Queen asked for warriors, but we need our own source of power to protect the citizens here." Quistis shook her head to emphasize her point. "We have no other choice but to separate you two. Both of you are powerful, intelligent." I would have glowed at the praise if I were in a different situation. "I don't know what these people are thinking, but I have no say in what they decide. And right now, they decide that you, Mister Leonhart, are going to join Minnie's army two days hence, and you, Miss Kisaragi, will join NOVA's."
She took a deep breath, and I felt myself run out of arguments. She sounded so old, like someone wizened beyond her time. I mean, of course we all had, but it reflected so clearly in Quistis that I suddenly didn't want to argue with her anymore.
She didn't say anything else for a few more seconds; then, "Now that you two have received your specified positions, I want you to prepare. Come see me tomorrow afternoon. You leave at midnight the day after." She paused. "Both of you."
I hadn't noticed that Squall had been watching me since I'd yelled out that they couldn't split us up. Maybe, if I had noticed, I would've folded into myself out of embarrassment. But what I did notice was that Squall had said nothing in his defense. The thought that he accepted what Quistis just told us enraged me a lot more than it should have.
"You are dismissed." Quistis nodded with her head toward the door and, crossing her arms, she turned away from us, walking silently towards the large window.
Squall's square shoulders and rigid back barely budged as he saluted and turned, eyes still glaring coldly. I felt like slapping him for not protesting at all – I knew he had a backbone, of course, but it was as if even he, the god that everyone compared to a lion, was bent unwillingly toward the powers of his superiors. Wisdom? Probably.
But instead of saying anything else, I just shook my head in helplessness and turned my back on Quistis with a barely presentable salute.
Just before the door closed, I heard Quistis mumble a soft good luck. Only, I couldn't bring myself to look back.
--
When she heard the door shut softly behind her, Quistis turned and looked at it as if in a painful sympathy. The number one reason was for Yuffie, and the second reason was for Squall. It didn't take a one-eyed monkey to see that they belonged together – it didn't take someone like Quistis to see that neither of them wanted to be separated, either. It just so happened to Yuffie was more outright with how she felt.
Quistis had known for a long time how much Yuffie cared for Squall, just as she'd known for quite a while how much Squall cared for Yuffie. Of course, as said before, Yuffie was just more upfront with her feelings, even these. Squall hid them behind carefully constructed masks of cold apathy and frigid seclusion, the likes of which Quistis had long been able to pick apart to see what lied beneath. Maybe he'd taught something unknowingly to Yuffie, because she was able to hide them (though not as well as Squall) behind her own masks – masks that people like Quistis didn't have to bother taking apart at all. She just knew, like everyone else who was acquainted with Yuffie just knew.
Quistis sighed to herself, and in the dark and quiet of her office, she realized how old she really was. Almost thirty, she told herself, chuckling outwardly but without any sort of happiness. She adjusted the glasses on her eyes and looked at the door. Five minutes had gone by already – what was the rest of the galaxy doing? What would they be doing in the next couple of years?
Time would have to tell, she supposed.
She cast her gaze back toward the window. The sight wasn't a spectacular one. Merely a small part of the Bastion grounds – that was all it was. You couldn't even see the Rising Falls, which were the only remotely beautiful things in terms of the views.
Quistis sighed again, a small, sad sigh. It just reminded her, somehow, of what would happen to Squall and Yuffie both in just two exceedingly short days. They would be gone, perhaps forever. She didn't think, even if they returned, that she would ever see them again.
The mind worked in mysterious ways, proposing things that a person just never wanted to think about.
--
I felt like I could explode. This just wasn't fair. How could anyone just put down a fist and specifically order that I had to stay behind!? If they hadn't just up and done that, I could've volunteered and gone with Squall! I didn't want to get left behind while the only man I'd ever loved – and probably would forevermore – ups and gets himself killed somewhere!
I know I'm ranting. Who wouldn't? There's just no justice here.
The minute we were at end of the hall, I whirled on Squall, intending with every fiber of my being to yell at him. But when I did turn to look at him with all the ferocity I could, he just looked at me out of the corner of his eyes.
And I saw sadness and resignation in those eyes.
"What?" he whispered quietly and I felt my heart break at how differently his voice sounded now.
I stopped mid-stride, my mouth open and prepared to speak. But suddenly, just like when Quistis sighed, I could find nothing to say. I really had to brush up on my vocabulary…or…something…
Staring up at him, I felt all the sadness of his being and all my love for him filter through my gut and become a knot there, as if I were holding in my stomach. I understood how he felt – I understood it all, in that single second, as if I'd known it all my life. He didn't want to go any more than I wanted to. But he had a duty to his Kingdom – he had a duty to himself. He'd been trained to follow orders and be the hero that risked his life in times where the dead numbered high into the thousands.
But I dare not think that he'd ever been trained in following his heart.
I had always wished he loved me – I'd long ago given up feeling sorry for myself in the sense that I would try to convince myself that there was no chance he'd ever love me, of all people. Now, though, I knew I had a chance, however remote, to be on the receiving end of his feelings. He hadn't taken any girlfriends over the years, not since Rinoa. But fourteen years had to have healed his pain somehow, right? I did have a chance.
In times of war, we rarely have things to take comfort in. I always took comfort in my love for Squall, when everything else just made me want to cry. The remoteness of my chance at having his love gave me something to hope for.
And maybe hope is all we ever needed in the first place.
--
It painted the perfect picture of winter's endless whiteness. The snow was at least three feet high, or so I estimated from my place near the Library's large window. It lay untouched by anything, even footprints, and it continued to grow tall. In the distance, I saw a single tree that hadn't been there before. It's bare branches were piled with snow, and it seemed so alone there, by itself in a garden where there were no other trees to accompany it.
I felt a yawn erupt from my mouth, and several faces turned toward me in a brief expression of annoyance, but I ignored them. There wasn't much work for anyone to do, but of course no one was around that I knew. Finding nothing of importance to do, the Library seemed most fitting. Which is really kind of sad, because I hate the library. Don't get me wrong, I like to read every now and then, but I'm not one of those people who treat the place as a second home.
Some people liked to call me a wanderer, because that was what I did; I wandered around. Aimlessly, if you must know, but I did wander. When I wasn't off saving the world or bitching about something, I just wandered. Sitting still was never one of my fine points; I'm not a patient person. Aerith's a patient person, but not me. Nope, definitely not me.
At any rate, when the library got boring, and snow prevented anyone from being outside, and I was to leave six hours from the present, I did what I barely had time to do anymore. Goodness knows where everyone was at this time. And yet, for some odd reason, I didn't really want to be bothered. Y'know, winter never did that to me before. I used to love it, before NOVA. It was a peaceful, fluffy time that once reminded me of warm fires in a hearth and hot chocolate with marshmallows.
I chanced a glance out the window one last time. The snow fell silently.
Well, time to wander.
--
p.o.v. Aerith
It was two hours before Leon departed for the Royal Castle on the other side of the universe when my final shift of the day ended and I was allowed to go to my room and sleep. And while my colleagues were more than willing to do so, I had another agenda in mind. I hadn't learned until earlier that day about Leon and Yuffie's 'separation,' but when I did, I was secretly livid with the pair for not telling me sooner. Leon seemed to sense this, for he discreetly told me that it wouldn't have made it a difference if I knew or didn't.
I've known Yuffie since she was barely six. Being her friend for that long has its advantages – with two hours before she was assigned to NOVA's army and it being ten o'clock, I knew exactly where she would go to brood. She was a wanderer, and I knew that if she had nothing to do, then it was more than likely that she would be meandering around the castle. However, given the situation, she would be in the only place that gave her a chance to think.
The Tower.
It has a slightly ominous name, wouldn't one think? The Tower. A soulless place, dark and unforgiving, towering high above all the turrets and steeples and stone gargoyles of the Bastion Castle. In it's earlier years, it had been used as the bedroom of the castle builder's daughter. Much later on, when the architect and his family left this world for another, it became a place for storage. Though the tower's history wasn't what one would call exciting, the mere atmosphere of the room was enough for Yuffie to have taken a liking to it the minute she found it. It was her secret hiding place, and I believe I'm the only one who knows about it.
The circular tower was as quiet as midnight when I reached it. Yuffie was there, however. There was a large window that faced the city not too far away, and the view was breathtaking. The young ninja whom I was searching for sat on the ledge, one leg up and one leg dangling on the inside of the otherwise empty room. She wasn't facing me, but the moment I entered, I knew that she sensed my presence.
And it was dreadfully cold.
I watched her for several minutes, but she pretended that she didn't know I was there.
--
End Chapter Two