Everything was warm, peaceful and good. He was done, finished with his life and the swirling mist around him formed a blanket of comfort that assured him that all was well. Things had been left in good hands and he had no more tasks to attend to. There was no body nor mind to anchor him, the burdensome weight of his human soul had been lifted. All that was left was the pure essence that made him who he was, undiluted by the pain wrought upon him by a mortal life. Content in his non-corporeality, he set adrift in a sea of contentment, relieved that his suffering was behind him. Though there was an occasional twinge of regret at something that he'd left undone. The mists had assured him that there was nothing that he had to do, no tasks to finish, but there was still a feeling, deep inside, that there was much he'd left behind. Things that were important to him. Things he hadn't said. Things that he'd never even experienced. It didn't matter now...did it?

"You do not belong"...a voice from the light spoke, it was feminine. Gentle, caressing his senses. It seemed as if it was not just one voice, but many. Like an entire choir of angels, singing only to him.

"No.You're wrong." he replied, no matter how gently she spoke or how she tried to convince him, he would not budge. "I want to stay."

He belonged here. He wanted so much to be finished. The voice waited him out and he could tell it was amused at his denial. This did not stop the binding of his soul as it was pushed back into his human shell. Denial would not stop his life from returning. The golden voice laughed lightly as he struggled to remain in the heavens.

"You don't belong. Go home."

The breath of life filled him and Squall Leonhart lived once more. The world he sought to abandon rushed back to him, as well as his memories. He was aware that he was tired and weak, and not much else. There was pain but only in the in-between times, when he was actually awake. Squall lay between waking and dreaming as his body recovered from his wounds. His consciousness was assaulted with dreams during this time but there were brief respites when he would awaken to bright light and muffled sound. For the most part, his mind was trapped within a world of deep darkness and haunting images.

He dreamed of blood and sorrow, of the last minutes of his life, he dreamed of Laguna--which seemed most out of place to him, dreamed of searching and what was to come, premonitions that would echo soundlessly within him long after he'd forgotten their meaning, but mostly, he dreamed about her. Squall's pride would not allow him to say her name but in his dreams, she was there. A spinning memory that played over and over again, like a film that skipped a spoke. Dark hair, dark eyes and an effervescent smile, his thoughts never strayed far from it. She waited for him, he knew she did. He had tried so hard to meet her but something always held him back. Despite never being able to reach her, he could feel that she was near. His tired mind always keeping its concentration locked on her pinprick of light. It was this dream that sustained him, kept him fighting to surface from the void. Her light that guided him to the distant shore as he swam towards it. Squall fought the current, no longer content to be dragged in its wake.

"Wake up."

The voice and the accompanying shove were unpleasant to the waking young man.

"WAKE UP!" the voice repeated, the harshness of its tone was achingly familiar, "Wake up. Mother FUCKER! Wake the fuck up!...son of a...get the god damned hose..."

Squall opened his eyes a crack at the last comment, his mind trying desperately to understand the meaning of the statement and why the other parts of his mind panicked at the concept. Soon, everything became clear as he was blasted by a blast of water. A cold, pulsating stream of water that beat at his skin and sent him sputtering against the wall of his cell. The water abruptly stopped and Squall braced himself on his cot as he coughed and wheezed, still in shock at being so rudely awakened. Bleary he opened his eyes to regard his surroundings, his tired mind focusing on the moving blobs of color in front of him. One of the blobs approached and promptly punched him, hard. Stars exploded in the back of his skull and Squall reeled. Through the buzzing in his ears and the pain in his head, he recognized the voice that addressed him at last.

"Seifer."

A/N--Sorry about the shortness of the chapter. The next chapters should be longer...or maybe not. I do have a guest writer coming in for the next few. I asked my hubbie, Scott, to write the torture chapters. Because I plainly suck at writing them...believe me, I know I suck. I have to warn y'all. They are pretty intense. I've read some of what he's written and it's...WHOA! Scary. But this is why I had him write them. He's very good with such scary turns of subject. (He has an RE2 script that's half done that's excellent, if allowed script formatted writing I'd poke him until he posted it.) Also, the format for the next few chapters is what I'd like to term experimental. Like an experimental film, only with less pretentious prattling. Aaaaaanyways. Welcome back, Squall!! He's likely to be quite fucked up by the end of all this. I've determined I made him too soft and henceforth, I shall rectify it. Until of course, Rinny melts his heart! YAY! Okay. I'm gonna go bye-bye. So much to write....sigh