"Why canst thou not always be a good lass, Cathy?"

"Why cannot you always be a good man, father?"

-Wuthering Heights

Dancing in a Rain of Ashes

The phone rang. Ellone ignored it, lethargically lying on the sofa. Guilt. No matter how selfish, envious, gluttonous or evil she had been in her life, she had never felt culpable for her emotions or her actions. So, one could say, for the first time, Ellone Leonhart felt remorse but had no previous practice on truthfully apologizing.

Her answering machine clicked on, "Ellone, it's Squall. I've been thinking-" Ellone rolled her eyes at the word thinking that had come out of her brother's mouth, "And I've figured that the front page of Seifer's newspaper ..." At this she groaned. It was as if someone had needed to remind her of another missed headline in her journalistic career, "It had to have been Diabolos. So, time to go in for a kill. I'll have to try tracing the evidence back to him so I'm going to be seeing him soon."

"You're too late. I shot her." Ellone called out to the answering machine, "I destroyed your girlfriend."

"And after he's gone ... I'm giving the money back to Rinoa ... I've done my freaking part, I'm sure she can take care of the rest herself. Talk to you soon." Squall hung up his cellphone, very much unaware of the message that his sister had attempted to transmit to him.

Ellone stared disbelievingly at the phone, "And you've just finished her off ... congratulations."

"I'M BEGGING YOU to think twice about this, Alexander." Caraway sat at Mr. Almasy's bedside, leaning towards the sickly man, "This entire city ... this game that we've played for years will finish very badly if you do this."

Alexander looked at his 'old friend' wearily, "My son is a failure, James. He deserves nothing of which I have strived to build. Seifer will send my accomplishments crumbling to the ground, over four decades of sacrifice will be lost to his impulsive, stupid lack of judgment and I will not, cannot leave this wretched playground in peace knowing he is supposed to be the driving force behind a multi-million dollar corporation!"

"If you ... exclude Seifer on your will, if at your death, and forgive me Alex but your time seems to be approaching, your eldest son is ripped from everything he thinks you have promised him something in that boy's head will click and he will ruin the structured day and night society that has taken years to build. He will turn on us all, he will murder innocents because Seifer has only one thing in mind ... and that is to rule Deling city." Caraway explained lightly, but firmly.

"You are a selfish, selfish man, James." Alexander smiled, amused, "Do not attempt to sway me by your political reasoning. The only reason you would hate for the demon within Seifer to be unleashed is for your daughter's sake. I must admit I've never really known what it is like to be attached to your children ... Seifer was a botched experiment ... I suppose Cain is the closest thing I've ever had to a son. But, trust me, it's easier once you come to terms with it: Rinoa Caraway will be murdered, if not by my son then by someone else. She's crossed too many paths."

Caraway snapped venomously, "My daughter is the only memory I have of my wife, Alex, and though she tries my patience, though she taunts my good resolve, she will not be taken away from me so easily."

"You speak of her as though she belongs to you. She was never your daughter, James, she was Julia's girl. You are not her father, she had no-"

Caraway roared, jumping up from his seat, "Shut up!" A soft hum stole into a silence and James spoke again, a little calmer, "There is no better time than the present to fix your mistakes. Rinoa is my daughter ... and I find it's time I take my responsibility as her father. Do what you will, send an army after her ... but mark my words, Alex, I will do everything in my power to save her."

"You're too late."

"It's never too late."

ONLY CARAWAY COULD claim such optimistic things as he clung to the one string of hope left. His daughter, on the other hand, had already let go. Rinoa felt her hand increase the pressure on the glass shard, "You did this, Squall ... you gave me everything and then you took it away. Arielle too ..." The pain was almost welcoming, like an angel's touch.

"You could have at least left me my child. Even my father was good enough to leave my mother that." The tiny baby with raven hair and her wide sapphire eyes ... beautiful little girl. Mommy's little girl. It never had that chance. God had a plan, didn't He? Arielle wasn't part of that plan. And apparently, neither was Rinoa.

"You broke my heart first, Squall ... you could have done was finish what you started." It wasn't regret or sadness anymore ... as the salty tears dripped down her porcelain face, urging her to let the crimson blood seep free, urging her to die. It was rage that bubbled within her like a simmering cauldron that had been left unattended. She found herself powerless, unable to go through with it, "Why the fuck am I stuck with your dirty work, Leonhart? Come on ... come to kill me ... I shouldn't have to go through this trouble just to make you happy. Where the fuck are you when you're needed? Never there."

To do this would be a favor to him. To do this would give him the satisfaction he needed to conclude his vengeance. She wouldn't do him that pleasure. Rinoa heaved herself off her knees and let the slender piece of glass fall to the floor with a final shatter.

SQUALL ENTERED DIABOLOS headquarters confidently. If this was to be his death-day, so then be it. There was no use crying over the paths of destiny. "Amigo, we were beginning to think you were ... dead or something." The big boss greeted him smugly, "We were getting worried."

The handyman scoffed, "Nah, not dead yet. Just been doing some research ... digging out rotting corpses from my closet, doing a little soul searching ... until I realized I had no soul. So now I'm back on the market ... one kill, a thousand bucks ... tell me if you want the victim to suffer, I've thought up of great ways to let them linger in the stench of Hell." Squall smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.

Diabolos guffawed and leaned forward on his desk, "Sorry ... but the assassin spot has been filled. Trepe's found another hitman going against his own clan, apparently ... very skilled in the ways of martial arts. Now, I'm not usually one to question a close ally's decisions but I asked myself what made her change her mind about you so fast? So, I sent out some search dogs ... studied the surroundings, and found out you were in favor of Rinoa Heartilly, stop me if I'm wrong ... in fact, that would explain why she would bail you in the first place ... after she put you behind bars herself ..."

Squall's face fell a little. Quistis had found out. He had been thrown into the same crate as Rinoa ... he wasn't welcome here anymore, he wasn't welcome anywhere, "Listen ... amigo, I'm the devil's advocate. I'm not with Heartilly and I won't lie and say I'm with Trepe but I'll tell you that I'm just trying to get by here."

Diabolos smiled maliciously, "Carlos." He called out and his right-arm man entered the room cautiously. It had been the first words that the big boss had addressed to him since the 'Rinoa Heartilly mimic' incident, "Tell this man what will happen to Heartilly's empire. Every single detail of the plan ... and then give him a taste of it ... just enough so he can go warn his ... friend."

RINOA TRUDGED UP the cobblestone path into the heart of the cemetery. "Turn right at Hans Manstein, loving husband, father and grandfather. He had lived his life in honor, and had died in honor." So it said on the tombstone ... most likely a victim of one of those wars that happened years ago. She left the cobblestone to step on the grass lane of Peter Abbotsford - artist by calling, Jane Wagnall - mother of four, may she rest in peace, Nate Costello - son and brother, may his everlasting youth carry him into God's arms. She wondered what Irvine could write on her small tombstone since The Syndicate had no money to pay for one of those big, marble entities ... 'Rinoa Heartilly'. Period. 'Loving, screwed up sister and apparently a daughter of someone out there. Too young to get married, could've been a mom but shit happens.' No, that wouldn't fit properly. 'May the heat of Hell burn her just a little, not too much. May her body rest in peace, and her soul in pieces.'

And finally, Julia Heartilly - "If tears could build a stairway and memories were a lane, we would walk right up to Heaven and bring you back again." Loving mother, cherished wife. The angels found her so beautiful, they took her from a world that didn't deserve her.

Rinoa prayed silently, but not to God. Never again to God, "I'm everything you would have hated me to be. But this is my reality. I can't tell you I'm sorry for it, because I don't think I am. Squall may have 'killed me' ... but I guess I gave him the gun in the end. The idiot didn't have to use it though. So at least I can save myself from that part of the blame. What I'm asking for right now isn't for forgiveness. It's for understanding." She gazed down at the cool marble tombstone with carved angels at the corners, another set of fresh tears beginning to brim her eyes. "And guidance ..."

She heard footsteps on the cobblestone path and then the treading on the grass. Someone was here. She sighed desperately, "Christ, mom, I asked for understanding, not for judgment day. Why did you send him?" He was too close now, she couldn't run away. Ironic. The one person she had vowed to avoid. Someone who knew every last one of her secrets. "Or are you having fun with this?"

The footsteps stopped two feet from her and her father's voice beckoned her from her intense wishing, "Nice weather we're having, huh?" She could have shot him dead on the spot. The MORON, he hasn't seen me face-to-face for how many years and the first comment he makes is on the weather? Drop dead, dad ... drop fucking dead.

"Absolutely stunning." Rinoa replied sardonically. She found it unnecessary to remind him that the skies were a steely gray. At least there was that driving anger that kept her eyes dry for the time being.

"You're a very difficult person to get a hold of. Irvine was going insane saying how you had said you were going to stay home and then you wouldn't answer your phone ... thus making him hypothesize on your disappearance. So I figured I'd find you here." Caraway declared, just for the sake of conversation.

"If you figured you would find me here, I must not be that difficult to get a hold of." Rinoa countered aggressively.

Silence. Unfortunately for her, it didn't last long, "Well, this wonderful place you come to visit every month or so is a hundred miles into the outskirts of the city so, yes ... that does make you difficult to get a hold of. Then there's the issue with your cellphone that's always turned off. Also the tiny little fact that you don't tell anyone where you're going and when, so you could just as well be hanging in your closet than-"

"Hey, what the fuck, old man, you want a tracker on me or something?" She snapped viciously, turned to face him, "Under normal circumstances you don't care, but suddenly you want to know when I eat, you want to know when I sleep, you want to know when I-" She stopped herself short. Keep it decent, Rinoa, do that ... at least.

"No, by all means, you can eat, sleep, fuck, because that is what you were going to say, whenever it pleases you so." A short, annoyed silence and then, "Actually, no, I changed my mind ... you may not, Rinoa, because unfortunately, I am your father, whether you like it or not and you can not ... will not go through your entire life as a dazed adult that doesn't know when, how or why and just does things just because she happens to feel like it at that particular moment in time!"

"Oh my God, it's high school all over again except this time, you've learnt your lines. You're a little late, dad, just a tad seeing as I'm ... what am I? Twenty-four, twenty-five? I stopped counting but I think I'm leaning more towards the twenty-five. You should have given me that speech a decade ago ... a whole ten years, pops." Rinoa blurted out sarcastically, "But, I gotta admit, those extra years you spent practicing paid off. That was a really nice assertive tone and you didn't stutter a single time."

"Yes, I thought that performance was quite well done myself." Caraway stated cynically and waved the banter away, "Now that that's out of my system, let's discuss the present. Let's all three of us sit down and have a chat."

"Mom doesn't have a voice." She hissed venomously, "I declare a draw point for this conversation as one of the council members is missing. A faulty debate. End of discussion, go home, I was here first."

Caraway rolled his eyes and sighed, "Your mother would agree with me anyway."

"Ha!" Rinoa snickered and gestured snappishly, "You wish. You know, dad, you could write a book ... 'The Key to Bullshitting'. You can make it a two-story novel, one about parent-hood and the other of politics. It'd be a bestseller for sure. Hell, I'd buy it. Would you sign my cover, daddy-dearest?"

"With pleasure." Caraway answered curtly and took it as his duty to change the topic swiftly once more, "And I don't have to wish, daughter-dearest, because you and I both know that in these present circumstances, your mother would agree with me. So now, I give you two options ... you cooperate or I'll tear mercilessly away at the past few years you've been spending on fucking up your entire life."

Rinoa remained silent and then, in a small but resentful voice she spoke, "Fuck you, old man."

"I see you like to make things difficult for yourself." Caraway observed and cleared his throat, "So let's start with the first chapter of the book entitled, 'Rinoa Heartilly's Mistakes'. I suppose we'll go chronologically ... first on the list, drugs and alcohol. Just because I didn't say anything doesn't mean I didn't realize, hmm? I'm not that much of an idiot. Tell me, was it that much of a kick?"

No answer, so he continued harshly, "Then, enter stage left, Squall Leonhart. Yes, I even know his name. I've met him too, actually. I know everyone has their weak moments and everything but did you have to fall for that boy? Did it have to be him?"

She decided to answer him this time with a twinge of sarcasm to betray the lump that had risen to her throat, "My apologies, Caraway, I'll pick someone better next time."

"It's not about picking someone better, Rinoa. Actually, I liked the kid the first time I met him but then I learnt that you had been with him and that just ruined it for me, because honestly the first time I laid my eyes on him I saw him as the tough bastard who got the job done and then went to screw some random whore ... it was a big shock, really, when I learnt that whore was you. Which brings me to my next point ..."

"I don't want to hear your next point, I want you to go kill yourself! Go play in traffic, make it look like an accident!" Rinoa snapped viciously, "You think you know something, old man, but really you've got no fucking clue so if you don't mind, I'd rather get hit by a tractor than to ever see your face again!"

Caraway's voice buried his daughter's with a threatening roar, "WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY NEXT POINT-"

"FUCK YOU!" She bellowed back, interrupting him.

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN, FOR ONCE, PLEASE!" Caraway hollered pleadingly.

This was the confrontation that had been pushed back for ten, tumultuous years. Silence fell over the graveyard as the dead listened in, wakened from their slumber from all the commotion. Julia was watching too.

Receiving no response from his daughter, he continued in a softer tone, "Which brings me to my next point ... the child." It was like a powerful blow to the gut. A sharp slap to the face. A stinging pain that couldn't wear off, even after minutes of soft stillness. She couldn't speak, it was hard enough to breathe. Cautiously, Caraway followed up on his head on attack, "Tell me, did you get rid of it because Squall was done away with or was the whole ordeal out of the question anyway?"

Rinoa answered him for the second time without sarcasm, without a shrill yell but with a bitter tone and a sharp edge to her words, "Listen to yourself, Caraway, 'get rid of it', 'done away with'." She paused, "Do you ever look at people as human beings or are they just figures for you. Just faces without purpose except to be used by you." Her voice rose and her eyes locked right into his, "Do you ever listen to yourself once in a while? Do you ever care once in a while?" Unable to hold herself from the threshold of rage, she began yelling again, "DO YOU EVER CARE? ONCE IN A FUCKING WHILE, DO YOU GIVE A SHIT ABOUT STUFF?!" She paused and gasped a short breath. And finally, responded to the question, "Actually, father, as much of a disappointment that it may be to you, I wanted ... 'the child' as you labeled her, and I only ... got rid of it because one of the duller crayons from the box, Squall, had been ... done away with." She cracked a sardonic smile, "Are there any further questions or can you leave me the fuck alone?"

After a short silence dedicated to his recovery, James managed to keep up the determination in his voice, though it was weakening, "No, I'm afraid we're not done here yet." And he stopped again. What am I doing? I didn't come here to wage a new war. I didn't come here to stand in front of your grave to show myself right before the eyes of any council. I came here to be granted amnesty ... and to grant it in return.

Rinoa raised her eyes as if daring him to get on with it because she had no intention of wasting her time being stared at. She could not let it be known, but Rinoa just wanted to run, crying from the cemetery into the welcoming arms of solitude. This confrontation was too harsh. The little strength she had kept in reserves had been drained.

"I'll answer your question now." Caraway stated wearily, "I must admit in my years of living, there were very few times I can say I actually cared. I went through my educational life uncaring, I progressed through my career indifferently ... I suppose you're right, in some ways, I see most people as just figures to take advantaged of. But I cared about your mother, Rinoa. And I care about you, as ... fictitious as those words may sound. There were also times in my life where I didn't want to face the facts since in some ways they went against what I wanted. This is one of those times. You're right ... I think I know something, but really I haven't a clue. So I would like you to explain it to me."

"An explanation? Sure. You said that you care on a rare occasion. Tell me, dad, have you ever heard of love?" Again a golden silence that Rinoa let steal through just enough to let him think and then spoke again, "Well, that's what happened. That concludes the explanation, there's nothing else to clarify. I'm sorry it happened, sorry I put you to shame by my desire to have it all - money, love and yeah, even a kid. I'm sorry, I can truthfully swear that it'll never happen again because my 'lover' ran away with my 'money' and I lost my 'kid' so that's it, game over for me. One player less on your precious playground, jackpot just doubled. Have yourselves a party, you, Trepe, Almasy and the rest of crazies out in the field."

"A sort of bland defeat for the great Rinoa Caraway that succeeded at stepping on everyone's toes." Caraway remarked and his daughter shrugged, "Even though you resign, it doesn't mean that Trepe will relent on her chase to murder you."

"First off, it's Rinoa Heartilly. Secondly, if Trepe can save me the trouble then power to her." She drilled sternly, "I have just a few more things to clear up with my 'lover' concerning my 'money' but after that I'm good to go. There won't be anything left to do on this rotten piece of a continent. And let my 'kid' rest in peace."

"What would your mother say if she heard you?"

"My mother can hear me, Caraway, and if you can hear properly, she's not saying much."

Caraway sighed and rubbed his temples. Over the years, he had forgotten how stubborn his daughter was and his pride was keeping him from asking for a peace treaty. So instead, he meticulously antagonized over it, "Rinoa, Trepe is finalizing an agreement with a hitman tonight. Her henchmen and her hired aid are meeting at a construction site on Hudd Avenue ... industrial sector. She's finalizing it ... as in, no more discussions needed. As her ally, I wasn't going to stop her once again - that would've looked suspicious. Instead, I bought you a ticket to Balamb. I rented you a suite at the local hotel and I've opened a bank account and placed a considerable amount of funds under the name Anne-Marie Frances. An identity you will assume for three months tops, time enough for me to clean up this mess and ruin everything I've strived to build my entire life." Caraway dug into his jacket pocket and fished out a passport, ID cards and a plane ticket.

Rinoa looked at his outstretched hand filled with the rest of her life and back into his dark eyes, "I like the way you make it sound as if you're giving me a choice."

"Well, sweetie, I'm not, actually." He pushed the papers forward and she snatched them from his hands, "Good, so we have an understanding at least. First sign of the apocalypse but anyway. I'll come get you when the dust has settled. Your flight leaves tomorrow at noon, if you need anything call me."

If you need anything call me.

She had wanted to hear those words from her father's mouth since she had been fifteen. She had given up at sixteen. And now, there they had resurfaced like a bloated corpse bobbing up and down the river, "Yeah. I'll call you." She smiled genuinely, "You know, dad, I've always wanted to tell you this - you're a big disappointment."

Caraway shrugged and showed the slightest glimpse of a smile, "So are you. Now can you please not waste anymore of my time and go pack your bags?"

"Uhm ... yeah, sure thing, chief." She patted him on the shoulder and strode past him, towards the cobblestone path.

He watched her leave the graveyard and turned to his wife's tombstone, "So ... did I do good? I hadn't thought so either. You didn't give birth to a girl, you gave birth to a damn mule, Julia. With any luck, she'll listen. If not, well, I can tab her a bill later of how much this stupid ordeal is going to cost me."

He reached into his other pocket and got out a cellphone. Flipping it open, he dialed Squall's number and had to wait eight rings before it answered. On top of it, he was greeted by silence, "Leonhart?"

"What?" The voice sounded like it was in agony.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing much, trying to get a shoe out of my ass ... how're you, good politician?"

"Better than you. Anyway, there's a meeting at Hudd Avenue in the industrial sector at a construction site to-"

"Discuss your daughter's assassination, I've heard."

"From who?"

"The owner of the shoe."

"Lovely. In any case, Trepe's henchmen and a hitman are meeting to finalize a deal. Must be some sort of briefcase filled with money that's involved. Everything is organized to go smoothly with this friendly exchange. Can you see where I'm going?"

"I can't see much right now. I'm crying blood."

"Make sure everything goes wrong."


Author's Pointless Rambles: Whee, I win! Chapter 21 done and completed. Uhm ... so, hoorah for expanding on the Rinoa/Caraway relationship! There we go, lemme just throw in some realism here an' there. Notice my bit of humor at the end with Squall and the shoe? Yeah, I thought that was pretty clever. And anyway, I know some of you are only interested in Squall and Rinoa but pay attention to the other characters as well ... for example, Mr. Almasy, Seifer and Cain's father. Lookit the plotline, people ... what happens if that old man croaks and doesn't leave anything to Seifer? I wonder how many people are actually curious. I think I'll pride myself on this being the best chapter I've written so far since I've been dying to break out the daughter/father relationship.

Anyway - I'm VERY pleased with the reviews of the last chapter. Some people took the chapter really well and understood it fully and others ... well, not so much so. Particular thanks to angel-brokensorrow, NoliansStorm and Loki-TheGrimScreamer who seemed to have interpreted the actual depth of Rinoa's character and didn't go to judge me so quickly with a, "Psssh ... THIS PIECE OF GARBAGE, YOU SMELL!" (no, that wasn't a quoted from anywhere in particular). Doreedo, do not apologize for your long reviews as I enjoy them most. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as the previous (if there are people who enjoyed the previous chapter). By the way, kudos to those who felt sorry for Cain because that tells me you've looked at this piece beyond the frames of a fanfic and THAT makes me happy.

Ok, let's play a game with the reviews. Let's play INCLUDE A QUESTION IN YOUR REVIEW. Basically, include a question in your reviews and I'll answer it in the next chapter's author note - it can relate to the story or be something completely random like, "Why are humans so asinine?". But no questions like, "Where do babies come from?" because if you're reading this fic and STILL don't know the answer to that question just go back to chapter 20 and re-read the Cain and Rinoa scene. THAT'S how babies are made. (No, Rinoa is not pregnant with Cain's child, I think one abortion is enough for this story.)

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