Right and wrong are not what separate us and our enemies. It's our different
standpoints, our perspectives that separate us. Both sides blame one another.
There's no good or bad side. Just two sides holding different views.
-Squall
FIND YOUR WAY
Gilmahn slowly opens his eyes. His vision is blurry, but slowly comes into focus. The sun shines brightly into the small spare bedroom of the old ladies house. This is a relief to Gilmahn, especially since it had been overcast the last few days, if not the entire week. Despite the recent happenings, this bright morning raises his spirits some. He slowly lifts himself up and out of bed. He reaches over for his scimitar, grabbing it firmly, and attaching it to his side. He moves across the wooden floor, taking a few weary steps, before stopping and making a big yawn, stretching out his hands. When was the last time he had slept in a bed?
Moving to the door, he opens it slowly and carefully. He begins to move down the small staircase. The stairs creak despite much effort on his part. He was unsure of how tired Rinoa was, or the daily routine of the old lady, so he tries to keep it down. After making it to the bottom, he is not surprised at all to see the old lady already up in her kitchen, with a bright smile, cooking nonetheless.
"Good morning, dear." She says, scurrying about.
"Morning...Rinoa still asleep?"
The old lady stops suddenly and turns back to him. "Oh...I thought she was with you?"
"Huh?" Gilmahn raises a brow.
"I went to check up on her in her room, and she wasn't there..."
Gilmahn exhales sharply. "She's somewhere...alone." He moves swiftly over to a small table and grabs his bag from it. He begins to move to the door. "Thanks for everything." He then goes into a full run as he pushes open the door and sprints outside.
The old lady puts her hand up to try and get his attention, but he didn't notice. She moves to the kitchen window and pushes it open the best she can, and yells out after him. "Dear!"
A few moments later Gilmahn barges back into the house through the same door, he grabs a container off a counter, a piece of her 'world renowned' pie no doubt, he pats her head, and then rushes back out the door. Then she moves back over to the window again and shouts out, "You're welcome!" She smiles and goes back to her cooking.
Gilmahn panics, looking back and forth down each direction of the path they were on. He figures she wouldn't have gone back down where they came from, so he turns left and begins to run as quickly as he can down the small dirt path. Sharp rocks and tall grass border the path on all sides. He kicks up dirty as he pushes ahead with decent speed. He is unable to see much due to the grass and other obstacles along the road, and to the sides. After a few minutes of running on adrenaline, he begins to come out onto better ground, the grass height lowers, the number of rocks lessens.
The wind begins to blow harder, making the grass sway in various directions. Overhead, the nice sunny morning turns back to an overcast day. In the distance, he spots a figure. At first she is hard to see, but her blue attire becomes more and more apparent. He smiles a little, then turns back to a frown. "Rinoa..." He moves along the path quickly, though much slower than earlier in his trip.
Gilmahn makes it up to Rinoa, she sits on a rock looking at the ground.
"Hey..." He waits for a response, but doesn't get one. "Why'd you run off?"
"Because I bring a shadow with me." She finally responds, plainly.
"What do you mean?" He says, with obvious concern.
"The SeeDs are relentless. They will kill me and all those with me if I stay in one spot too long."
Gilmahn sighs quite audibly, taking a couple steps towards her. "Rinoa..." She turns on the rock, apparently to not face towards him any longer. Gilmahn notices her wings have changed to an unhealthy shade of charcoal, but ignores this for now. "I won't let that happen."
"Just like Squall wouldn't. But he left. They always leave."
"Squall cared for you. You cared for him. Your care turned into more. Funny how that happens sometimes, yes?"
"I don't understand."
Gilmahn realizes where he was about to go with that, and is glad she didn't catch on. He tries to get back on track. "Don't show them that sorceresses are the evil they say they are." He says, with a lot of confidence now.
"Why do you insist on lecturing?" She says back, bitterly.
"I'm not lec--" He gets cut off by a sudden outburst.
"I hate them! Why do you defend what they do!" By now, she had slowly turned back to facing him.
"I don't defend them, but sometimes we need to take the higher road, and be better than they are."
"Are you saying I'm not being mature or better than them?" She says, continuing with an angry tone.
Gilmahn stops trying to argue and just looks back at her. He stares deep into her eyes, she was clearly upset. But more than anything she looked exhausted.
"You didn't sleep last night." He says, completely breaking the flow of the previous conversation.
"A little." Rinoa almost seems to be pouting at this point.
"Tell me what's bothering you...please." He is almost begging at this point.
"Maybe I just need to be left alone. But it seems I can't get that either." She gets up from the large rock, quickly moving off the path into a random direction. Gilmahn just stands still, shaking his head slightly. More at himself than anything else.
I can't help her like Squall could.
Gilmahn slowly moves towards the rock Rinoa just departed from, kicking his feet against the dirt. He plops down on top of it and sighs. What was there to do?
The least I can do is grant her more private time.
Was she right? ... Yes. The SeeD would figure it out eventually. It won't be long now. The question is...what to do?
Kill her? What would that accomplish? Slay my best friend to appease them, then they would just continue on waiting for 'Ultimecia' to come. Or the other way, killing the SeeDs, that would just raise the paranoia. I already have the blood of one on his hands, anymore and they will be out for a lynching.
I have failed again. Why wont anything work? Maybe it is meant to be.
He raises his sleeve and presses it tightly against his moist eyes. He sniffs lightly a few times, sitting weakly on top of the large rock. He presses his arm up tighter as his eyes get more moist. Eventually he slowly wipes sideways across, sniffing a little more.
I can't give up this easily. Not yet.
No one can predict the future. There are no guarantees.
-Rinoa
