Chapter 2: Dark Masquerades

By: Miss Antagonist/Darkness Daresay

I haven't posted anything recently 'til now. I've been working on this story for a few months but I haven't had the guts to post it. It might never get an ending, reviews would be helpful. :D But anyway, I'm still working on it. Read&Review

…………………

"Squaaaaall!"

I woke up at the edge of a mucky water bank… seawater soaking my aching legs; my arms, bruised and battered by a seemingly high fall of a nearby sea cliff; a throbbing in my head… and the shrill voice of Rinoa's haunting screams still ricocheting in my deserted mind.

So I hadn't forgotten about her this time.

It felt strange… to feel the after pains of a death that had passed so long ago, and only now realize that she was truly gone. I felt more numbness than I did pain this time. It was like my brain had refused to function because the only thing it would think about was the one thing you didn't want to think about.

It was like a really, really bad hangover.

Apparently, night had passed over me while I was unconscious. I recall drifting in and out of consciousness again after waking up. The sky was dark and starless. The full moon starred as center of attention. The light I got from it was scarcely enough to make out silhouettes and shapes in the shadows of the forest.

I heard the howling of wolves and listened to the silence. Painful thoughts trickled in and out of my mind and made feeling better a hell of an impossible option. I stopped trying to ignore them and just decided to shut my mind off the matter completely. After an hour or so, I got enough sense to pull my upper body up. I used my right arm to keep myself upright but then fell down again when I felt a powerful jolt of pain run through my arm. After that I felt like it was purely numb. I knew I had probably broken it one way or another.

"Shit." I muttered. This time I used my left arm to hold my up and slowly pulled myself to my feet. Luckily, it seemed that it was only my arm that was hurt… badly.

I placed my arm on my ribcage and walked away slowly, unfortunately the numbness was rubbing off, and the screeching pain that replaced it was no better comfort. I held on to the cliff that I had seemingly fell off and tried to feel my way to a path going back up. The moon had darkened and so I couldn't find one.

"Damn…" I walked around the cliff for a few times and found a place I could climb up on… if my arm wasn't hurting like hell. After about half an hour of searching, I sunk to my knees and leaned back.

"…You passed it."

My mind shot back to life as I heard a sultry voice from out of the darkness. It was only vaguely familiar, like a swiftly passing half-formed thought, low and hoarse; he spoke as though he was rasping for his words. I looked blankly into the forest. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and a faint figure emerged.

"The exit. You passed it five minutes ago. …it was the grassless path." The voice told Squall. "…Keep your eyes open when you look for something."

"Who are you?" Squall demanded to know.

"…A friend? A stranger perhaps? Someone who knows your story, Squall."

"…" Squall said nothing, and glared cautiously into the darkness. The figure became more concrete, and the silhouette of a hooded stranger was seen. Squall reached impulsively for his gunblade, only to find that he had left it at Balamb Garden.

"Don't bother going for your weapon, Leonheart." The voice laughed. "I'm only here to help you…"

"…I doubt it. How do you know my name? How do I know I can trust you?" Squall replied defiantly.

"You don't. But if you want to get back before that arm has you yelling for mercy on your knees." Squall felt a smirk in the darkness. "The path is up this way." The muddy grass rustled and cackled, Squall followed the sounds apprehensively, seeing vaguely a path he had just missed before.

"I know about Rinoa." The unknown figure said.

"…what's there to know?" Squall mumbled angrily.

"You know what I'm talking about. You can't deny it this time."

"Yeah, well, what's it to you? Why are you helping me?"

"I just have information you might be interested in." The voice whispered, taking a few steps towards Squall. "Information about the sorceress… information about you…"

"…information I don't need to hear. I don't care." Squall breathed angrily, his voice low and husky.

"Information you want to hear, Squall." The figure countered. "…and we both know that the will for what you want sometimes overpowers what you need… we both know that."

The figure stood a few inches away from Squall, his or her face clouded over in darkness and mystery. The black cloak surrounding the silhouette was silky and also streaked with mud and scratches. Squall felt cold breath against his skin and as did the tingle of alarm… the familiarity of trepidation.

"Who are you?" Squall said unsteadily. The alarm in his voice indicated he was ready to strike, at any second, at the sound of a single word…

"It's not important, Leonheart. I know who you are." A laugh. A familiar laugh. Squall's memory prickled at a thought, and his apprehension came as an involuntary step.

"I know you… I know you." Squall muttered. "I don't know who you are now but… I will figure it out."

"Does it really matter now? Hell no, what matters is Rinoa. And the information I have… information about Rinoa's death…" Squall's throat tense on the last word and he glared at the figure, distrusting.

Squall felt something being placed into his palm. He looked down to see a small white envelope. His eyes strained to see what was written on it. There was a small emblem on it, and the word 'Leonhart' was carefully written.

Without a word, he tightened his trembling fingers around it.

The figure's face moved forward and Squall felt his heart jump and his blood boil as the icy breathing in his ear turned into words of guilt. "You couldn't save her."

Squall lunged for the figure in an attempt to uncloak him, his fists coming out into the air. But he fell on solid ground, to the sounds of human footsteps running away, fading away…

His broken arm screamed out to him in pain and the paper fell out of his fist and into the muddy waters. He splashed through quickly and gripping it even harder, crushing it into a ball.

Squall pulled himself up and yelled into the darkness out of pure emotion.

His face was red; his hand gripped around the envelope; his mind a mess of questions; his heart pounding into the silence… The questions were countless and his ache immeasurable.

And all he could do was start his long painful walk back to Balamb Garden.