Pleasantly Depressed – Ch 29 "Of Retcons"
Damn my head hurts.
That's what you get for stealing other people's alcohol.
Somehow I don't think this is just a hangover.
…Oh dear. Are the aches starting up again?
Looks like.
Without… you…
Enough daydreaming. Back to work.
"We were on elemental weather effects?"
A girl in the fourth row raised her hand. "No, Instructor Kinneas, we were on elemental monsters."
"Right. If you could turn to page 14, and study the graph there, you'll see it's a world map marked in different colors for the different elemental regions. Though monsters do and will roam, these are the types of elements you will most likely find in those areas. Anyone notice anything odd about the colors for Balamb? Yes, Miss Indeo."
"The red dot is the fire caves?"
"Correct. Balamb is almost completely devoted to ice and bug monsters, and yet in this one singular spot, is a wealth of high level fire creatures. Can anyone tell me why? Yes, Miss Naster."
"It's a geothermal cave?"
"But why is it a geothermal cave?"
"Um… a crack in the planet's crust let magma rise up?"
"Balamb is near the center of a geological plate, not a likely place for cracks in the crust. Don't think science. We're looking at magics, think magic. The cave is rife with fire creatures, who might be attracted by the heat, true. But so many high level monsters in such a small cave system? Yes, Miss Lonfict."
"…The monsters made the caves?"
"Very good. The monsters, or more importantly, a certain high level monster, made the caves. You'd be surprised at just how often magic can have an affect on its surroundings, and not the other way around."
The ground thaws…
He was supposed to be concentrating on the budget reviews on his desk, but the world was so gray.
Empty.
The word fit so well. Without Shiva… Why did Cid have to take her, dammit? I can't… I can't function without her! How am I supposed to do any work when I've got an empty space in my head where there's supposed to be a comforting voice?
But life was work, and work was budget reviews that needed to be initialed. He snatched his hand away from the pill drawer before he could convince himself to take more painkillers, and reached for a pen instead.
The rain falls…
The door groaned, then shrieked, then gave up together and collapse into a submissive crumbling heap.
Selphie stepped over it, looking ready to kill, nunchucks in hand. She stopped, and blinked, and took in the scene with an expression that any second now was going to change into-
She smiled sweetly and giggled. "What happened, did Irvine trip? The klutz."
The grass grows…
"Man, I wish I had a camera."
He tensed in Irvine's grip, and wrenched away to face Quistis with a scowl.
The cowboy sighed. "What do you want, Quis?"
She sniffed delicately. "Told you not to give me nicknames. Squall, sorry to interrupt, but Irvine here's got a mission. If you could spare him, Cid would like to go over a few details with him before it's the Kramers' bedtime."
"Whatever." He was stalking out before Irvine could grab an arm to make him stop, and sidestepped around the instructor with harsh steps. Damn Kinneas. Damn him and his fucking opinions. Now maybe he'll leave me alone.
He could feel the instructor watching his back as he moved away. "My, what's got into him?"
"A little too much NSAID," came the response from inside the room.
He paused at the end of the hall, just out of view. He didn't know why, until he waited for it to happen and it didn't.
Irvine didn't come after him.
Well, thank Hyne. Now I can get back to my life.
Without you…
Stretching his shoulders to work out the tension, Squall chucked his empty cup in the hotel room trashcan as he entered, and collapsed onto the bed as bonelessly as possible.
"Yep!" the cowboy called from the bathroom. "I did forget to turn off the faucet." A rusty squeak stopped the dripping sound, and he was poking his head out of the door, giving Squall a questioning look. "Do you want the shower first, or shall I?"
"Whatever." He was a little grimy from sitting in a clocktower for hours, but it was too comfortable where he was.
A grin was his answer, and the head disappeared. He stared at the ceiling as the rush of water echoed through the wall. I feel kind of useless on this mission.
It's standard practice for a sniper to take a partner with them.
But me? When's the last time my role in a job was 'partner'?
That'd be arrogance coming from anyone else.
The bathroom door opened, and Irvine casually walked naked across the room. "Forgot the towel." He snagged one from his duffel and returned to his shower.
The seeds root…
The taxi driver took one look at them and shook his head. "No way!"
"Oh come on!" He shifted his weight to better support Squall's limp form. "I'll pay an extra 2k."
"That wouldn't begin to cover the cleaning cost for what all that blood's going to do to my backseat!"
"It's mostly dried." Squall slipped a little, and Irvine had to bend a protesting knee to get a decent grip on him. "Look. An extra 6k, alright? Just get us to the train station, and let us off in a quiet part of it."
"You want quiet, it'll cost you 8k."
"Alright already. Just, could you get the door for me?"
Acting as if all of this was a huge insult to him, the driver huffed his way out of his seat and held the door so Irvine could lay his burden across the seats. "He ain't gonna die, is he? I don't want to get roped into no trial."
Irvine took a step towards the man and loomed over him. "If he dies in your cab, a trial won't be your main worry. So get us there quickly."
The flowers bloom...
"Irvy Irvy Irvy! Catch!"
He dutifully caught as was his obligation, and tried to ignore the angry complaints of his back at the action.
His armful of girlfriend kissed his fiercely, then pulled back with a grin. "You okay?"
"Getting better." He pecked her cheek, and received his usual blushing response. "You behave while I was gone?"
"The better question is, did you behave?"
"Always, doll."
"Oh really." She stared him down, sweetly but firm. "No pretty Deling girls?"
"No pretty Deling girls. On my honor."
"Good!" She bit his nose, and wriggled for him to let her down, which he did. "You going to have dinner with me?"
And here was the dilemma. He wanted to, of course, but oddly he found himself grateful for the reason he couldn't. "Sorry, pixiestar, something's come up."
She tapped a foot in annoyance. "Something better than me?"
"Not better, just… you know Squall woke up?"
The gasp indicated that no, she didn't know. "He did! Oh that's wonderful. I was so worried. Is he going to be okay?"
Irvine nodded, and slipped an arm around her waist. "Yeah, he'll be fine. But, um… the Doc wanted me to watch out for him for awhile. You know, to make sure he doesn't have a relapse of whatever it was."
She pouted up at him, but it was mostly faked. "I see. So I'm getting stood up for Squall."
"Don't be like that, honeyrabbit."
She sighed, and there was a hint of disappointment under the fake anger. "It's okay. This is important. But you owe me some really good makeup sex next time."
"And an apology on bended knee, it's yours."
She beamed, a real smile, and tickled him. He jerked with a "Gah!" and tried to fight the little demon off, but now she was really trying, and he found himself doubled over begging her to stop through the laughter.
The children play…
"I love it up here. It's so peaceful. Oh look, there goes one!" Selphie leapt to the railing and leaned over to point at the shooting star as it sailed down towards the horizon.
"Selphie! Get down from there!" He tugged her back and into his arms, trying not to shiver.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, lovely, it's just a little dangerous is all."
She stuck a tongue out at him.
"You gonna use that?"
A crafty grin lit her face. "Not here. Back to my room."
The stars gleam…
He was dreaming. In his dream, he saw himself lying on a bed in a dark room. There were little cold eyes in the darkness gleaming like stars. Tiny creatures beeped to themselves, and clear snakes tried to pour venom into his veins.
But at least he wasn't alone in the dark. He could feel someone nearby, not speaking, not touching him, but there anyway. A steady presence in the emptiness. It didn't fill the hole in him that ached and cried, but it was a comforting pressure in a place he didn't even know could hold anything.
He watched the figure sigh, and nod into sleep, and he followed after him.
The poets dream…
He was flying through the air, and then he was pinned down. The debris pelted his face and his ears rang from the explosion. The solid weight against his chest was Irvine. It looked like he was unconscious and bleeding from the head. And he was heavy.
Squall! Look ou-
The gun barrel clicked against his neck as the attacker peered down smugly. "Well look what we got here."
A whiff of smoke caught his nose, and he risked a glance to the left. Yep, the jeep was burning spare parts.
Let's hope he really was kidding about the nitro glycerin.
The eagles fly…
The door was solid metal on the inside, without doorknob or keyhole. The architects who had built this bunker once upon a decade or two ago had never thought that their broom closet might one day be used as an impromptu cell for one ever-resourceful cowboy.
And while he was on the subject, what was a cowboy, anyway? What was a cow? Some sort of insult? Maybe a synonym for "country" or "farm". Those dang Balambians better not have been calling him a redneck all this time.
The hinges were on the outside, but there was enough space between the door and wall that he could see them through the seam. There were lights on outside in the hall.
Maybe if he could get at them with the untwisted paperclip… but no, he couldn't get enough purchase.
Sitting down for a breather, he took stock of his inventory. Pocketknife, paperclip, shelves, clothing, handcuffs, remainder of rope…
…Wait…
He got up and checked the seam again. Yeah, it might fit. He picked them up and checked. It was a tight squeeze, but… ah, the hinge on the cuffs caught against the door. That wouldn't work.
But if he could pull the door open even a millimeter…
He sat back down and pulled the frayed rope into his hand, picking apart the individual threads and weaving them into small plaits, which he then wove into a long, thin ribbon. It took a good handful of hours to make any progress, but he didn't dare rush. The knots had to be good ones.
Once he was satisfied, he slipped his ribbon through the seam and used the paperclip to work it around the outside of the hinges, until he had one long cord going up the outside length of the door. Giving a mental blessing to the overcautious idiot who had used so much rope to secure him, he slid the ribbon to the midway point on the door, coming through the gaps on the top and bottom of the door, and tied the ends together.
He kicked the shelf until a piece broke off. He slipped it against the inside of the knot, and started turning it. The rope wound around it like a corkscrew.
Once it started getting tension, he braced each foot on one side of the doorframe, and pulled on the board. Good, good, it was holding his weight. He shifted his feet a little higher up the wall, and resumed twisting the board.
The thousand tiny knots in the rope gave it strength, and the rope wrapped around the board gave the board strength. As it turned, it pulled the rope tighter and closer together, and tighter, and closer…
The door gave a groan on its hinges.
He kept turning, and shifted his feet up until he was hanging off the wall.
The door gave a little, and then the rope snapped.
"Ow! Charred burner!"
He picked himself back up and rubbed his back, but soon forgot about it in light of more interesting things. He checked the seam. Yes, it has shifted just enough.
The handcuff slipped through. He looped it around top hinge and snapped it shut, clicking it to its tightest circle possible.
He wound the remainder of the rope around the other cuff, tying the board to it. He pulled against it to walk up the wall.
It took three tries and he sprained his wrist, but he got the door open.
And another point goes to Irvine! Now…
…Where has Squall run off to?
Without you…
He shielded his eyes against the sun, since his hat apparently wasn't enough out here, to gaze over the scenery. "We should take the valley pass. We can stay close to water."
Squall snorted, and continued heading uphill. "No. We have a better vantage point from high terrain."
"Vantage point? Vantage against what? What exactly do we have to defend against, the rocks?"
Squall ignored him and kept climbing.
"Hey, I'm talking to you."
"Come on, Kinneas."
"Don't you pull that rank bull on me! Hey!"
"…"
Growling, he sat down on the closest boulder and wiped his brow.
"Irvine. Move it."
"Just a quick break, Squall." He fished out his stolen pack of cigarettes and the gang leader's lighter.
"Those things will kill you."
"If the sun doesn't."
Squall stared at him for a long moment, then came over and nudged his shoulder. Irvine shifted to give him room to sit, and the gunblader stole one of his cigarettes.
"Hey! I've only got a few."
"Good. You should quit," Squall muttered around the cancer stick, and leaned closer so Irvine could light it.
The earth turns…
"Ouch. Ow. Ow. Dammit. Dammit woman, I'm not a pincushion!"
The Palace nurse ignored him and popped in more stitches, continuing up his side until she reached the end of the gash. "Really, you should have better treated these injuries. It's a miracle you're not a walking infection. Stop squirming, you've got three more lashes on your backside. I'm going to need the antiseptic again, and don't you flinch this time. Big baby."
Squall growled low in his throat and gesture over to his companion. "Are all nurses like this, or is it just me?"
"It's just you," Irvine replied absently, flicking through a newspaper. Except for a few bandages, he was bare naked under the blankets, laying on his belly and leaning over the edge of the medical bed to better catch the lamplight. "Listen to this. Bombings in Timber, possibly terrorist related. Galbadian occupation momentarily set back."
"Thank Hyne. Ow. Bloody Galbies. Ow."
Irvine raised the paper and shook it at the gunblader. "Don't make me hit you."
Squall's hands spasmed against the bed railing, to keep him from flinching. "Right, I forgot. You like to pretend you're a Galbie patriot."
"Pretend! I'm gonna hit you. Get over here, I'm gonna wallop you." He swung the paper in Squall's direction, but missed by ten feet.
"Busy, being tortured. Ow. I'll talk, I'll talk."
"Funny." The nurse picked up the sealant paste for another sweep along the injury. "Just for that, you're getting the big needle."
Irvine grinned lopsidedly. "Heh, 'bout time someone stuck it in Squall, he's been aching for it since puberty."
"Kill you, brutal ravaging. So help me, kill you."
"Mm, ravaging."
"Pervert."
"Don't worry," interrupted the nurse. "He's got worse sunburn than you, so he's going to need the cream for it. It hurts like the dickens."
"Worse than the big needle?"
"Worse than the big needle."
Squall smirked at Irvine, who glumly went back to his newspaper.
The sun burns…
The garden was perfectly serene. No crowds, no bright lights, no jubilant music, no chatty ladies, no expectations, no one to watch if he chose to have a screaming fit until his lungs wore out.
He hated the man, and resented him, and refused to believe he was related to him, and so badly wanted his approval, and wanted to knock the corny grin right off his face.
Squall let his knees buckle and collapsed belly first onto the cool grass. He tucked his cheek into a patch of clover and let the leaves tickle at his nose.
He hated the damned cowboy too. Wouldn't bloody leave him alone. Kept running off all the time. Kept hassling him and pushing him. Kept chatting up those damned women.
He ran a hand through the thin leaves, and dug his fingernails into the fluffy dirt beneath them. He smugly didn't care if he got grass stains on his borrowed uniform. Laying stomach down in a snug little garden, he felt he could walk right back into that ballroom stained green from collar to boot, and not give a damn.
The idea of going back into the ballroom, though, made him jerk with a shudder.
Squall stretched his shoulders and listened to them crack, then decided to stretch out his feet too, and his legs. Then he twisted over onto his back and wriggled until he was sure every bone in his body had given him a satisfying pop.
He probably was truly green collar to boot, now. He sat up to check. Nope, still Balamb black and blue. Extra points go to the fabric department back home.
There went another jerking shudder. Must've been something he'd thought.
Shaking his head until the feeling ran away, he wriggled his way closer to the pond, just because he knew how silly the motion looked, and no one was here to see it. It was a fake pond, but nicely done, with mosaic tiles on the bottom, red lilies on the top, and striped koi in the middle.
He stuck a finger in it and watched the ripples dance.
Finally, some peace. I hate crowds. Give me a quiet, shady corner over a rowdy party anyday.
A blotchy red fish swam up to inspect the new intrusion into its world.
Don't see what parties accomplish anyway. You put a bunch of people in a room, serve them drinks, and then they dance.
A faint breeze dropped down the walls and flitted across the grass and water.
And the girls won't shut up about how nice the dresses look.
The moon passed through a break in the clouds and brightened things up for a moment in silver glow, then ducked back behind cover.
…
A ladybug decided his left shoe made a good lookout post.
…Shiva?
The fish decided it was bored of this strange new thing, and went to hide under a lily.
It finally occurred to Squall that he was very much alone.
But I'd die…
Irvine flopped to the floor and cupped his cheek, jaw open to ease the ache.
"Ow. Dammit, what'd you hit me for?"
"Felt like it." Squall stood up, and hauled him to his feet. Then he punched Irvine in the stomach.
Irvine elbowed him in the chin, and the fighting resumed, and continued all the way back to Balamb.
Without you…
It was hard to walk, what with the ball of fluff shimmying in and out of Squall's clothing, making him have to stop and fish it out again.
He might be annoyed, if the fishing part didn't reveal and awful lot of skin.
And he really wasn't thinking that.
Squall seemed to be taking to the little creature, though. Annoyances were usually scowled at and shoved off on someone else, but since they'd left the Headmaster's office, the brunet had yet to pass the fuzzball over to Irvine.
They were both too distracted to navigate, and found themselves inexplicably in the library. Then they had to turn around and head back up to the dorms.
Halfway there Squall stopped to take off his shirt so the little monster couldn't go down it again, and they ended up in the cafeteria.
Squall looked around the empty tables, then peered up at Irvine blankly. Irvine gave a sheepish grin and led them back up towards the dorms, grateful that Squall wasn't getting surly.
Squall certainly had taut abs, though.
And he really wasn't thinking that.
…Okay, yes, he was thinking that. He'd made out with the guy, for Hyne's sake, he couldn't keep denying that the guy was unreasonably attractive.
And shirtless.
And had really taut abs.
"Why are we in the quad?"
"Eh?"
"Why are we in the quad."
Irvine glanced up to Squall's face, then around him. "Oh, so we are."
"You're lost."
"How could I be lost. The place is effin' color coded."
"Then why are we in the wrong place?"
"I… wanted some fresh air before we head back in."
Squall could've called him on that, but seemed too bored to care, and just stood there, struggling with a wriggling ball of orange, waiting for the cowboy to finish with the air and guide him back to the dorms.
He slipped off to the side, then paused as the gunblader followed him. "I'm going to take a quick smoke, if it's alright."
Squall blinked at him.
"So you stay over there."
Blink.
"Where the smoke won't affect the moomba."
Squall wandered over to another bench and sat down.
Shirtless.
They'd never get to the dorms at this rate.
The breeze warms…
I can't stand when she smiles like that.
Squall was in the cafeteria for his daily "Let's pretend our Commander is perfectly fine" session, sitting at one of the larger tables, surrounded by his friends. The only thing noticeably out of the ordinary was the two armed guards standing just behind each of his shoulders, but he could pretend they didn't exist.
Could, but didn't care to. Let the others fake smiles and laugh canned laughter at canned jokes. Let Selphie, seated on his right, show too many teeth with her grins and chew her lip when others weren't looking. God, he hated that smile of hers. He hated how everyone put up painted backgrounds to hide the bitterness of truth. Hiding in mental cubicles, hoping the world would go away. They couldn't see anything through those walls they were building. He could see them, but they looked right through him. In a room of people, in a building with a population in the hundreds, he was completely alone.
Bull.
I'm trying to brood, Shiva, do you mind?
Yes.
Well, I don't want you to.
And that'd be just peachy if I were a willing and obedient slave, oh mighty war hero, but guess what?
You haven't obeyed any order I've ever given you.
You got it.
Why couldn't I have picked Quetzalcoatl? Zell says the bird never talks to him.
That, my dear, is because "the bird" is dumb as sticks. And flighty as his owner's hair.
The girl smiles…
"Okay people, we're pulling a combo poppin' imp and… dammit, sorry guys, wrong codes. Combo… combo rock skipper and… combo… little help here, what's rolling logs?"
"Armor fish, sir."
"Armor fish. Stupid name. Dean, you're on point. Kirsten, Segal, left flank, along the gutters. Lerrenger, Wena, Hott, right flank, draw their fire. Maxin, Derring, Trubechen, push forward, take the tower. Tess, guess who gets to be my spot buddy?"
"Hyne shrink the balls of the man who put the sniper in charge."
"You know you love it, and I'm telling Trepe you said that about her. Let's move it."
The SeeDs filed out of the bombed-out flowershop, some taking the shortcut through the gaping holes in the wall. It was a bright and cheery day with white puffy clouds floating overhead, perfect weather for a picnic if you could find a spot for a picnic blanket that wasn't already covered in rubble. That wasn't such a big deal, anyways. For a picnic you needed food.
Two blocks down, the enemy had settled itself into a fire station, boarding up windows, lining up upended cars for barricades, all the usual stuff. A nasty addition was a piecemeal machine gun nest on the roof. The real kicker was, it was Irvine's machine gun. Bastards.
"By the numbers, people," he muttered into his collar comm, and hauled himself up the steps to the second floor, where Lancelot the Second was set out and ready to take vengeance for The Colonel.
The comm crackled in response. "You know your leader is new to commanding and using cliché movie phrases incorrectly to cover the fact, if…"
"Twist it sideways and lock it, Dean, or I'll lock it for you."
"Real scared. Shaking in my steel toes. If I find beer, you ain't gettin' any."
Irvine shrugged at Tess, who was smirking. "If he weren't a Galbie, I'd shoot him."
"And if he weren't a Delinger, you might like him, right?"
"Nah, he's an idiot. Keep a watch."
Out the window and below, he could see his troop moving along the street, taking cover where they could find it. Until they got into place, he and Tess were their eyes.
"Pass the scopes."
They hit him in the shoulder. "Ow. Dick." They were standard issue SeeD binoculars, once painted blue, now a gritty green black and scuffed and scratched into third place in the world's ugliest appliance competition. But the lenses were crystal clean and he could see the neck hairs on the rebels, who were playing cards.
"Heads up, three sentries, just inside on the right in the hanger, armed with semis and a…. the… bastard's got my deck. Didn't you people salvage anything in our last retreat?"
A crackle from his neck. "The bedmat you slept on last night, your regality."
"Lies, I don't sleep. Trim up your line, Wena's straggling. Hold up, hold up, something's going on." The sentries in the hanger had gone tense, ignoring their game and talking quickly. They seemed confused, but mostly surprised and stressed. "Don't move 'til I signal."
"Ah come on, coach, they're sitting pretty for the taking. Not even watching the road."
Now they were, two of them at least, the other talking to them fiercely. Then they were turned back towards each other, even though Irvine had been sure they would've seen Wena. All at once, they leaned back into their chairs and continued the game with forced smiles.
"I dunno, something's weird here. Tess?"
"There's only three of them, even if they do spook."
"Team, keep moving in, but careful-like. Don't want them startling and calling alarm."
The one on the right picked up his radio, flipped channels, and said something into it. On the roof, the half-napping gunner jerked awake, snagged his backup radio, and said something back. He went all tense, and peered down at the street. The SeeDs were on the other side of the building, out of his view, and almost on top of the hanger. He spoke again, and inside the hanger, the sentry spoke back, then flipped back to his previous channel.
"This is Maxin, we're pushing forward on five."
The sentries inside nodded to each other, and put their hands on their weapons.
"Hold back hold back, I'm not liking this. They're moving wrong."
"We're here, Captain, we're taking it. You can yell at us later."
"Hold back, soldier!"
"We're taking it! In five, count starting."
Time slowed down to a leisurely pace for Irvine, as he gazed down the scopes into the den of the enemy. He had a perfectly clear view of the scene, down to the time on the watch on one of the guy's wrists, the calendar on the wall, the numbers on the radios.
The same numbers that were on the SeeDs' radios.
He grabbed for his comm so fast it broke off his coat. "Cancel! Cancel, get the hell out! They're listening in! Get the hell… oh Hyne no. Oh Hyne oh Hyne no."
The cloud moves…
The grenade finished shredding the ground, and the debris clattered to the asphalt. The smoke drifted in yellow haze, softly thinning as the dust settled.
Irvine popped his head over the rim of the stones and shot the double fingers. "You missed, numbnuts!" Then he ducked back down and crouched to wait out the renewed barrage of bullets.
They'd be kicking themselves if they knew they're wasting the last of their ammo on a single unarmed man. Exactly as I want them to. As Cid sometimes drones, 'War is 10 firepower, 20 training, 20 strategic advantage, 30 dumb luck, and we make up the rest as we go along.' Ha, now he can't mumble about people not listening to him.
What I wouldn't give for some backup, though.
Without you…
The butterfly demons hiding in the technicolor forest had, for the moment, wandered off in search of fresher meat. He opened his eyes to peer through the fever haze.
He stared, and decided he was still dreaming. Squall didn't make block castles in real life, did he?
The main book facing him was a romance novel, of the sordidly pink variety. A big strong man sweeping a long haired woman into his arms, to the backdrop of lush flowers or satin blankets. The book was upside down. It looked like the man was clinging to the woman to keep from falling out of the picture. For some reason, that amused him.
Squall paused to stare at the castle he'd built, then knocked it down with a sweeping backhand swat. He stuck out a leg to kick down the survivors. A mystery novel skittered closer to the dazed Galbadian. One of those with two kid detectives peering over a map, with a looming evil shadow behind them.
His eyes drifted the millimeter to closed, and the image stayed printed on the inside of them. What kind of idiot kids go chasing after real thieves?
A cool hand pressed against his jaw, and felt ever so nice. He'd forgotten how hot it was. He tried to say something, show his gratitude, but his lips refused to move, turning it into a murmur. The hand pressed deeper, comforting, then slid down to his neck, before leaving altogether.
He pushed his eyes open a slit, and watched Squall stalk to a chair nearby. Squall being nice? Yep, still dreaming.
He settled back into the lower corners of his mind and the technicolor forest, fetched up his butterfly net, and went hunting demons.
The tides change…
Squall had brought 6 Cures, 3 Curas, 1 Curagas, 1 Phoenix Down, 5 Esunas, 18 Blizzards, 4 Blizzaras, 1 Blizzaga, 2 Deaths, 3 Silences, 3 Waters, 1 Meltdown, 39 Scans, and a hell of a temper.
He took down the door with the Meltdown and stalked into the movie theatre, gunblade out and poised.
Alerted by the racket, the renegades' sentry opened fire with his machine gun.
Squall cast a string of Curas and waited.
They ran out of ammo and Curas at about the same time. They stared at each other, the weight of the silence pressing into them.
Squall cast Blizzaga and strolled forward, smacking the ice statue with his blade. It broke in the middle, the split marked with red slush.
The sound of the gun had brought out the others in investigation. Eyes went wide and a few choked back shock.
Heh, they recognize me. Been a while since that happened. Too long. Gotta do something about that.
By the time he was done, he was down to 1 Cure, 1 Phoenix Down, 1 Silence, 2 Waters, and 39 Scans.
After all, what the hell are Scans good for anyway?
The boys run…
Irvine woke up long enough to yell "You killed Trent you bastard!", then passed out again.
Squall spent the rest of the ride wondering who the hell Trent was.
The oceans crash…
"Selphie. For once. In your life. Stop chattering under gunfire."
She stuck her tongue out at him, but stopped talking and started casting. Protect for herself and him, Haste on the evacuating civilians to help clear the room. She hefted his nunchucks and prepared for battle.
Then the man stealing tart pulled out a semi-auto and things got interesting.
The crowds roar…
Rinoa spread the newspaper out over the table and on top of his fries. "Okay, there's got to be a car rental listed somewhere in here."
Squall pulled his fries out and continued eating them.
"By the way, it's good to see you again."
He kept eating.
Selphie skipped in, hauling an armload of clothing. "Oh don't mind him, he's got mandala issues."
Rinoa nodded and flipped through the paper, hunting past the sports and living for the advertisements. "Wait, he's got what?"
"I know what you mean."
"Eh?"
Selphie stole some of his fries and all of his katchup. "Dunno. But some of the time he's all 'Grr kill baddies!' and other times it's like he's sleepwalking. Supposed to be something wrong with his head. Right Squall?"
He popped the cap of his soda and took a gulp.
"See?"
"Weird. Is he sick?"
"Dunno. So, how're things?"
"Do you really think it's right to just ignore him?"
"He doesn't care. Do you Squall?"
He shook his head.
"See? So, tell tell! It's been forever. You're back with the Owls?"
"Oh no, they disbanded when Timber declared independence. I'm with a new group who got together after the Quarantine. We're plan to cripple Deling's industry until they have to back out again. We're starting with the railroads because the leader says 'transportation is the lifeblood of a country'. We call ourselves the Exiled Renegades. Sounds really daring, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, it does!" Selphie whacked Squall's shoulder. "Hey you, help us look through the paper. You take this part, start reading."
He obediently opened it and focused on the first article. "Moomba Saves Children, Robs Jewelry Store."
She whacked him again. "Silently doofus. Look for car rentals, tell me if you spot any. So Rinoa, you're still with… was it Zone or Watts?"
Rinoa blushed and waved a hand. "No, I… I'm not with either of them, not anymore."
"Oh? You're seeing someone new?"
"Um…" She gestured over at Squall, and looked a little embarrassed.
"Oh right, you don't want to talk about it in front of the ex. Hey Squall, cover your ears."
He covered his ears and kept reading. Rinoa got a worried look, and asked something of Selphie. Selphie responded, chewing on her lips with a frown, then whacked him and grabbed one of his hands. "Okay, stop covering your ears."
He put his hands down.
"He's okay, though, isn't he?"
"Dunno. Gonna have to take him back to Garden, have them check him out. Squall, find anything in the paper?"
"Fiery Cat-Demon Steals World's Largest Ball of Yarn."
"Anything about CARS."
"Trade in Your Old Wheels for Store Credit."
"You're hopeless."
The days soar…
The cuffs on his wrists, elbows, thighs, ankles, and waist chaffed, but he was grateful for them. His skin itched in places impossible to reach, and ached from laying still, but the alternative was worse.
It was cold in the brig, and bright, and silent, except for the hum of the airconditioning and the shuffling of the two guards. He felt vulnerable, watched like that, without even enough wriggle space to turn towards the wall. He felt dangerous, to need to be watched like that.
He was a loaded gun waiting to go off, and they'd put the safety on. Thank Hyne, they'd put the safety on.
He'd never been afraid of himself before. It twisted the gut something fierce.
He didn't want to think. He was afraid to think. He might think of a way to get loose.
I haven't hurt Irvine, he told himself. Yet, he told himself. He'd hurt Quistis. He'd hurt Selphie. But not Irvine. Not yet. Hopefully never, now that they had him secure.
Balamb doesn't have an assisted suicide law. Not that it'd cover me if they did. Maybe I can threaten the guards into attacking me. But… what if I win…
He watched his memories of himself attacking Laguna, and Selphie, and Quistis. He remembered the rage. How good the fury felt. If he felt like that again, and had the opportunity…
He couldn't live tied up forever. He couldn't. Strapped down like a… he wasn't even human. How can someone who can't move or talk or feel be human? Maybe he could get them to kill him. But they wouldn't, and he had no way to make them.
The hum from the airconditioning sounded just like Time Compression. He wanted to scream.
They'd sedate him if he screamed.
So? He wouldn't have to think if he were sedated. But the guards were watching. He couldn't scream with them watching.
It ached all through him until he wanted to cry. And icy fear trickled down his nerves.
Maybe Irvine'd come for a visit later. Maybe someone would. Maybe he'd die alone. Maybe he could get the guards to talk to him. They wouldn't talk to him. They weren't allowed to. Maybe he could just scream at them and watch them react.
But then they'd be watching him, and he couldn't stand that.
Maybe if he just held still, someone would come give him a sedative. Then he wouldn't have to think. Then he wouldn't have to feel.
The moon glows…
Irvine was next to him. It was good to see Irvine. Until he thought of what Irvine was seeing. Then he wanted to curl up and hide.
Kadowaki was pumping drugs into him. He felt drowsy and limp. They undid his restraints, and he panicked, worried he'd attack them. But no, he couldn't move at all. They carried him into the next room and onto a table.
Irvine was rubbing his arm, gently, warmly. He hadn't been touched in so long. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't move.
The river flows…
Oh Hyne.
Oh Hyne.
You…
You were…
You wanted…
Paperclip!
So much rage…
You were looking out for me…
Rinoa?
And Wena…
So much blood…
And Selphie…
(Focus, boys. We're not through yet.)
But I'd die
without you…
They lay in bed, curled up in the blankets to ward off the winter chill, lazy and sensual after a long lovemaking.
He screamed in denial as the blade tore through his lover.
He choked back a laugh as his lover cracked a grin.
They raced through the underbrush, weapons ready, eyes searching for the camouflaged targets.
They sat together in silence as they worked, splitting the tax papers between them.
He held his lover's hand as they gave CPR one last try.
They made out in the broom closet, heavy with lust and the heat itch.
They danced in the starlit quiet of their apartment, making up their own music.
They held each other as the night terrors gripped them, waiting for dawn.
They held fast to each other, and nothing would ever separate them again.
Life goes on
but I'm gone…
'Cause I'd die
without you…
(Boys? Boys…Squall Irvine, pull it together.)
Eh?
(Oh come on it wasn't that bad.)
It was screaming torment, thank you very much.
(They're not going to stick like that, are they?)
(Don't be ridiculous. Look, they're already separating a bit.)
"Frrdja sebaoudeem?"
Everything's shaking.
It's okay. It's okay, right?
(Should be. Take a moment to adjust.)
Wait. Which one am I? Fuck! Which one am I?!
(I think you're Squall. Wait, no… it's so difficult to tell now. Don't worry, it should fix itself if you'll just relax and give it a minute.)
Am I… am I dead?
(No, love, you're not dead. This one's Squall.)
(And that would make this one Irvine. Oh good, he lived.)
Oh good! Come here you fluff brained candlegoat I'm going to rip your horns off!
"Gyo fyerfyer rimofg."
Do you know what he's saying?
No, do you?
:P
Well, I know what that means.
(IF EVERYONE… would just RELAX for a minute… oy. Things would sort themselves out.)
(Chill yourself, firebrain, you're giving me a headache.)
Did it… work? Something… the thing, did it work?
Well, I'm still here. Wait, I'm not Irvine. You're still here. You're alive! Oh thank Hyne.
Thank me, I'm the one who did the living. It's so bloody cold in here.
So, now what?
(Now you wake up.)
Author's Notes – Whoo boy, lemme think. Um, NSAID is the active ingredient in painkillers. I've decided 1 gil 1 cent (making it similar to yen), since a tank of gas in the game cost 3,000 gil. So, 2k gil is $20, and 8k is $80. My spell checker insists koi isn't a word. A combo rock skipper and armor fish, or alternatively, poppin' imp and rolling logs (Galbadian code), is a SeeD manuever where the troops take turns advancing and covering the advancer, using terrain cover and keeping a tight formation for better defense. Best used in a staggered, tight terrain, such as a rubble filled sidestreet. I own both the romance and mystery novel described, and they're both rubbish. No, I won't explain this chapter. If it doesn't make sense, just think of it as a head trip. Bonus points if you recognize the song.