"I don't get it!" Zell exclaimed.

Zell, Squall, and Irvine sat in the SeeD compartment on the train to Timber. They were about two hours into the three and a half-hour journey to the central train hub of the world, and were entertaining themselves with their mission folders. Squall sighed for the fifth time since they stared perusing their mission assignment "What is it this time, Zell?"

Zell picked up a page and started reading it "SeeD is hereby requested to protect the daughter of CEO Arne Darvin from whatever threats to her life which may occur. Your contract will begin on Monday at noon. "

Zell threw the folder down "So why aren't we starting immediately? If his daughter is in danger, it's not like its going to wait until Monday at noon to strike."

Irvine sighed "Zell, we have the information he gave us. I assume that if we start Monday, he has some sort of protection that he can rely on until then. "

"So then why doesn't he use them instead of us?"

"Cause were better?" Irvine smirked and did a dramatic pose to add emphasis to his words.

Squall looked up for the first time the entire trip "Irvine, shut up."

Irvine sighed and leaned back. The rest of the trip was traveled in silence, and it was dark by the time they arrived at Timber. They walked to the hotel and checked in. When they were settled in their room, they finally started to talk again. It was Zell who spoke up first "So what are we gonna do? We have a few hours to kill before we need to go to sleep."

Irvine piped up "I wanted to go see that new show that is being performed here. Oh... what was it? Mmmm... Ah yes, Chicago! It looks like its gonna be great!" Irvine grinned.

Zell rolled his eyes "Of course you'd like something dirty like that."

Irvine turned towards Zell and gave him a look of mock insult "Please! It looks classy!"

Zell snorted "Yea, low class."

Irvine glared at Zell for a moment "So what do you suggest?"

Zell grinned and held up a flyer. Irvine read it for a moment "A hot-dog eating contest?! You've gotta be kidding me!"

Zell sighed and looked at Squall "What do you want to do?"

Squall didn't even look up "...Whatever"

Irvine glanced at Squall "Come on man what do you want to do?"

Squall lay down on the bed, and covered his eyes with his arm "I'm gonna stay here and rest."

Zell and Irvine looked at each other for a moment and sighed. Zell stood up first and walked towards the door. "Well, if Squall wants to be a scrooge, let him. I'm gonna get meself all the hot-dogs I can eat!" With that, Zell walked purposefully out the door and closed it.

Irvine turned to Squall and asked him "Are you sure you don't want to come out? It will be fun"

When Squall's reply did not come after a minute, Irvine sighed again and left, quietly closing the door. Squall lay there for about twenty minutes just clearing his mind, and clearing through the jumble that his thoughts had become. He then considered his grief and why he was being so self-destructive. Everything always came back down to one inescapable conclusion: I love Rinoa Heartilly.

This brought back the pain in his heart, and he stood up. Squall walked to the window and stared out into the clouded night, thinking of nothing in particular, only of the ache in his heart that had become his constant companion for three years now. He remembered that final day with her, the last argument, and the plans he had like it was yesterday. Then he was chasing after her, on the road to Balamb City, and the child who wandered into the road. He swerved, loosing control of the car, and hitting a signpost. He recalled the excruciating pain of running two and a half miles with a broken femur bone, of the growing dread in his heart. Finally, he distantly recalled breaking down as he saw the train speed off into the distance, having departed only minutes before he arrived.

Squall punched the wall, and with his Guardian Force enhanced strength, made a small crater in it. He rubbed his now bruised hand, and walked out the door and out the front door of the hotel. He stood for a moment, then opened a pocket in his jacket to withdraw a cigarette pack. After lighting a cigarette, he stood for a moment and puffed on it, before starting off towards one of Timber's many bars.

The night was warm, and a slight breeze carried a cool draft across Squalls neck. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. It reminded him of that time Rinoa was giving him a massage, her breath playing across his neck and... Squall snapped back into the present. He hated how everything reminded him of her. He finished his cigarette as he came up on the bar. It was an old musty bar in the basement of a five-story building. Pulling out another cigarette, he lit it and walked to the door of the bar. Various odors assaulted Squall's nose even before he opened the door, most of them made the cigarette in between his fingers smell like a rose. He inhaled his cigarette again, and slowly breathed out, letting the smoke pile in front of his face, before walking into the bar.

Squall pushed open the door, and the smell that had assaulted him outside was now almost overpowering. For a moment he considered changing his mind about going inside, but he pushed onwards. He paused briefly in the doorway to take stock of his surroundings. The lighting was poor and cast a dark shadow over the bar. The tables, which Squall could tell had seen better days, were arranged haphazardly about the room. Here and there, bottles were scattered about on the floor, where they had been dropped and no one had bothered to clean them up. His eyes traveled to the bar that ran along the sidewalk. It was filthy and covered in dust and alcohol. The mirror behind the bar was so dirty that one could barely make out any reflection at all, and was cracked in several places. Squall imagined that many a bottle had been thrown against it.

Squall plopped down on one of the barstools, and was about to order a drink when it occurred to him that he was falling. He lay sprawled on his back for a moment, before it hit him that the barstool had collapsed. He picked himself up and gingerly set his bottom on another stool. When it appeared that this one would hold, he ordered a bottle of scotch from the bartender, and began drinking.

Irvine stretched his arms and opened the door to the hotel room. He was looking forward to sleeping, he had just seen enough skimpy clad women to satisfy even him, and he was exhausted. He pushed open the door and walked in. Zell was sitting on his bed nursing his stomach. He turned to Irvine with a smirk on his face "I can't believe you got Squall to go with you. I thought he'd rather die than see any show that you thought would be great."

Irvine looked confused at Zell "What do you mean? Squall didn't come with me" It was about this time that Irvine realized that Squall wasn't in the room. "Oh...no..."

Zell's face paled "He didn't go with you?"

Irvine grabbed Zell on the shoulders. "Zell how long has Squall been gone?"

Zell grabbed Irvine's hands and pushed them off "Ow, man, watch it. He wasn't here when I came in, maybe a half hour to forty-five minutes"

Irvine cursed and puts his hat back on. "Come on, we need to find him."

Squall turned his glass up, downing his fourth shot of the drink. He was not sure what the drink was, but it was a local brew and it was strong. He ordered another shot and looked around the bar again. He was the only person sitting at the bar, but a few of the tables were occupied. Two men were taking turns trying to get the upper hand on charming a woman who wanted nothing to do with them, while six people sat around a table playing an old style card game. What was it called? Poker? I don't remember. Finally, a man sat alone at a table, nursing a bottle of some form of drink, and from the looks of him, Squall did not want to know how many bottles he had so far.

The bartender arrived with his drink and Squall stared at it a moment. He knew he should not be out drinking, especially when he had to report for his first mission in more than two years, but the pain was still sitting in his heart. It felt like an old friend now, a constant companion that he carried with him wherever he went. He stared at the drink and was completely unaware that someone else had entered the bar and sat down next to him. A cursory glance told him that this complete stranger was no threat to him. Squall ignored the man and turned his glass up again.

"Hey Barkeep! Gimme a shot of Scotch and check this out"

The poker game stopped and the six men crowded around the newcomer as he pulled something out of his pocket. Cheers and whistles came up from the small crowd as they each saw the small object that was being passed around. A glance told Squall that it was a picture of some sort, freshly developed. The bartender came with the shot of Scotch and looked at the picture. "Is that who I think it is?"

The new comer downed his shot and smiled "Yep"

The bartender refilled the shotglass "On the house. You're probably going to get twenty thousand for that."

The man stood up and downed the second shot, then slammed the cup down onto the bar. Squall jumped at the disturbance, but quickly recovered. "twenty? more like 50! Pictures of Caraway's daughter are hotter than a flare spell!" Squall's mind took sudden interest in this. "The President's daughter AND a world wide celebrity, who is hiding away from the media?"

Squall stood up and took the picture. His intuition was right, it was Rinoa. She was wearing nothing but a bikini, and it looked almost like she was posing. "Where did you take this?" Squall knew Rinoa, and knew that this was not what it seemed.

The man took back the picture "Nuh-uh man, your gonna have to find her yourself. I'm gonna be rich!"

Squall grit his teeth and sat back on his stool. He ordered another shot from the bartender and quickly downed it. Squall was quickly forgotten as the crowd gawked at the picture.

"Man, she looks good!"

"Any guy who gets a hold of her would be stupid to let her go."

"I wonder why she hides from the media like she does."

"Easy, daddy doesn't want her 'activities' to get to the public. it would ruin his image."

Squall's head snapped around at this. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

The man who spoke smiled "It's easy. She'll go down on you on the first date!"

Squall was not sure what had happened next. Maybe the alcohol had finally gotten to him, or maybe he just lost his temper. It did not matter. One second the man was laughing, the next, he was lying on the ground with a broken nose, cheek and 4 red marks signifying where his fist landed.

Squall had to give the others credit. Their friend had not even hit the ground yet before they were piling on top of him punching, kicking and choking him. Squall's combat training, ingrained into him since he was 6, kicked in immediately, and he lashed out with his fists and legs in a furious, coordinated attack. Within three seconds, all of his remaining opponents had either backed off or lay on the ground injured. Squall stepped back as those on the ground picked themselves up and formed a circle around him. The man Squall originally punched picked up the broken barstool that Squall had sit on before and held it like a club. Uh oh....

The barstool swung at Squall and he ducked it, but a knee smashed into his eye and he saw stars behind his eyes. Next thing he knew his stomach was smashed by the barstool and he was winded and going down. He endured an eternity of kicks and punches, and suddenly it stopped, though the shouting had not. He looked up with his one good eye.

Zell and Irvine were suddenly there, hopping right into the fight. Zell jumpkicked, taking two down. Irvine grabbed one by the shirt and decked him. Squall stood up shakily and punched another in the gut, feeling satisfaction as he felt ribs snap.

Squall heard a thunk behind him, and turned. Irvine was clutching his forehead, blood trickling down past his eyes and nose from what he assumed to be a cut, while staggering back from the photographer, holding the bottle that the bartender was pouring from. Squall was rather amazed that the bottle did not break on impact with Irvine' head. His skull is thick enough. Squall smirked slightly at this thought, and charged the man from behind.

The photographer never saw him coming. Squall leaped and tackled him from behind, grappling him at the knees, buckling them.. When Squall hit, Irvine used the distraction to charge and tackle him at the chest. The photographer, already falling forward, had his momentum suddenly shifted the opposite way, and was slammed down thanks to Irvine's Guardian enhanced strengths. He landed head first on the ground and was immediately unconscious.

Squall was still picking himself up off the ground when Zell grabbed his arm and started dragging him towards the exit, with Irvine close behind. As Squall left, he noticed the picture of Rinoa, soaked by alcohol and ruined. A small - but visible - smirk slowly spread across his face.