Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VIII or any of the characters! Yay for poverty!

A/N: Wow, its been a while since I've updated this story. But guess what people, I finally wrote an outline for it! At least it's an outline in progress (still needs some touch ups). So hopefully, unlike my other stories, there will be points to everything! And the chapters should be longer too! Double yay!

I changed the last chapter just a bit to fit within the outline. I'll tell ya'll now so you don't go reading it for no reason. The two little OC characters I had? Yeah, remember those creepy guys at the end of the chapter? I killed them. With a pitchfork. And I birthed Kiros and Ward in their place. That sounds pretty disturbing.

So basically, everything is the same, even the conversation... but alas! The characters are the only things that have been changed!

Anyway, I'll be looking forward to feedback! Remeber kiddies, there is now a point to everything!

Chapter 5: Faltering Nations

The hotel curtains did little to shade the morning glare and prevent the curses that escaped Squall's dry lips. The SeeD rolled over, pulling the mass of covers along with him. His eyes cracked open as he glared menacingly at the digital clock that read 7:06.' He gave a throaty sigh and resisted the urge to stuff his head into his pillow and scream.

Just a walk down to the piers and I'm out of here...' he mentally repeated to himself as his body struggled to get up and off the mattress. He shuffled his way to the bathroom and proceeded to take a shockingly cold shower and arrange his few belongings.

The shower was short and sweet, Squall not feeling he deserved a moment more of being drenched in the icy water. He exited the bathroom and grimaced as a flowery scent followed him out into the room. Hesitantly, he ran a hand through his dripping hair and brought the fingertips to his nose. Damn shampoo.'

BBBBBB

Squall walked down the few hotel steps and breathed in the refreshing salt air. It gave him a giddy sense of freedom, yet it only caused his demanding bonds to become more obvious. His eyes closed momentarily as he tried to forget the strain on his spirit and let his mind wander away from the pressure and stress of his daily life. A distant fog horn roared and immediately woke Squall from the day-dream. He furrowed his brows and scanned the city plaza for signs of life, and oddly enough, none were to be found. Strange, even at this hour, for the people of Dollet to refuse the morning's welcome and roam the streets for early bird specials and untainted air. Squall had been assigned visits to Dollet many a times, but he could not recall seeing the streets so empty, especially this close to the district of shops and commerce.

The SeeD wandered down a cobblestone sidewalk, gazing subtly into shop windows and houses. His frown deepened when he saw few residence in each and most doors hanging ajar and forgotten. Squall made his way to the half-hidden pub, which still flickered with some human existence.

Inside there was a thick haze of cigarette smoke and dour moods. Few people sat relaxed in corners, empty beer bottles clustered on tables in front of them. Squall walked up to the bar and took a seat at a stool near the end, catching the barkeep's eye.

"Squall!" hollered the burly man, grinning from ear to ear. "Why are you in here? A little early to end yer day, no?"

The SeeD shot the man a pleading look and sighed with exasperation.

"Ahh, I'm just pushin' yer buttons now aren't I?" laughed the barkeeper. "What am I complaining for anyway? Business is business. So, what'll it be? The usual?"

Squall shook his head and rested both elbows on the faded wood of the bar. "Just a beer, please."

"Yes sir," smiled the barkeep with light jest. He set a mug in front of Squall, the beer's froth surmounting the mug's capacity and flowing freely over the rim and onto the counter. "Save me the sob-story Squall and tell me something I don't know, will ya? Cus I know it's coming."

"You know all there is to know," Squall gripped the icy handle and brought the edge of the mug to his lips, sniffing lightly. "The quality of this crap is only sinking, Sampson. I hope they open a new bar before you start selling water."

"Well aren't we a little grouchy," Sampson wiped his hands with a towel and leaned against the counter facing Squall. "But when aren't ya then?"

"I'm tired of being chained to this," Squall took a long swallow of the liquor. "This... this job and how much meaning it has to me. Hell, what did I do to deserve this, right? Shouldn't a man be free to choose his own fate?"

"I told you Squall, that I'd be hearin' that same story one way or another. Guess there's no preventing it then. Listen buddy, just because you confide in me doesn't mean I'm always open ears. Shit, that's why I give you a discount on my goods... so you can go cry on someone else's shoulder.

"But you're probably not here to hear me rambling either. That's why I don't tell ya," Sampson took a long look at Squall's miserable face and thought better of how to make a light atmosphere. "Well, you young people do have a lot more to do these days than I ever did. I'm not going to pre-judge you Squall, but stop moping and I think life will be far better for ya."

"Ah, bullcrap," Squall finished his beer and shoved the empty mug away bitterly. "If I start looking up, I'm bound to trip somewhere along this road that has been layed out before me. I would have thought he's done enough to ruin my life."

"You make up your own life, young sir. I don't think you realize that. And when you do, I'll treat ya to the whole saloon here. Besides, somehow I think you've got the whole perspective on things wrong," the bartender shook his head sympathetically. "Don't misjudge what I'm tellin' ya, but I think you're just afraid to admit what really happened. Aren't you? And you and I know damn well that if you're stubborn ass wants to control your own life bad enough, nobody is stopping you!"

Squall shot the barkeep a deadly stare, then lowered his eyes to the mug, shifting and waving it at Sampson. "One more," he said lowly.

"Uh-uh, not this early. Something tells me you still have a day ahead of you... and going through it drunk won't make the sun any brighter. Well... maybe it will... but that's not the kind of brightness you want. Trust me.

"By the by, young fella, word from earlier this mornin' is there's some ruckus going on down at the docks... your kind of platter. Now get outta my bar and I don't wanna see you until the sun is gone."

Squall knew he was right, for he himself still had the inspection to get through. But as soon as that was over, there were many things needed to be forgotten... even if for just one night. No, more than one night. He would need his toes to count how many evenings he'd spent drunk in some bar, just within the last month. It was almost disturbing how close he was becoming to the bartenders of each and every city he monitored.

Squall nodded absently and took his leave from the pub. Once outside he paused by the door and fished around the inside of his coat pockets for a pacifying collection of cigarettes, but stopped when he drew out a crumpled piece of paper.

The message from last night. Shit.

If people could only learn how to elaborate on subjects, this vague note included, then life could be steered with so much more ease. Instead, Squall had no idea what he was up against or why it seemed so important that he leave in haste. He snorted distastefully and shoved the note back into a random pocket, beginning his trek down the street and forgetting about the cigarette he had so craved moments before. Too many things clouded Squall's head for him to think straight, apparent in his shifty attitude and indecision of late.

The political system between the Gardens were wavering, disrupting the balance maintained between the military apex powers and competition of trade routes in the city zones near the Garden territories. Balamb sat atop from the crow's nest of the Garden delta and usually oversaw from a harmless viewpoint in which it never disturbed or was disrupted itself. However, Balamb's footing had somehow slipped, for reasons that only the Garden headmaster seemed to know, and the fragile relationship between the island-Garden and the other two had become jeopardized. The situation was currently in no means of a threat or was even threatened at the moment, but underground stirrings and revolts were beginning to conspire for some sort of final blow of which none of the Gardens could determine the full outcome of its velocity.

Somehow, unbeknownst to him, Squall had grown to be the center knot of the whole situation, or at least some vital recipe in the quivering interactions. His young intuition pushed him to be sought out by the highest of orders to carry out tasks that should have regularly been beyond his capability and maturity level. But the importance of the relationship and shouldered guilt prompted Squall to keep his mouth shut save the occasional Yes sir,' which only further demonstrated his potential to fulfill the demands of not only Balamb Garden, but all the Gardens.

Esthar had not escaped the interaction between the futile bickering of the Gardens, being one of the largest and most advanced cities commercially and politically. By such coincidence, Esthar had its share in being the fault of the initial conflicts. However, their leader was a worthy adversary as well as a political asset to every city within the Garden nations. Some years ago, during the falling period of the Gardens, confrontations and wars were as much heated as they were cold. Despite the worrisome quality and damage of a cold war, it could be much appreciated when compared to violent, open warfare, which is typical of any Garden in threat.

It had been mentioned before, but only whispered into the loneliness of foreboding nights to one's self, that the Gardens maintained their peace and restrained from crashing through the already faltering wall of companionship because they reigned supreme as far as military powers... and there were three Gardens. The unbalanced tip weighed upon the consciousness of the Garden headmasters, for the third Garden, whichever one might be so lucky as to be singled out, would doubtlessly ally with one or the other, depending upon the treaty's necessities and the requirement of resources available in a nation's terrain. The cold wars never stepped beyond their borders of violence for the fear that instead of being matched up against a single opposing Garden of equal power and probability of victory, there would soon sprout favoritism and twice as much of the opponent.

BBBBBB

Squall sighed irritably when two squabbling women pushed past him on the street and hurried down the beaten road. Something was definitely up, but how dramatic could it be for such a small town? The whole city would throw a fit if there was a single kitchen fire in a crumbling house in the older district. But Sampson was a man of no worries, and for him to suggest Squall's attention to something meant it was worth a look at least.

Up ahead the SeeD noted the docks and the empty piers as a mass horde of people clustered at the base of the street where the cobblestone met the wooden posts of a broken mast and brig, cleverly molded against the metallic border of the city's rims. Several ships swayed impatiently in the docks: two antique frigates, and one rusted bulk carrier, more commonly seen around Fisherman's Horizon and up north.

Squall's stride was no quicker upon sighting the apparent emergency. It was going to be another one of those days...

When the SeeD finally came within reach of some of the scattered public, he could detect their suspicious mumblings to one another. Men stood in groups of three or four, arms crossed, eyebrows quirked, all the while explaining the situation as if they had been the mastermind behind it. Women were grouped closer together in one pile, causing their conversations to mesh into one messy, skeptical, and nervous mount of gossip.

Squall approached with caution, for there was the distinct scent of fear among these people, and the sight of a SeeD could both relax and heat up the circumstances. Not that Squall was in any official uniform, but these people were close knit and Squall, despite his constant visits, would be clearly marked an outsider.

But nobody seemed to even notice Squall. He drew closer to the source of all the suspicion, squeezing past several groups to even get a glimpse. His eyes darkened and narrowed at the gruesome sight before him, for what he could see past the bobbling heads also trying to get a view was a murder of at least two people, both clearly attired in Galbadian military uniforms.

The hell is this?' he almost wondered aloud, beginning to forcefully get in through the curious citizens. In doing so he almost stumbled over another dead body, or at least part of one...

"What happened?"

Squall paused for a moment, looking to the assertive voice that spoke above everyone else. He frowned visibly when he spied the woman, strawberry -blonde hair pulled high on her scalp, posture imposing over the dead bodies, and brilliant blue eyes scanning the crowd for answers.

"Well?" she snarled, shaking visibly as she leaned forward to glare directly at a young man across from where Squall was still being swallowed by the throng.

"I... I don't know. They were here this morning when... when Captain Manson ca-came in," stammered the boy.

"And where's this Captain Manson?' What's he got to say about all this?" inquired Quistis.

"Right here," boomed a voice from behind, causing her to jump slightly. "And that's all there is too it, ya hear? I docked my ship this mornin' as I always do, carried the load with my crew into the stock rooms, then came back out and found these unfortunate souls here."

"Oh? That's a little ludicrous, don't you think? Especially from such a small city as Dollet?" Quistis turned, careful not to step on the bodies or blood in the process.

"And who might you be ma'am, to be askin' such intrusive questions, eh?" Manson crossed his arms, his burly face twisting into a frown. The crowd lapsed into silence. Manson was a large man, maybe in his late forties, but a diesel nonetheless. His smoky grey hair bristled from under a raggedy beany and busheled out at his chin and over his thin lips. His hazel eyes narrowed when he scanned the woman before him. "Say, you aren't one of them SeeDs, are ya?" his tone was dangerous.

Quistis swallowed and tried to keep her stature as strong as the bull she was confronting. "No, but what's it to you if I was?"

"Cus I want no trouble in this city, that's why! We got ourselves a nice, functioning, peaceful community workin' here and the last thing we need is those sniveling, mischievous, trouble-making, war-startin', ungrateful Garden folk comin' around here gettin' us in the middle of their own headaches." A few bystanders nodded hesitantly in agreement.

"Well this has nothing to do with Garden or SeeD," Quistis retorted. "I've spend the better half of a year looking for a cold-blooded murderer and I have good reason to suspect this is his doing..."

Squall's heart skipped a beat and he suddenly shifted to anew part of the crowd. Really?' he pondered. Just who is she looking for?' He raked his mind to remember the tidbits he had overheard back at Balamb Garden about the mass murderer who was becoming a political menace. This is just up my alley,' Squall thought miserably. He caught the fleeting desire to just forget he saw anything, but the obnoxious voice at the base of his mind laughed at such a rebellion.

The SeeD strolled stealthily into a gap between two people, giving him a closer perspecitve of the murder. By the looks of it there were two... and a half... dead. One body lay face down, the arms bent impossibly backward and twisted where the neck was snapped with force. There was no blood on this one. The others were merely a mass of limbs and organs. The third arm laying haphazard in a stream of blood gave away that there was a missing body.The lack of a head on the butchered corpse caught Squall's attention, but he let the thought go before he gagged himself. He wasn't usually queasy, especially around these types of things, but this particular sight gave him the urge to cry out in agony and rage. Squall let the panic in his heart rise, then fall before looking back to the scene.

They were definitely from a Galbadian base, but not from the Garden. What was the purpose of this? And was it whoever this impulsive woman was looking for that did it? Whatever side the coin landed on, it was bad news for Squall, especially if this made it to public news. It was never a blessing to find a murder, much less one with foreign officials on alien territory.

Squall sighed and fell back from the throng, still hearing the captain and the woman arguing over matters. The day had only started and it was already in the pit of hell.

I need a drink...'

BBBBBBBBB The Night Prior

Rinoa rubbed her temples as she sat in the bustling coffee shop. She sipped cautiously at the hot liquid in her styrofoam cup and studied the man across the table from her.

Irvine sat with his head resting in one hand and a folded newspaper in the other. His coffee lay forgotten in the center of the table as his eyes scanned the tiny print for any leads.

"Find anything?" asked Rinoa while blowing into her steaming cup.

"Mm," grunted Irvine. "Small city, small news. The front page is about an old lady finding twenty dollars in the sand behind her house. I mean, doesn't that just make you want to know what could be more exciting past the front page?" Irvine stole a glance at Rinoa's quizzical look and then laughed lightly. "But no, not really. I haven't found anything much except here in the gossip pages. See? It tells rumors of Galbadia tension with Deling."

"It does?" Rinoa's interest was piqued. "What's it say?"

"Why are you so suddenly into politics?"

"What's it say about Deling?" Rinoa ignored him and continued to demand.

"I just told you. That's all it really says. Tension causes public to worry about standings between Deling City and Galbadia Garden...'"

"Go on, keep reading."

"Er... Yesterday, Caraway refused the amiable offer of Galbadian officials to find an agreement in public affairs-'"

"What?" Rinoa interrupted. "No he wouldn't. He's been wanting that for years now. I mean, I thought he was. Or wasn't. You know, whatever the papers say you believe!" she laughed guiltily.

"Rinoa?"

"Yeah?" she asked bemused, as if she had been distracted.

"Is there something you want to share?"

"No..."

"Are you lying?"

"I don't want to share it, so no."

"Rinoa..."

"What?"

"Is there something I don't know about you and Deling City?"

"Of course not."

"I think there is."

"No there isn't."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Oh look, here comes Quistis!" Rinoa stood up with a sheepish grin and helped Quistis to seat herself, ignoring the glare that Irvine was giving her.

"What? Why are you being so nice?" Quistis slapped at Rinoa hands when she tried to smooth her shirt.

"I'm not! I'm always like this." Rinoa wanted to suddenly run away. She closed her eyes tight for a moment to regain herself. She had managed for months not to spill her secret about Caraway and her to Quistis and Irvine, and she almost blew it right now.

Rinoa knew they would find out sooner or later. She was actually expecting them to find out when they were in Deling, but it had been a lucky break to get away when they did. But here they were again, breaking in Dollet, within the Galbadian nation and all too close to Deling. Hopefully, there would be no visit to the nocturnal city this time around and they would take a direct route to Galbadia Garden.

She had prayed their group would check Balamb Garden next, seeing as how Trabia was in no way holding the SeeD they searched for, but rumors of Galbadia stirrings directed them back here. Maybe she could slip by without her companions ever knowing, for the longer she waited, the more dramatic the news would probably be.

"Rinoa, are you alive?" Quistis tapped her on the shoulder.

"I told you there was something up," sighed Irvine.

Rinoa flinched into reality. "Huh? What?"

"We were making plans for tomorrow when you totally zoned out."

"Oh, sorry... I'm just really tired."

Quistis arched an eyebrow. "I can see that. Why don't you go back to the hotel and we'll tell you what's up in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," smiled Rinoa as she stood, bringing her coffee to her lips again. "I'm sorry."

BBBBBBB

Rinoa was too exhausted to pause and enjoy the delectable scenery of Dollet in its twilight hours. Her eyes studied the intricate designs of the ground instead as her feet carried her none too slowly to the awaiting hotel.

Inside, Rinoa hesitated to finish and throw away her coffee cup. She took this time to scan the interior, but her eyes quickly rested on a single soul who stood with slouched posture by the lobby's front desk. She let her tired eyes roam the length of his form then let them settle on this piercing blue eyes, which shifted irritably from key to key as the woman at the desk fumbled for the right one. He had a scowl across this face, but Rinoa found herself having a hard time not admitting that that only added to his perfectly chiseled features. There was something almost familiar about him, but she couldn't quite place what it was.

Rinoa quickly glanced away when he turned her direction and she focused her eyes on a random painting on the wall. She suddenly felt very much like a ten year old again, tasting the danger of innocent flattery and infatuation. Why not,' she convinced herself, Not like I'll ever see him again.' Her chocolate eyes slyly directed themselves back at the man, who now appeared rather vexed with no attempt to hide his annoyance. His lips moved, but the voice was too low for Rinoa to hear. Instead she heard the lobby-lady's embarrassed chuckle and loud reply: "You know how it is with all these keys!"

Probably not,' giggled Rinoa to herself. She was amazed at her own brazen ability to size up this man across from the room. What was wrong with her? Since when was she like this? She never ogled men. Especially when they looked like the grumpy, conceded, aloof kind. But she still could drag her eyes from his sharp features, tossed brown hair, and lean form. Stop it!' she warned herself before hurrying up the hotel stairs to her room, stealing one last glimpse before he disappeared from her view completely.

In her bed, Rinoa laughed at how childish her actions were, and soon forgot what had caused her to act so in the first place.

BBBBBBB

"Wake up, you bear!"

"Mm Mmmm..." Rinoa shifted.

"Wake. Up!" Swoof!

Rinoa reached out and grappled for the pillow that had just been thrown rather harshly onto her head. "Whaaaaat?" she whined.

"Get up. We've got a long day and I want it over with ASAP. Besides, Irvine is running in circles downstairs like a dog to go get some food. And he might come in here if I tell him that I can't get you up..."

"Okay okay," groaned Rinoa.

BBBBBBB

"I could've stayed in bed..."

"What do you mean? There's lots you can do."

"Like what? Sit here? Gee, that is a lot."

"No, go out and ask around. That's what we're doing." Irvine grinned wide.

"Yeah, so I'll read that whole newspaper that you thought was so exciting last night!" Rinoa teased.

"All I know is that I'm tired of hearing you two bicker," called Quistis from down the street. "I'm going, so we'll meet later by the lobby. Bye!"

"Where's she off to so fast?" asked Rinoa, rubbing her tired eyes.

"The docks I suppose. She said she heard some woman going on about an incident down there."

"It figures that she'd run as fast as she could to get the juicy stuff. How selfish..." Rinoa crossed her arms.

"Listen Rin, I'm going down to the other districts. Feel free to join me, but I'm just asking for leads and checking other papers."

"Ah, no thanks. I'm not really upset about sitting around. In fact, I'll probably fall asleep in the coffee shop again."

"Okay then. Give me a call or I'll call you if anything is up, okay?"

"Sure." Rinoa watched as headed down the street and looked at her over his shoulder to wave. "Sure..."

Finally, now I can get some real answers,' She smirked and strode in the general direction of the pub.

BBBBBBBB

Squall swung the saloon's door open, stepping into the cool interior with a relieved sigh. Such solace could only be found here. He caught Sampson's eye when he looked up and noted the disapproving shake of his head.

"I told ya if you wanted something bad enough nobody will stop ya," the bartender grabbed a mug as Squall took his seat in the same stood as earlier.

"I did what I had to do."

"And what was that?"

"Took a nice walk down to the docks and back..."

"How bad was it?" Sampson asked timidly.

"Bad. You knew?" Squall grabbed the overflowing mug from the barkeeper's large hands.

"Only the rumors."

"Yeah..."

"So just bad?"

"No. Really bad."

"What kind of bad?"

"The kind that's bad for me... and Dollet... and the Gardens... and everything else that's spinning like a top right now as far as government issues."

"Ah," Sampson smiled sadly and began wiping the counters with a wet towel. "That is bad." He watched as Squall nearly finished his beer in one swallow then came to sit next to him. "Lemme get a look at ya, boy."

Squall turned his head slightly, scowling at Sampson. "I don't remember the definition of boy,'" Squall growled.

"Stop being a such a prick," the bartender ignored the daggers being shot at him. "I see a boy right here: childish, whiny, spoiled, and... drunk. Getting there at least."

"Whatever."

"Lose those circles under your eyes and you'll be more of a boy too."

"I didn't say I wanted to be a boy."

Sampson laughed. "Of course not! You hardly say anything-" Brightness filled the tavern as the entrance door was opened and closed. "Hullo Miss, can I get ya something?" the bartender stood up from beside Squall and moved behind the counter. Squall simply buried his head in his arms.

"Yeah, you can actually," said an overly pleasant female voice. "I'm looking for someone. He wears this symbol," she pulled out a wrinkled photo from her pocket. "Seen this anywhere?"

"Nope," chuckled Sampson. "And if I had, what reasons would I fathom to tell you?"

"Every reason," the woman's voice turned dangerous. "I've been searching for a long time now, and if you have any leads, you had better let me hear them."

What is with women these days?' Squall peeked out over his arm in dull amusement. The woman sat three stools away from him. She had long jet black hair, her shorter bangs hanging over her forehead and slightly in her eyes. Her features were soft and pale, but she held her expression imposingly while trying to intimidate the barkeeper. Squall moved his eyes to Sampson who, unlike the woman, was smiling broadly at her aggression and making jest of her assertiveness.

"Well," said the barkeep, taping a finger to his lips. "That just don't tell me enough. I really don't think you're ready to hear the truth."

"What do you mean?" Rinoa's voice lifted and she leaned over the counter. "You know then?"

"Now I didn't say that did I? I didn't mean to get you all excited!" his booming chuckle echoed through the nearly-empty bar. "Don't go assumin' now. But yeah, I might know something."

Here it comes,' thought Squall as he buried his head again.

"So spit it out already!"

"Hmm... I don't think you really want to know."

"Yes! Yes I do!"

"I just don't think you're pretty little face will appreciate what its worth..."

"Tell me. Now!" Rinoa slammed her hand onto the counter unceremoniously.

"Okay, if you really wanna hear it," Sampson leaned forward with a vicious grin. "I know that if you want anything out of this old man you're gonna have to take you round, conniving, arrogant ass outside and learn some common manners," he hissed between clenched teeth, baring them.

Rinoa stared at the man in dumfounded astonishment. She blinked her wide eyes and tilted her head slightly, wondering for a moment if she had heard the man right. "Ex-excuse me?" she closed her gaping mouth as her eyebrows began to pinch together.

"That's right, you heard it correctly. Now you don't seem to be improving much, so should I put it a little more blunt? Ready, here it is: Get outta my bar," his voice had dropped three octaves.

Again, Rinoa started at him, confounded. Who the hell did he think he was? "I don't believe you're getting this old man," Rinoa growled, leaning back to stand and reach into her coat. "One last chance. Tell me what you know and it better be something I want to hear."

Sampson stood up straight and snorted in disgust, closing his eyes and lifting his eyebrows in stubbornness.

Rinoa let her breath come out long and shaky before drawing her 1911 pistol from the inside of her coat. She ignored the pleading voice in her head telling her this was somehow uncalled for, listening instead to the taunting voice repeating that the bartender deserved this. Bastard. She extended the gun within his arms' reach, aiming it directly at his head. She took a deep breath when she saw absolutely no fear in his eyes as he stared back at the gun with equal intensity and disgust.

Rinoa swallowed, then firmly pulled the safety trigger off. "Where is he?"

"Hmph..."

"Wrong ans-" A hand had suddenly gripped her aimed gun, another tightening around her wrist, causing her to release her hold. She gasped as the pistol was suddenly reversed, aimed directly at her temple with a strong arm holding her firmly from behind. "Let go!" she squealed in sudden panic, beginning to squirm nervously. Her body was jerked into an even tighter hold, the her captor's body pressed fully against hers from behind, both her wrists turned up to her chest and held by one of his hands in a death grip. He pushed the barrel of the gun into her flesh painfully.

Rinoa grimaced, then frowned, obviously still trying to put up some sort of relentless façade, but her trembling form gave away all those indications. She felt the man's hot breath on the other side of her face and could clearly smell the freshly-consumed alcohol. Rinoa turned her head just enough to catch his fatal glare. It was him! The man from the previous night! She gasped in surprise at being on the other side of those demanding eyes. He appeared absolutely feral, unraveling her soul until she felt so small and insignificant under his stare. "You should have listened upon the first warning," barked Squall lowly so only she could hear.

"I-I'm sorry," whimpered Rinoa, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Yeah, me too."

"What do you want? Are you going to shoot me?" Rinoa chanced a glance, suddenly remembering how familiar he seemed. If only she could recall... "If you're going to kill me, do it now," she snapped bravely.

"And sink to your level of disgrace?" whispered Squall menacingly. "I don't think so." He suddenly released his hold, pushing her in the direction of the door. "But I think I will keep your toy," Squall frowned and put the lock back on the gun before slipping it into his coat somewhere. "Now leave for good before you ruin another one of my drinks."

Rinoa stood leaning against a table, watching as the man casually sat back in his end seat and pushed an empty mug toward the barkeeper, who grinned broadly and whispered something to cause the familiar man to grunt. Well, what are you waiting for Rinoa? A memorabilia of the gun he just stole from you?'

The girl shook her head to clear her rattled thoughts, then walked out of the pub, dazed and confused. A vibration in her pocket caused her to jump. A shaky hand reached to get it as Rinoa kept walking briskly down the street. Funny, she mused, as her hands tried to open the cell phone, that after having her life flash before her eyes, she was more stirred by how familiar that man was. "Yeah?"

"Rinoa, meet us at the hotel... we've found something."

"Yeah... me too," she breathed, closing the phone while staring ahead of her absently.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

A/N: Hurray for longer chapters. But I'm sure you noticed that that means loads more mistakes. Sorry bout that people! Read and Review!