A pill to make you numb
A pill to make you dumb
A pill to make you anybody else
But all the drugs in this world
Won't save her from herself.

-Coma White (Marilyn Manson)

Crushed Petals

It had been a long time since Rinoa had stepped into a hospital. Ten years. The smell still made her sick to her stomach … the stench of illness and of dying. The pale blue walls, the fluorescent lights … Christ, everything in here was ugly to accommodate every 'hopeless case' to their deaths. Hopeless. I'm sorry Mr. Caraway, it's become hopeless. The malignant cells have spread throughout the body. Her father hadn't looked at her then, when the doctors announced that with fake sympathy. In fact, it had been months that he had been averting his daughter's eyes and it would be years before he would even begin to glance at her again.

Irony. Like the blood she draws from biting on her tongue to keep control. Alone in the hallway, she plays a game. Stare at a spot on the linoleum floor. A nurse rushes by and stops abruptly to look at the young lady, "Are you alright, hunny?" Her uniform is the color of the walls. Ugly.

Don't break your gaze for such a petty question, "Yes, quite." Her words are sharpened stone … jagged and cold.

"Are you Mrs. Caraway's daughter?" The nurse is bending down towards her now, piqued with concern for the girl she nearly mistook for a fathom of her imagination. So transparent, leaning against the wall, her eyes downcast.

"No. I don't know a Mrs. Caraway."

"Alright, well if you need anything, my name is Arielle and I'll always be on this floor … who are you waiting for?" She reaches for the girl's shoulder and shakes it gently, "What's your name?"

Nurses are always such nosey bitches. Rinoa's vacant eyes turn from the floor and cut into the 'Arielle's' heart, "At 1:36 p.m. today, I stopped waiting for someone because the doctors told me she would never come and my name doesn't matter because there isn't anyone that cares anymore. No, I don't need anything you can give to me."

The nurse's sapphire eyes look to the floor, "My condolences." The nurse straightens herself and disappears into the Intensive Care hallways. To add to the sorrow, Rinoa is now numbed by a certain guilt, like after a clash with her mother. 'Arielle the nurse' strides back out into the hallway and approaches the teenager with a certain guard. She holds something in her hands … her hands.

Rinoa looks at her almost scornfully again but holds back her tongue as the nurse begins to speak soothingly, "Before your mother passed away, she gave us this and told us to give it to her daughter. Are you Rinoa?"

"No. Fuck you." She wants to say but instead, she begins to cry as she sees, in the palm of Arielle's hand, a solitary steel band carved with her mother's initials. The cold silver ring is dropped into her hand and she stares at it, almost contemptuously. She looks back to Arielle's hands … ever so similar to her mother's hands. The contrast is almost non-existent as the nurse wipes away a tear from the grief-stricken girl, "As long as you keep loving her, your mother will live through you."

Lies. But they're the most comforting lies she has ever heard.

"I love talking to walls." The words seem a bit rich, it might be because of the voice they belong to. Squall's. She jerked back from the past and back into the crowded waiting room in the Deling hospital and the first thing she registered are those blue eyes, "Since your not listening, I assume I should complain now so I can hear you later - we've been waiting for half an hour in a crowd of stupid people with stupid injuries …" Those eyes wandered across the room, unaware that her attention (and others' attention as well) was now completely on his rant, "A guy … passed before us … had one of those sex toys stuck in his ass. His girlfriend made him do it. They thought it would be, what's the word? Oh yeah, 'exciting' … I never want to have sex again-"

"I guess I'll have to hold you to that." She snapped sarcastically, "What's your problem now?"

"You pick the best times to snap out of it." He growled contemptuously and continued to scan the crowded waiting room.

"So, this guy actually … um … had 'something' lodged in his …" She didn't know if she even dared finish her sentence.

"I don't know, he was walking like it, I assumed. Pity you missed it."

"You assume too much." She reprimanded and his gaze finally found hers.

"Do you know how bored I am? How long we've been waiting here or even why we're waiting?" He drawled cynically and leaned in towards her.

"I can imagine how bored you are if you're having private story-telling times with yourself, I know we've been waiting for a while but we're waiting for the kid so just shut up and act like you care, ok?" Her response was sharp and without sympathy.

"The kid looks fine." He jerked his head towards Arianna who had fallen asleep, slumped into the chair next to Rinoa, "Blissful even."

"Quit being such a total jerk!" Rinoa hissed, "She's hurt herself at the wrist and obviously she was doing some pretty scary hyper-ventilation in the car. Anyway, would it honestly kill you to be just a bit more compassionate once in a while? I'm not saying always because God knows that would kill-"

"Fine." He got up from his waiting chair and strode past the aisle of chairs and ill-infected people to the reception desk where a nurse was doing apparently nothing, "Hey, we've been waiting here for a good portion of our lives and I was just wondering if we'll get to see a doctor before the kid dies? Yeah, that kid in the chair … yeah, she's already in a coma, for Christ's sake, are you just gonna look at me? Come on, lady, we need a trained professional here, buzz an intern, a PHD-holder, who cares?"

"That child is just sleeping, sir, there are other cases much worse than yours and they're still holding on just fine, please sit down and myself or the following shift will call you." The nurse with horn-rimmed glasses croaked,

"Yes, I agree, there are cases much worse than mine … like that old man in the corner. He's much worse off than me … at least I'm still alive!" He was speaking loud enough for the entire room to hear now and Rinoa had hidden her face in her hands out of sheer embarrassment. When she had told him to be compassionate and act like he cared, she had never really assumed he would listen. "I'm not here to start some trouble or to be hauled out here by cops, just so you know, I'm here to get that kid a tetanus shot and some oxygen and then you'll never see me again."

A tetanus shot? Rinoa groaned and rubbed her temples. Was that supposed to be funny? Squall was still arguing vividly with the nurse in the background when Arianna woke up and looked around, straightening herself in her chair, "Squall's just making a fool out of himself, just a few more hours to go since he's pissing the nurse off." She muttered, unsure if she was talking to herself or informing the child.

"He's nice, he once lent me ten dollars so I could eat." Arianna replied monotonously, staring at her shoelaces.

"You've met him before?" Rinoa asked curiously, tucking some of the child's caramel locks behind her ears and trying to catch her eye. Her answer was a nod.

There was a moment of silence between the two and Arianna spoke again in a hushed tone, filled with sorrow and uncertainty, "Rinoa … is my brother dead?" Salty tears brewed in her eyes but she didn't want to let them fall.

It took a while for the adult to answer, unsure really of what to say, "Well, nothing is ever for sure so I really don't know. Maybe there's more to last night than what really happened." I didn't see anything, I didn't see anyone, I won't say. God, please, I don't want to be the one to make her suffer.

"It's ok … I know." It was a weak whisper with a trembling voice, "Everyone I love goes away in the end."

"YOU KNOW WHAT I really hate, almost as much as abstinence?" Irvine snapped as he stopped the car at a red light. He turned harshly to Ellone and stared at her.

She replied comically, smiling nervously, "You hate something almost as much as abstinence?"

"I hate it when she fucking does this to me! Never answering her home phone, never answering her cell phone, never telling anyone where the fuck she's going, disappearing for hours on end, does she not realize that I fucking care?"

"I'm sure she's safe and most probably with Squall so there's really nothing to worry about." She was saying this more for her sake than his. If anything had happened to her friend, she would blame herself endlessly. It would be her fault.

"Oh, that's another bastard I want to kill right there. Your fucking brother, goddamn, he didn't call back Caraway last night when he was sent to disrupt the meeting between Quistis and her assassin for Rinoa's death warrant so for all we know … fucking cocksucker!" Irvine swore a long slew of curses and then gunned the accelerator when then light flicked back to green, "I swear when I find him …"

SO SQUALL'S SCENARIO had gotten them a doctor … so what? Her feelings of absolute embarrassment and annoyance towards him had not attenuated much. They were still waiting, anyway, just in a smaller, less crowded room on an examining bench. And now, Arianna was getting restless as well. She examined the tools hanging from walls, the posters showing the circulatory system, the heart complete with the aorta, superior and inferior veena cava and everything else that Rinoa had slept through in biology class.

"Satisfied?" He asked with a cocky grin that she just wanted to slap off his face.

"Very. Now, when I go out to do my groceries, people can look and point at my and say, 'There's that chick that's with the weird guy … the one with the mental problems.' thanks Squall, thanks a million. I've always wanted to be recognized as a demented woman who houses freaks prone to violent acts." Rinoa seethed sarcastically, still slightly red at the ears. She heard footsteps just beyond the closed door.

The doctor threw open the door and one look at his clean-shaven face, steely gray eyes, strong chin and longish ebony hair left Rinoa begging for the sweet release of death. Of all the days, why … why today?

He smiled at the young patient on the bench and then looked towards the slim familiar figure next to the child, "Wow, Rinoa Heartilly?" His deep voice had grown an accent, probably from studying in Balamb for so long, either that or he might be acting fresh. There was a tag on his white coat with his picture that read, 'Dr. Lark Sullivan.'

Squall's face fell and he stared at her though she didn't return the eye contact. This worried him further. She was smiling. At him. "Hey, Lark, long time no see." There was no ring on his left hand. He knew her. His smile told Squall so. Ok, they knew each other, big deal. Doesn't mean they … you know … fucked in the back seat of a car … though that smirk of his tells me differently, little fucker, why does he have to be the doctor? And what kind of name is Lark?

"How've you been?" The more imposing man asked, not even glancing at Squall.

She shrugged and did her best to acknowledge his question as friendly conversation, "Not too bad, I guess, you?"

Who cares? Squall thought bitterly and crossed his arms, fixating his eyes on the big posters explaining in great length the urinary tract. Yeah, a great deal of 'piss off' was on his mind right now, it seemed rather appropriate. "Well, pretty good, just finishing off my internship so I can get my doctorate and-"

Woah, big words, deemed of an interruption, "You're not a doctor?" Rinoa turned to glare at him and he almost regretted his move but found himself returning the dirty look.

'Dr. Sullivan' looked to him and finally seemed to recognize his presence, "No, it's just my name tag that says so. Anyway, it takes a while to be an actual doctor." He smiled and turned back towards Rinoa, "Is this your daughter?"

'It takes a while to be an actual doctor.' Squall mimicked in his mind, Fuck you and keep your eyes to yourself while your at it, she's mine. "No, not my daughter." Woah, why so quick to deny, Rinoa? He now felt flawlessly bitter with a twinge of envious anger. A deadly mix, often served iced.

"She's just a random kid we found in the streets and the SPCA wouldn't take her in so we dragged her here." Oh, now I insult the kid when I want to hurt my girlfriend, I've sunk so low I can see the Titanic. Well, it worked. Rinoa was giving him the most vehement glower and Arianna was staring at him, looking wounded and uncomfortable. Squall Leonhart, emotional killer of little children, what would your mother say?

"Really now?" The intern asked, almost amused.

"No, he's just not particularly enchanted today, is all." Rinoa didn't look at Lark when she said those words, she was still busy melting holes into Squall's face with her eyes.

"Alright, so let's see what's wrong with you?" Lark smiled softly to Arianna. Fucking angelic ass, I bet you he steals old women's pills and kicks kittens down flights of stairs.

CARAWAY PACED NERVOUSLY in his rosewood-furnished study, clenching and unclenching his fists anxiously, wondering if he was waiting for the sky to fall. There was an unexplained tightening in his chest and his forehead was constantly doused with sweat, no matter how many times he wiped it with his sleeve. He glared at the phone, almost threatening it, "Ring, you damn piece of shit, ring."

Not for the first time in his existence, James felt like an invalid. Handicapped. Utterly useless to his daughter or her survival and safety. This angered him. No, this enraged him. He had witnessed her fall once and had merely winced at her broken wings and shattered soul … and now, would he stand by on crutches and wait for her short drop once more? He didn't want to. But she hadn't provided him with much of a choice in the matter. "Ring, bastard, ring."

In the next room, he heard the bustle of the maid dusting the fireplace mantle piece and chatting to her apprentice relentlessly in a language he could not understand. This fueled his headache and the puncturing pain behind his neck, Why won't she shut up and leave the silence to the ringing phone? Distinct peals of laughter erupted. Shut up, you damned broad, shut up! Finally, the phone obeyed and the two domestics fell quiet as James lunged for the receiver, "Hello?" He felt a sudden breathlessness and was under the impression that a school of piranhas were tearing apart at his chest.

"Mr. DeGracia?" Quistis greeted on the other end and James' heart sank. Oh for the love of Jesus this is it … my daughter's dead. He took a seat in his leather chair and shut his eyes for a second.

"Yes."

"I need to speak with you." Her voice was panicked, frustrated, almost weak.

"I'm all ears." That was a lie. He wasn't. In fact, he had more interest for the map of Esthar that was framed and hung on his wall more as an art piece than as a reference. He didn't want to hear what she had to tell him.

"In private." She specified with traces of resent.

"Well, there's no more private than a phone line, my dear." Caraway replied lightly.

"Sir, I'm not in the mood for games." Quistis snapped at the other end, "How long have we been allied? Do you not trust me? What's the problem? So I may fix it to your liking. I attempted a bargain with a hitman named Tsang last night. Something went terribly wrong. He now thinks we have made a direct move on his life, which is utterly false, it was obviously the workings of a third party. I suspect Almasy as I've recently cut threads with the idiot but now, I just need your help."

Relief. But it did not wash over him like he had expected it to. The pain remained and he felt a constant shortness of breath, "What was the bargain deciding?" He still had the strength to play along.

There was a silence and Quistis admitted hesitantly, "Rinoa Heartilly's demise."

"Of course." Caraway acknowledged softly, like a parent reprimanding his child he continued, "Your chase for revenge proves to be quite fruitless, do you not find? I don't understand what Miss Heartilly's done to you to stir such a vast amount of hatred and I don't understand why you try, time and time again to rid yourself of her. What threat does she pose to you?"

Quistis interrupted viciously, "None, I just don't like her face and I want her dead, is there something wrong with that? No, of course not. I hadn't thought so. Sir, with all the respect that I owe you, are you a friend or are you not?"

"Friends … allies … those are two different words and you cannot use them interchangeably, Quistis. How long have you lived in this city? And why have you not learnt that vital lesson yet? A friend is not an ally. And an ally is definitely not a friend. You understand? This relationship is carried out in a business-like manner where friendship is ludicrous and unimportant." God, the pain … why wouldn't it leave him? "I am not your … friend, Quistis, I am your ally and I must say that as your ally I do not support your tireless chase to have one person removed from the picture. I rather like Heartilly as competition myself and I find it quite amusing to refuse for her planes to land on my runaway. You waste your time. You and Diabolos. I will not support you in this. Is this all you needed to ask?"

There was an indignant silence when finally, Quistis replied, "No, that's all really, thank you so much for your help." The bitter sarcasm didn't even faze the recipient, "Until next time, Mr. Degracia, your council was a pleasure." She hung up quite snappishly and Caraway did the same. It was then that he noticed the maid, Sophia in the doorway, awaiting his attention.

"Yes?"

"Sir, my assistant and I have finished up here for today." She spoke in her ghetto accent that had always really irritated Caraway. Accents are supposed to refine an individual, not strip him of the respect he may deserve.

"Of course …" He wrenched open his middle desk drawer and took out an envelop containing a check, "Here you are." The pain suddenly erupted from his chest in a fit of firework proportions and the maid instantly knew something was very wrong as he recoiled back into his chair and gasped for air, "I'm afraid I'm not feeling quite well … could you … would you please call …"

The maid didn't wait for the end of the sentence to grab the phone and dial the emergency services. Caraway looked towards the ceiling clutching his heart as the acute pain mercilessly devoured his chest.

THE DOCTOR HAD left with his diagnosis and promise to return with a solution to the problem. Squall felt an intense lift of atmosphere at his departure and he used this newfound comfort to attempt a joke, "Wow, Rin, a doctor? I would've never even thought about it. How difficult was it to go down a grade … from a medical student to a part-time nothing like me?" A cruel, uncalled for joke, but a joke nonetheless.

A joke that she found no humor in, "Don't … make … assumptions." She managed through clenched teeth and crossed arms. Arianna just sat still on the examination table, perhaps too afraid to break the secret duel between the two adults.

"How am I making an assumption this time?" He asked haughtily, hands in his pocket, leisurely leaning against the wall.

Rinoa didn't answer him, she only scowled and announced, "I'm going to get myself a coffee, do you want anything, Arianna?" She looked to the child who merely shook her head. Rinoa turned to Squall, failed to offer him anything but instead said, "Can I trust you with the simple task of waiting for Lark to return?" She used his name, applying an unnerving sense of familiarity with the doctor to inject a maddening dosage of rage into his veins and, without even waiting for his response, she left the room.

Squall could have thrown something at her. The stethoscope … the box of wooden sticks … of latex gloves, God, anything, "I'd like a coffee too, please, ok? Thanks!" He called after her angrily, seething. There was an awkward moment's silence as the door swung shut and Squall remained alone with the child.

"What's going to happen to me?" Arianna asked him, obviously preoccupied by much more important things than coffee and lovers' spats.

"The hell if I know, kid." Squall snapped, not meaning to but out of natural reaction to questions like these.

"Are you scared?" Arianna asked, hugging her knees on the table, peering over to the figure that was leaning on the wall, arms crossed and eyes fixed on something on the floor, "I'm really scared."

"What the hell would I be scared of?" Squall answered with a hint of annoyance. Bloody kids and their stupid, random questions. He didn't even turn to look at her or offer her some form of comfort. Who does she think I am? Her father? Then he added, if only perhaps to impress her, "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Don't lie." Arianna accused sharply, her eyes determined and harsh. Squall bit his lip to keep from replying something nasty, I'm not lying, you fucking brat, just shut up and content yourself that I don't have the heart to throw you out of a damn window… actually, it's not because I don't have the heart, it's because there are no fucking windows in this room! "Liars are the ones that are the most afraid of anything! Everyone is afraid of something, and I've already seen you scared anyway …"

Squall finally turned and glared at the child and snapped ruthlessly, "Here, kid, now I'm gonna say something and let it serve you to the end of your days … don't make suppositions about people. I'm twenty-four … what're you? Five?"

"Six." She corrected viciously, still staring fiercely at him.

"Whatever." He drawled and went on, "I know more things about life then you may ever be brave enough to find out, little one, so sit tight and shut up."

There was a contemptuous silence that Arianna broke with a haughty proclamation, "You were scared at the restaurant … when I first met you … you were terrified, I could tell! When I told you that Irvine and Rinoa were at my brother's dojo, you were scared that she loved him more than you. You were scared 'cause you like her and you thought she would never want to be with a meanie like you!"

"What are you?" Squall hissed through clenched teeth, "My psychiatrist? Shut the fuck up, you little shit! There's a misconception between afraid and plain out pissed off, and that time, I was plain out pissed off!"

"When people like you are angry, it means they're scared. They're angry at themselves for being afraid and weak and that's why they yell and scream … to hide it, to look like they're brave but really, they're not. Now, see, you're angry … you're yelling at me to be quiet 'cause you don't want to know the truth, you're just scared to admit that I'm right."

Squall glared at the child menacingly and Arianna was actually worried he would hit her but he restrained himself and she took this occasion to continue, "And you're afraid of the doctor … 'cause you know he's so much better than you and that Rinoa likes him, every time you look at her you're afraid because you know that if she leaves you, you won't be able to do anything. You're like my brother with Selphie. Maybe I'm not a grown-up yet but I know when people are scared. And you're probably the scaredest person I've ever met. Well you know what? You have reason to be scared … because if you keep acting like a total meanie, everyone will leave you … you're like a big bully, and every once in a while, bullies get beaten up."

"And you, you're like the little know-it-all shit that understands nothing and every once in a while, little shits get beaten up too. Now shut … up."

"Just between you and me … which one of us has more to lose?"

There was no time, nor an answer to respond to that question as the doctor Lark entered the room once again and asked, "Hello … where did Rinoa go?"

"I was hungry, I ate her. Didn't she mention my strong cannibalistic urges?" Squall retorted sarcastically, "But don't worry, doc, I'm sure I've got enough brain cells left to comprehend what you're about to tell me."

"Actually," A voice came from beyond the door that made Squall flinch and curse under his breath, "I'm right here, I just went to get coffee for myself and Hannibal Lector over there." Rinoa pushed through the door and practically threw the hot cup of coffee to her inappropriately behaving boyfriend. Her timing today was nothing short of impeccable.

"Right …" The doctor mumble, flustered under the heat of Squall's overbearing glare, "So where to begin …"


Author's Pointless Rambles: I believe this will be the last chapter of this fanfic. No, it's not some joke or a ploy to rake in the reviews. I've been thinking about it over and over and finally, I've made my decision. I don't think it's a decision anyone can counter despite what they tell me and I really have to apologize. I didn't want to do this, in fact, I'm hating myself forit but I think it would be better for me if I just stopped. In case any of you are angry, I've deemed you all worthy of an explanation:

I've been having a rough couple of months. No, this isn't the part where I bitch and moan about my life but I'll just state the facts: everything has been shit. I don't even know where to start or go with this reason, but I just hope you can acknowledge it and to a certain extent, understand it. It's a really horrible argument to dump this whole project, actually, but I can't do much about that.

Relationships, important ones, have fallen apart and the ones remaining either have little meaning or dangle by some remote thread that I want to cut either for my own good or their's. I've also realized my immense comfort in things that hinder my personal health. No, not drugs. Worse.An imaginary life with imaginary friends and imaginary situations takingplace in imaginaryplacesand to be fair, I don't think it's very funny in case you've exploded in giggles.

I think it's time I pick up the shattered pieces of reality, pieces that I broke myself and I don't think I can do that with Squall and Rinoa. I don't think I can do that with Devil's Playground.

I will continue to write, and consequently, I will continue to live. No, it's probably not the other way around, sadly. It's probably important to mention that these characters were never mine and never will be mine but they were me. I think I put a little bit of me in Squall, in Rinoa ... but Ellone, most of all. I hate her. She's absolutely worthless in the game. And yet I model her role in this fanfic to my personality. Ironic? Perhaps.

I want to thank everyone so much. Those who've been following me for the past few years while I burdened with my amateur writing skills, you've all helped me in some way to direct this sad, windswept human and I know it's difficult to believe, but it's the truth. Those of you who've just found me out, your encouragement has done more than words can express. Thank you ... thank you ... the eight-lettered saying could never be enough and I'm so sorry.

Who knows ... maybe I'll pick this up again in a few months after the war has finished ravaging, after the storm has died down. Who knows. I'll be honest and express my heavy doubt but who knows.

I'm ashamed to leave this work unfinished but it really is something I have to do.

Thank you all, merry Christmas and the best wishes in the New Year.