Chapter 2

The Presidential Palace was eerily quiet during the day, empty of guests that usually came at night, when parties and conferences were held to the benefit of the President's schedule. Despite this, there were still nearly a thousand guards patrolling the palace halls and wall perimeters, eight hundred and twenty-three on staff at the moment, to be exact. There were four for every doorway, two inside and two out, and at least one at the end of every hallway. Flipping his I.D. out and smiling at guard number three hundred sixty-five, Seifer easily passed through the halls of the palace, as though it were his God-given right to be there.

The night before he promised himself he wouldn't interfere in business that wasn't his, told himself that it was foolish to jeopardize his own life to help a man that wanted no help. In the end, he realized he wanted to see Caraway fall almost as badly as his reclusive comrade. After all, he hadn't been a 'stray kid' until Caraway had decided that Mister and Misses Almasy were no longer of any use to him. He hated his parents for getting mixed up in that kind of life in the first place. Didn't they know where it would eventually lead? Did they think of that at all when they had a child? Still, what kind of man would he be if he didn't avenge them by at least helping to put Caraway in his grave? And of course, there was no way he'd let Leonhart have all the glory to himself.

A bit of reconnaissance work had scored him the details of the blue print location within the palace. In fact, when he had seen where it was hidden, he almost laughed. The hall where the hidden room was located was deep within the palace, and highly restricted. Even he shouldn't have been able to get in. Luckily, it wasn't far from the cafeteria, and most of the guards recognized Seifer from his days of gophering for the higher-ups, fetching the coffee and doughnuts, so they would let him by. He'd always made sure to make friendly conversation, to be as charming as possible, for just this sort of occasion.

In this closely guarded hallway, directly across from the entrance to the corridor he now traveled on, was a plain steel door, hidden beneath heavy burgundy curtains with gold trim that were exactly identical to the rest of the curtains down the hall. This hallway was empty, as even most of the guards were not permitted to know the location of the room, but every possible way in had been covered. He'd easily gotten past it all.

There it was, the curtain was directly in front of him now, all he'd have to do is...

"Excuse me," a stern yet feminine voice broke into his thoughts, just as someone stepped between him and his ultimate goal. "Who are you and what is your business here?"

He looked down to see in front of him a woman in a perfectly pressed and fitted navy uniform. Long golden bangs framed her face, the rest pinned up against the back of her head. Her sapphire eyes glared at him from beneath long lashes, resting expectantly on his face.

He smiled at her, instantly turning on his charm as if he were flipping a switch. "Well, hello there, lovely. I'm just passing through." As he did with the few guards that hadn't recognized him on his way in, he flipped his I.D. in front of her face and was about to close it abruptly when she caught it and read it more closely.

"Class C, Intelligence Department. Funny, that's the last place I'd expect someone like you to be. The hallway is off limits to anyone outside of Class A."

"Oh, and I suppose you meet those qualifications?"

She smiled, though it wasn't in the least bit pleasant. "I'm Quistis Trepe, head of the palace guard. I'm beyond Class A. Now, I suggest you leave before I decide to report you to the President himself."

"As you wish, ma'am," he replied, giving a wide bow before turning on his heel and walking away.

Seifer quickly made his way outside of the palace and down the street, walking several blocks until he came to an unoccupied phone booth. Inside, he slid a coin in and dialed the number he'd memorized a few days earlier. "Yes, I'd like to leave a message for room 224. Yeah... tell him, 'They're here'. Thanks."

'I'm... Glad I met you, Squall.'

He rubbed his forehead wearily, trying to drive that voice from his mind. It had been the first thing he thought about when he collapsed in his bed the night before, and the first thing to rise from the depths of his consciousness that morning. He knew it was just a voice, no matter how melodic and pleasant it had been, yet still, it seemed to haunt him.

"Why would anybody be glad they met me, anyway?" he murmured, staring out the window of the small restaurant where he'd chosen to eat lunch... the small restaurant that was across from the train station.

Of course the only reason he'd gone back to the train station that day was to check on those tickets again, and this time, he was successful in getting one. The fact that he'd hung around for almost an hour afterward... well, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. That it was around the same time he'd seen her the day before was sheer coincidence. Not that it mattered. She'd been nowhere in sight.

Squall shook his head. He couldn't afford to be distracted, even if he did have the time to spare. Women were nothing but trouble. It was an attitude that had been drilled into their heads since day one, a rule that had been adopted after the syndicate had nearly been destroyed by the police, all because a woman had suckered the information out of one of their top agents. Still, her smile, her laughter, it had seemed so sincere...

But it isn't, he reminded himself quickly. Even if she was just an ordinary woman, she'd run away the second she knew the truth about me. It's not worth even thinking about. I just wish her voice would leave me alone. This is what I get for playing the hero. If I had let the thief stab her, I wouldn't have this problem now. By that point, she hadn't said a word.

He knew it wasn't true. He knew that he couldn't have let her be killed like that, it simply wasn't his nature. If only he'd gotten away from her sooner, if only she hadn't been so persistent...

Every head in the room turned to stare at him as his fist made forceful contact with the wooden table where he was seated. He didn't notice, too wound up in his own thoughts. It was ridiculous to even worry about it. He'd just have to put her out of his mind and act like he'd never even seen her face.

After coming to this decision, he decided he'd head back to his hotel room and steer clear of the train station until it was time to make his escape. In the lobby, the receptionist called out to him and handed him a small piece of paper with the handwritten words, 'They're here' on it.

"It was a man, I could tell from his voice, but he didn't leave a name," she explained.

"That's all right," he replied with a nod. "Thanks."

He knew at once that it had to be Seifer. He was the only other agent of the Esthar syndicate that knew Squall was there. He'd just confirmed Cid's suspicions that the Balamb syndicate was moving in on their territory.

Squall tore the piece of paper into tiny bits before sending it to the Deling City sewers via the toilet once more. If Balamb's agents were here, there was no telling where they could be. They could even have someone on the hotel's maid staff, someone that would come in his room and go through his garbage in an effort to pick up any little bit of information they could. It was better if Balamb thought they were unaware, and he intended to keep it that way. He'd have to get rid of anything that held any incriminating information, including his cell phone, which had the number to headquarters stored in its history.

With a small pocketknife he pried the outer casing open and tore the wires loose and snapped up the other components. He threw the casing in the trash, flushed the smaller pieces, and threw the rest out the window. There would no putting it back together.

I don't know what's more of a pain in the ass... Balamb, or that woman...

To the untrained eye, City Hall was completely unguarded. Their security cameras were well hidden beneath the stone ledges around the outside of the building. The man in the dark coat near the entrance could have passed for a common loiterer, were he not wise to such tricks. It seemed overkill to put so much man power into guarding one little secret, yet, looking out over the sea of gray rain and dark umbrellas, it seemed nothing was to be taken lightly in Deling City.

It's only sprinkling a little...

The rain didn't bother him in the least as he sat on the bench across the street from City Hall, wondering how long he could sit there before the man in the dark coat got suspicious. In the time that he had been there, several cars had passed him by on the street, and he paid them no mind. He wasn't sure what it was, then, that made him look toward the nearby corner when a sleek, expensive black car pulled up and the door on the side opposite the curb opened up. Squinting against the distance and the raindrops, he could just make out a tall, blonde-haired man walking up onto the sidewalk and opening the door there. He too, opened up an umbrella, holding it over the woman he helped out from the car.

Squall's heartbeat quickened, unexplainably, at the sight of the long, dark hair that trailed down her back. It could have been anyone, any random woman, and yet his mind instantly thought of Rinoa. He watched intently as the man offered his companion the umbrella, but she shook her head, holding a delicate hand up in refusal. The blonde gentlemen then leaned in for a kiss, but at the last moment, she turned her head aside, offering him her cheek instead. His reaction was obviously one of anger, but she waved it off, quickly walking away, coming closer to Squall.

Squall averted his eyes as soon as she had turned in his direction. He certainly wasn't about to be caught staring. He hoped that even if it was Rinoa, she would just walk past him. Such was not to be.

"Well, imagine running into you here," that voice said, and he knew it would just be more words that would haunt his mind tirelessly. He thought if he ignored her, she would walk away, but instead, she sat down next to him. "It's a nice day, don't you think?"

"It's raining," Squall replied, momentarily forgetting that he wanted to avoid this woman and her enchanting voice.

She shrugged. "I don't mind the rain. Apparently you don't either, or you'd have an umbrella out like the rest of the people here."

"You could've had one," he returned, and inwardly cringed. He hadn't wanted her to know that he had watched her.

"My fiancé hates the weather here. He wants me to move away with him someday, but I've grown to enjoy the daily showers. I'm not so sure I want to leave." She turned to him, a wide smile on her face. "What do you think?"

"I think your fiancé would be very unhappy if he knew you were here talking to me."

"Hey, I'm an adult, I can talk to whoever I want," she huffed. "It's not like he owns me."

"If you feel that way, then maybe... forget it..."

"No, tell me."

"It's none of my business," he offered. "It's not my place to say."

She grabbed his hand from its resting place of his knee, and instantly his entire body tensed at the jolt of warmth that came with it. She didn't seem to notice his reaction, grasping his hand tighter. "You're one of those quiet guys that doesn't talk much, huh?" she questioned, leaning in close to him. "I know what you're saying, though. You were gonna say that if I felt that way, I shouldn't marry him, right? I can read it in your eyes. I understand. It's not like I go around talking to strange men all the time."

"Really," he broke in, yanking his hand away with some reluctance. "You seem to be making a habit of it."

"Believe it or not, you're the first. It's all your fault anyway."

"How is that?" he questioned, scooting back from her.

"I feel drawn to you," she admitted, that calm, serene little smile still playing on her lips. He wasn't sure what the expression on his face at that moment looked like, whether it was one of fear, or surprise, or a million other emotions he might feel. Whatever it was, it made her giggle. "No, seriously. It's your fault for not talking to me the other day when I first met you, and for being here now."

He shook his head, hoping to clear his mind of his initial shock at her words. "I did talk to you that day."

She rolled her eyes. "All of about three sentences."

"There was nothing more to say."

Rinoa's watch beeped again, and after checking the time, she turned back to him with a smile. "It looks like I'm going to be late for work because of you. The least you could do is walk me there."

"Because of me? I didn't even acknowledge you, you came and sat down-"

"All right, all right," she laughed, standing up from the bench and attempting to pull him up as well. "Just walk me to Deling City Hotel, okay? It's not far from here."

He frowned. "What do you need to go there for?"

"I work there, downstairs in the bar, actually. I play the piano and sing, occasionally." She cocked her head to the side, a grin curving her lips. "You should come watch me tonight."

Every muscle in his body urged him to say yes, but instead, he replied, "I have other plans."

Her face fell instantly, the smile gone from her lips and the light now absent from her eyes, like a child who had just been denied their favorite toy. She released his hand, allowing her own to fall limp at her side. "I see. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" he sighed, averting his eyes from the heart-breaking disappointment on her face.

"For bothering you. I thought, for a moment, that you were different from everyone else here." She turned away from him, staring out into the constantly shifting mass of pedestrians that marched passed them. "Sometimes, when I look at them, it occurs to me that they are nothing more than mindless drones whose purpose it is only to exist, and nothing more. Only to be, but never really live. Even my fiancé is like that sometimes. He's never once come to see me perform. He always says... that he has other plans," she explained without turning to face him.

"So you thought I would be a replacement for him?"

"No, of course not," she answered quickly. "I just wanted..."

"He could have driven you there," Squall interrupted. "Why did you bother getting out to walk?"

"I didn't feel like being separated from the world by a plate of glass. There's something much more real about walking. I just thought..." she allowed her voice to trail off, peering at him through the corner of her eye. She was saying too much, and she barely knew this man. She was on the verge of spilling out all her fears, things she'd never even told her soon-to-be husband, to this man that didn't seem to care at all. "I'll go by myself, then... like I always do."

"So basically you're searching for something to prove that you're alive?" he asked, the words bringing her to an abrupt halt.

She turned back to him, an indecipherable look passing over her features, which were partially obscured by the thick midnight bangs that fell carelessly over her face. When she looked at him like that, with her head cocked to the side and her eyes glittering thoughtfully... when she looked at him like that, it seemed she was peering straight into his soul.

"Maybe," she said finally. "Maybe, all I want is to feel alive, to know that all this is real. In a place like this, day after day of all the same, fake people with the same fake smile... maybe I just want something or someone to show me that I'm not like them."

"So you'll define who and what you are by someone else?" he asked disbelievingly. "What happens when that person isn't there anymore to prove to you that you're alive? Will you just lay down and die?"

He was so certain she wouldn't have an answer that when she did reply, he was startled. "If that person was the real thing, then just the memories of having something that was real like that will remind me that I am, in fact, alive, and I won't take it for granted. So... what do you have to say to that Mr. Know-It-All?" she wondered, her seriousness making way for a more frivolous tone. "You're speechless," she giggled, then offered a delicate hand to him once again. "So you might as well walk me there, anyway."

"I guess..." he began quietly, so low that she almost didn't hear him, "that it couldn't hurt that much... just to walk you there."

She took his hand for the second time that day, and her serene, ethereal smile returned. "Maybe... you're not like them either..."