A Battle Of Land and Sea

Chapter Three

Leave me out with the waste,

This is not what I do,

It's the wrong kind of place,

To be thinking of you,

It's the wrong time, and if somebody knew,

It's a small crime,

And I got no excuse.

Damien Rice - 9 Crimes

There were an awful lot of flowers here. She stared at them dumbfounded for a moment, taking in her surroundings. It seemed strange, she had only intended on going on an early morning walk after having not slept so well. The air was cold and moist; the cold wind left her hugging her coat close to her for warmth as it played with her raven hair, teasing her with its icy fingers. She had never intended to bump into anything like this. She had gone for a walk to get away from all of this; she didn't want to be reminded anymore.

…Why did no one understand?

For a long time she stood entranced by the hundreds of flowers that had been delicately placed by the wall in the quad. She looked at them as if it were for someone else she didn't know, as if she could look down and wonder who the poor person this memorial had been created for. Of course she knew who it was for. It seemed that no matter how much she tried to get away from everything, to put it all in the back of her head for a later date where she might be able to deal with all of this, it always came back to slap her in the face. She tried to be numb from denial. Being the drug that stopped her from hurting inside, it subsided the pain somewhat. It stopped the agony she should be going through.

Today felt more surreal than the previous day. It was so simple to think of it all as just a bad dream that she was going to wake up from soon. It seemed too real, so convincing. But it was only a dream, wasn't it? The memories of the events over the last forty-eight hours where hazy and dull, she wasn't sure which was the bad dream and which was the reality anymore. Her mind shifted back to the phone call she had received the previous night, the horror that had come over her body at what might be. It felt so stupid now. She knew that there was some logical reason. Plenty of people could have his phone, she knew that. But still, she couldn't shake the feeling that… Don't be so stupid. Her mind drifted. She thought back to how the last two days had seemed like an eternity. Her shopping trip with Selphie seeming like a million years ago, back in a day when the biggest problem in her life was finding the perfect dress for her…

Her wedding…

She blinked, not focusing on the memorial in which she stood in front of. A lone student quietly placed a small bouquet of flowers to join the rest in silent wonder, giving her just the slightest glance of bewilderment and sympathy before walking away. His presence went unnoticed by the strange silent girl stood staring and deep in thought.

How the hell could she have forgotten about her wedding?

It was something that had dominated her life for the past few months and now she hadn't thought about it once. She had completely forgotten about it, about everyone. She had ignored her friends, forgetting about them too. There was just something about trying to have a happy celebration… it just didn't seem right anymore. How was she supposed to be excited about her wedding when her life had been turned upside down?

There were plenty of things that needed to be done before the wedding, the dress, her bridesmaids' dresses, catering, seating arrangements…the list when on and on. Just a few days ago they were a big part of her mind, following her thoughts from the moment she woke up in the morning and kept her awake deep into the night as she pondered upon ideas and what would look best. But there had always been one thing she needed to do that she kept lodged at the back of her mind the entire time, putting it off as if she had all the time in the world. And the cruel irony was that she didn't have much time left at all. She never invited her father. And now, no matter how many wedding invitations she sent, how many messages asking, he would never come. Ever. There wasn't going to be the father to watch proudly at his daughter, to see her grow and to blossom into the next stage into adulthood. There was no one to…

There was no one to walk her down the aisle…

The thought gave a sharp stabbing jolt in the pit of her stomach as the reality dawned upon her. Who was supposed to walk her down the aisle? Who was supposed to be the grandparent of her future child? To see her children grow and to spoil them? To help her with parenthood, with marriage, with life? How was she supposed to get through any of this alone? And suddenly a hundred thoughts and emotions came over her in a nauseous wave. Suddenly, she felt alone in the world. Very alone. She thought of everything a parent should be there for, to see them grow old and live their lives. To retire… none of that was ever going to happen. It all got taken away before she had even prepared for it. What about all the things she needed to say to him? What about that time in the distant future where she really believed their relationship would get better and they would no longer be at war? What if she needed these things to happen in order to get on with her life?

She was too late and the guilt was becoming unbearable. She had to close her eyes in fear of letting her emotions get the best of her. She longed for the numbness that had clouded her mind only moments earlier, not for this surge of emotions, not for this feeling of loss and despair… She wanted to rid herself of it, to close it away in a box deep in the back of her mind and never have to face everything. Nothing was real, it was all some sort of surreal dream that she would wake up from at any moment. Her father had never come to visit her here, she hardly ever saw him so it wasn't like her life had dramatically changed. She got up and went to work, spending her days with the same people she always did, not even thinking of her dad. He was far away in her thoughts, only coming to surface every now and then. Not like… not like now. Now the thought of him was more alive than ever. She couldn't get his face out of his head; she couldn't shake the surreal feeling that she had no parents left. Her parents had died, she was alone. The phrase had entered into her mind countless times over the last few days, but somehow it never seemed to make anything more real. It was still thought of as if this was someone else's life. Not hers.

Her dad was a General, he worked hard and never let anything get in the way of his work. Not even having a wife and daughter had stopped him working hard, it came first. No matter how much destruction it had caused, how much heartache and neglect…it still came first.

Letting out a sigh, she forced herself to turn away from the memorial and away from where her thoughts were leading. Now certainly wasn't the time to get angry at her deceased father. She'd spent majority of her life angry at him, she might as well let it go. Shouldn't she?

Before she had chance to ponder the thought any further she saw a familiar face walking towards her. He held his usual solemn look as he casually walked up to her. His gaze was directed at the flowers on the ground rather than her and from the look on his face, it appeared this was the first he had noticed of the flowers too. As he approached her, he lifted his eyes to meet her wary look. She could already see that look of sympathy, that look of not knowing how to act around her. It was as if she was diseased and no one dared be around her anymore.

"I thought you'd got lost," he spoke, trying to sound as normal as possible but the delicate sympathy in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

Rinoa shook her head at his comment, "Why would you think that?"

She turned back down to the flowers, noticing how they held a strange kind of sad beauty. The kind of beauty that flowers can only give when they're placed by the side of a road marking a tragic loss. It was also the same kind of beauty which came from watching the same old man at the same time everyday visiting his deceased wife's gravestone to put flowers beside it, the empty kind that left her feeling hollow, yet touched at the same time. Just how many students had come to pay their respects to her father?

"No one has seen you in the last day," Squall started, "…we're all worried about-"

"Don't be," Rinoa bluntly cut in, not wanting to hear any more of the sympathy and the worried tone of voice.

She found herself becoming angry, just as she had been the night before. The feeling of not being able to act normal frustrated her, made her want to burst and show everyone how she was actually feeling. And what was she feeling? She wasn't exactly sure how she felt, but she wanted to move on. She wanted to just be treated like normal, to mess around, to laugh and be her usual self. Not all of this grieving bullshit. She wouldn't have any of this anymore.

"I'm fine," she snapped, "I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me, or be worried. Because there's nothing wrong. Why won't anyone understand that?"

"But…" Squall started but was not sure on how to finish his sentence, being taken aback by her outburst.

"But what?" she questioned, meeting his eyes, "I'm not allowed to get on with my life? I have to sit and mope all day because everyone thinks that this is the way I should behave? The reason why I've been avoiding everyone is because I'm so sick of hearing people say that they are 'sorry' and speaking to me as if I'm weak. It's bad enough from people I don't know, it's just insulting when I get it from the people I care about."

The couple stayed quiet a moment, not really sure how to respond to the outburst. Squall was shocked by her words, not knowing what to say. What could he say? He was just trying to be helpful and care for her; he never even realized that what he was doing was the exact opposite of what she needed. He looked at her, seeing that she seemed to have calmed down a little.

"I didn't realize you felt like that," he spoke, "-but grieving doesn't make you weak."

"I know," she replied, wrapping her arms around herself as a cold wind blew through her hair, "-you all know I was never close with my father. At one point I hated him, that's why I never see or speak to him. We weren't close, we never were. Why does everyone expect me to grieve someone who was more like a stranger to me?"

"I… don't know," was all the response he could give. He knew she had history with her father, and that she didn't particularly get along with him, but still – he was her family, her dad. He didn't realize the feuding was that bad.

"Well, now you know not to judge me."

She walked away, not feeling like she could handle an argument with her fiancé of all people. She just needed to be alone with her thoughts, away from …everything. A part of her wished she could pack her bags and escape this place until everything blew over. She couldn't deal with Squall, her friends… the funeral… the wedding… All of it was just too stressful right now. She walked without turning back, a part of her mind already regretting speaking to Squall the way she did, and a larger part of her not even caring.

There were three items awaiting her by the time she returned. Each one brought a completely different reaction within her, stirring a different fear, a different confusion, and a little happiness. Each held a symbolism beyond her senses. Right now, with all three things in front of her, she wasn't sure which should be taking her attention first.

Which was more important? Which was more disturbing?

The fact that yet another flower had been delicately placed on the floor by her bed when she had entered her room sent a shiver down her spine. It made her want to look around frantically to know who had placed it there. Maybe they were lurking somewhere in the shadows of her wardrobe, or possible lying in wait in her bathroom ready to jump out at her. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, something deep down inside of her told her that this was not a romantic gesture from Squall. A stranger had been in her room, she could almost sense it. When she looked around, trying her hardest to picture the way she had left her room hours earlier, she was certain that some things had moved around since then.

Now she couldn't help the creeping fear building up inside of her. It was the same fear of the thing that lurked behind her making those shuffling, wailing noises that had haunted her dreams for the second night now. But as dreams did, her thoughts numbed when she looked at the post which had been delivered to her with a strange curiosity. She could have frantically searched her room and around the surrounding building, maybe ask a few people if anyone had seen someone enter her room but her thoughts quickly disintegrated as she had absentmindedly opened a letter. She had intended on giving her post a quick glance, almost certain it would be junk mail before beginning her investigation. Yet when she looked down at her mail, and saw the words printed at the top of what she saw to be a certificate… All of her thoughts ceased to exist.

It was his death certificate.

She felt the texture of the paper between her fingers, observing every detail and taking in all that she could. She looked at each and every letter as if it were a different language, trying to decipher each syllable and testing these new words in her mind. Her eyes lingered over the name that seemed so familiar on the paper, yet when she looked at it now, she couldn't help feeling like she was intruding on something that did not belong to her. This was someone else's post, not hers. This was another poor soul that had died before their time, someone she didn't know.

Of course this was a lie, she knew that. She knew the name, the date of birth, the time and place of death. It was all here, everything she already knew, everything she had been trying to avoid. Right on paper before her very eyes. It was official. He was gone and never coming back. This was the statement that made everything a reality and denied the possibility of this being some horrible mistake. Again, that reality crept up of her making the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.

"This is real," she whispered to her empty room, but not believing a word she said. With a low moan, she quickly placed the certificate in a drawer and slammed it shut. Gone. She would take it out when she was ready to believe it was true, but right now she could not handle looking at it. Out of sight and out of mind. She didn't need this right now.

With a sigh, she picked up the few letters and a parcel and placed it on the bed beside her. She went through the motions of opening each letter, giving it a quick glance to confirm that, yes, it was junk mail and, yes, she should throw it in the bin beside her. Usually she never opened such things, or took the time to properly read the mail she received, but today she made the effort to read each and every word. She found comfort in its familiarity; this was something in her life that hadn't changed. It didn't look at her with sorrow. It didn't say sorry or try to give her flowers. And it certainly did not tell her that her father had died. She liked it this way. She liked the informality and the usual annoyance it brought her.

She stashed the few envelopes that seemed like cards in the drawer with the certificate, not wanting to open yet another sympathy card. She was so tired of 'sympathy' right now and feared that if she opened a card she would end up ripping it to pieces in anger. Running her hands through her hair, she laid her eyes on the third thing she had noticed since stepping back into her room - the third and final thing that arrived to her. Like the rose, it sat there taunting her, almost challenging her. And although she didn't want to admit it, she recognized the handwriting on the parcel, making her heart skip a beat when she realized that the uneven scrawl on the front belonged to him. As soon as she recognized the writing, she almost threw it in the drawer along with everything else this morning, but then her curiosity was getting the better of her. What in Gaia made her father send her a parcel?

Holding it in her hands, she looked down on it, contemplating whether or not to see what was inside. She moved her fingers along the front, feeling the grooves his writing left. She ignored the thoughts that entered her head, that this would have been one of the last things he wrote on before he… Shaking her head from her thoughts, she ripped open the parcel, needing any kind of distraction right now. Tipping the parcel up, it contents fell with a small jingle onto the bed in front of her. The sight of it made her choke on a sob and her hands grasped tightly at her face as if it would help make her feel better. Her eyes were wide and staring at the thing on the bed.

It was funny how some things got so lost in time, along with the memories that seem to disperse and fade away in time. Yet seeing it here, sat on the bed in front of her it now seemed like it had never been forgotten. All her memories came back as clear as the day she lived them and her heart ached with the innocence that she had once lived. The kind of comfort that only a child can feel when they know they are safe from the monsters in their heads.

It was a bell.

To anyone else, it might not have been a significant thing, but for Rinoa… it brought back so many memories and emotions all at once. She could only look down at it as if it were some sort of horrifying thing. The blue ribbon attached to it was faded and ragged, and the metal was a little rusty, but it was still the same bell that had been a very big part of her childhood. It had been the one thing in her life that had made her feel better after she lost her mother. She remembered everything, right down to that strong smell of…

… Vanilla. That was the first thing to hit the young girl as the strange woman came to sit down beside her. The smell was sweet but overpowering. That very instant made her unsure about this woman, this strange woman that had come into their home to see her. She kept her eyes firmly placed on the doll that she had been playing with, holding it tightly too her, needing her toys protection from this strange woman.

"Hello Rinoa," the woman said slowly. "That's a pretty doll you have there. What's her name?"

She looked up shyly at the woman, before turning to her father who stood in the doorway drinking the auburn liquid slowly from the glass he always seemed to carry around with him. He gave his daughter a reassuring nod, signaling that she was fine. That she wasn't going to hurt the girl. Maybe she was going to be a new friend to play with. She looked back to the strange woman, hugging the doll closer to her. She didn't want a new friend to play with, and certainly not this strange-looking woman.

The woman smiled reassuringly, "You don't have to be shy with me, I can be your friend. I hear you've been a very brave girl over the last few weeks, haven't you?"

The young girl looked down to the ground, shaking her head silently. The memories came back to her over the last few weeks. Her mum had gone to the stars. That was what she was told. She wouldn't be coming back because she was now looking over everyone and protecting her because she was too ill to be down here with them. She had been doing poorly, but now she was better. Everyone had told her lots of things, but she still needed her mum. She didn't want to be alone.

"Are you my new mummy?" the girl spoke so quietly the woman hardly heard her.

"Of course not," the woman responded, "But you know what? I'm going to be here to help you not forget her and make sure she's still a part of your life even if she's not here."

The girl nodded her head, losing interest of the doll she had in her arms and walked in search for a new toy. The woman sat patiently as she settled with a new toy, a stuffed monkey and went to sit back down beside the woman as she stroked the monkey's head.

"He's Bruce," the girl said with a smile.

"Nice to meet you Bruce," the woman said taking the animal's arm, "My name is Alison."

She watched as the young girl smiled before her, watching her play with the innocence that only children held. She played with Rinoa for a long time, watching the girl interact, every now and then glancing over to the girl's father who was still stood in the doorway, watching silently.

"You seem like a very happy girl," Alison said after a while, "Do you think you're happy?"

The girl shrugged, giving no other response to the woman's question.

"Tell me how you feel Rinoa, are you happy? Mad? Sad?"

"A little sad," the girl said after a brief pause.

"Why is that?"

"Because of nightmares," the young girl spoke, playing with her toy distantly.

"What happens in your nightmares? They must be quite scary for you."

The girl nodded quietly, as if in silent contemplation. "A horrible monster chases me because I want to see my mummy but he won't let me. He comes and breathes and growls on my neck but I don't know who he is."

"You don't see him?"

The girl shook her head, "I hear him behind me."

"Do you have your nightmare often?" The woman watched as the girl nodded sadly before throwing her toy to the side, once more bored of this game. Alison sat up, a less serious tone in her voice, "How about we paint your Dad a nice picture?"

Alison came to speak to Rinoa daily, each time her father would stand and watch silently with his liquor in hand. A habit that started after her mother died. Even at a young age, the image of her dad with a bottle of liquor close by became the norm. The stench of stale alcohol on his breath slowly somehow became comforting, almost becoming of her dad. Sometimes she watched him sleep on the sofa after drinking too much, other times he would stumble in a daze around their home. He always watched Rinoa with almost as much fascination as he saw when Alison was speaking to her, getting inside her head. He never spoke or interacted while she was there. He simply watched.

It wasn't until one day when Alison came round with a present in her hands that she urged him to come with her. He followed behind, stepping into his daughter's room rather than staying on the outside.

"Rinoa, I have a surprise for you today," Alison said, holding out the small bag. She took Rinoa's hand and led her towards the door, before turning towards the General. "You too."

It was then that she led them both outside into the garden and beside a tree. The father and daughter stood, silently watching the woman as she took a bell out of her bag and tied it to the tree with a blue ribbon, got up and watched it jingle as it swayed in the wind.

"Rinoa, the next time you have a nightmare, I want you to listen for this bell. Even though your mother isn't here for you now, every time you hear this bell, let it be a reminder that she is there. That she is still real. And when you wake up, she'll still be there. You just have to listen for it. As long as the bell keeps ringing, the monster in your dreams can't win."

The young girl listened to the woman's words, already feeling a sense of calm when she heard the bell…

… Jingle once more as she held it in her hands. It was the same as the day she remembered, the same as the many nights that had passed by when she woke up in pure terror at the nightmares she used to experience. She held the bell for a long time in her hands, taking in its memory. No matter how crazy and clichéd both her and her father thought the child psychologist had been later on, she knew that bell had helped her a lot. She smiled at the memory and her earlier thoughts had now calmed. Strange… she actually felt content, she actually felt peaceful inside.

Placing the bell back down, she looked at the writing on the parcel's paper once more. Was that why he had sent her this, because he knew he was going to die? What had possessed him to send something like this? Her dad had never been sympathetic or sentimental; he couldn't even look after his own daughter when they were both grieving together. He had to get some stupid psychologist in, like he did for the rest of her life whenever she had a problem. Why did he not realize that all he needed to do was sit and listen to her? All she ever wanted was to know he cared, and now, after sending such a thing to her… Why? She didn't understand.

Rinoa stood up quickly, shaking her thoughts away. She picked up the parcel paper and the bell before putting it into the drawer along with everything else a little too abruptly. She knew she should have gone with her first idea, opening it certainly hadn't made her feel any better. She was still reminded about how he was gone. About how he was never coming back, even though she still had so much to tell him, so much to apologize for and so much to sort out.

How was she ever supposed to move on with her life now?

The room suddenly seemed a lot smaller than it was and she found herself feeling the need to get out of here. Too much had happened in such a short amount of time. She found herself feeling guilty for the way she spoke to Squall earlier and for the way she had behaved with her friends. She shouldn't be avoiding them right now; she should be seeking their comfort and help and not doing this on her own, trying to make her way through life as if nothing had ever happened. For a moment, she stood still, not sure what to do.

Stay in her room away from reality, or make her way into the big wide world and actually talk to someone for once? She took a step forward but stopped in her tracks feeling unsure of herself. Shaking her head from her doubts, she walked to the door and made her way out of the room.

Her mind was made up. She was going to talk about this. She needed help and there were people in Garden who could help her. With haste she made her way around the halls, in search of someone. Anyone. But she couldn't find them, she looked all around the quad, the canteen, even the library but there was no one in sight. She knew she looked like a desperate crazy person but right now but she did not care. People were looking at her strangely, she knew that. But what did she care? There were far too many things running through her head right now. Making her way into the lift, she waited impatiently as it slowly rose to the next level of Garden. As soon as the doors opened, she found herself running into a group of students almost knocking them off their feet.

Just ahead of her, she found who she was looking for. Once in sight, Rinoa made her way forwards and just then, reality hit her, making her realize what she was actually doing. For a brief moment she almost stopped in her tracks and turned away. If she left now, no one would ever know and she could resume on with the life that she had built herself the last few days. She was unsure, but inside, she felt like she needed this, before she drove herself crazy. Sucking in a breath of air, she built up the courage to walk up to the dark haired girl and tap her on the shoulder. Luckily she was by herself and the crowds of students were quickly dispersing so her actions didn't seem to go so noticed. However, as soon as the girl turned around to see who was intruding in on her, Rinoa found herself feeling more and more like a fool.

"Hello?" the girl responded, giving Rinoa a strange glance, casting her eyes up and down at her.

"Hey," Rinoa said, trying to sound as normal as possible. "I hope you don't mind me speaking to you like this since I'm not sure if you even remember me. We spoke briefly in the library yesterday. You gave me a banana."

The girl stayed quiet a moment, before recognition hit her features. "So I did," the student said, looking disinterested. Confidence dripped away fast as Rinoa noticed that the girl had that same kind of 'Back off and leave me alone' tone of voice.

"Listen…what you said to me yesterday, you're the only person I have spoken to since all of this has happened where I didn't have to feel guilty for not being upset about everything. You know what you're talking about and I… I need help."

"You don't even know me and you're asking for help?" the dark haired girl questioned, raising an eyebrow. She looked more and more annoyed at the disturbance the longer Rinoa was there. "How the hell am I supposed to help you? Your dad died and you don't like people caring for you, what am I supposed to do, fight them all away?"

"I don't know…" Rinoa said, suddenly feeling like a fool. She didn't know what she was trying to do or achieve, this girl was the first person who came to mind when she felt like she needed the help of another. It certainly didn't make sense, but right now, nothing in her life really did anymore.

Banana Girl rolled her eyes and gave a sharp sigh, before turning her back on Rinoa and walking away evidently annoyed by the plea for help.

"Wait!" Rinoa spoke, trying to catch up with the girl. "Please…. Wait. I don't even know your name."

The student stopped in her tracks and turned to face Rinoa. "If you think that you can just get help and it'll make everything okay, then you are so wrong. The magic words don't exist, all I can tell you is that it's going to hit you one day and I promise it'll hurt like hell. You'll probably never get over it because he's family, but all you can do is suck it up and accept it. He's gone. Dead. Never coming back. That's it. There is no magic. Not what you were expecting? Then go to the people who seem to care because I'm not going to hold your hand. Maybe you might start appreciate that they give a damn. Maybe you won't. I'm not you so I don't know. Now if you don't mind, I have a class to go to."

Rinoa was left to stand in silence and shock as the girl stomped down the corridor, never turning back. Her words had cut deep. Rinoa had never expected her to react the way she did. Or maybe she had. If she had wanted sympathy she could have gone to anyone else, but she didn't. The girl was right. Rinoa touched her face and felt the moisture of tears. She also felt a wave of emotion come over her in a harsh slap of reality. It was grief.

And it was real.