Chapter 6 – No Time At All
Over twenty years ago...
"Barque, please get the door for me, my arms are full!" Edea cried, two screaming babies in each arm.
Barque pushed himself to his feet and doffed his shirt, tossing it into the corner, the sweet stench of baby vomit wafting along with it. He poked his finger to the tiny tot in front of him that he'd been trying to feed - "I'll get back to you, buddy." - and walked over to the front door of the orphanage.
Outside it was blowing a gale. Rain slammed down upon the ground in sheets, the wind tore at the ancient stone which made the orphanage. The night sky was thick with thunderclouds, lightening shrieking down from the heavens to cut the ocean apart, sending light across the peninsula as Barque pulled the door open, scowling at the rain as it beat down on his shirtless body. Not seeming to mind the biting cold, he quickly shut the door behind him before walking forward, looking down the columned path leading up from the beach.
A dark figure staggered in the wind, the rain and darkness obscuring any real shape. Barque narrowed his eyes – monsters were rife on this continent, and he had thought he'd discouraged any from getting this close to the orphanage again. He took a step forward, about to set out to investigate further – before he heard the first cries.
Wheeling around, he looked down behind one of the large marbles pillars flanking the thick oak door to see a bundle of cloth, dripping wet and squirming in the darkness. Flashes of light lit up the sky like explosions as he knelt down to pick up the bundle and heard the squalling youth wrapped within.
He turned and pushed the door open in a flash, kicking it closed behind him as he made his way to the fire, kneeling beside it as Edea entered the room. "Barque, what is it?" She asked.
"Looks like we got a new delivery..." He said with a smile, peeling the wet blankets off the baby to reveal a boy, barely born, his little fists balled tightly as he screamed bloody murder.
Edea smiled and cooed as she took him from Barque's arms. "My gods, it looks like he's only been born! But the nearest settlement from here is at least half a days walk – did you see a car or a boat out on the beach?" She asked Barque, looking up at the older man, seeing him dripping wet and shivering – but something told her it wasn't from the cold. "Barque, whats wrong?"
"...His eyes..." The old fist-fighter whispered.
"Yes, they're a delightful shade of blue aren't they?" Edea said giddily, rocking the boy to and fro as he began to warm up before the fire. "And look at this lovely shock of blond hair, isn't it adorable..." She continued, looking up – to watch Barque's naked back disappear out the door, the massive oak left wide open, letting the screaming storm into the orphanage. Still cradling the youth in her arms, the raven haired woman jumped to her feet and rushed to the door, having to press her back against the thick wood and push with all her might to shut it, the screaming wind and rain matching the squall of the child in her arms.
Outside, Barque ran with unbelievable speed, leaping over a giant rock jutting from the ground and vaulting over a felled tree as he came to the point where he'd seen the dark shape disappear. He looked left and right, his eyes wild, the rainwater dripping from his face and rolling out of his beard – before lightening illuminated the world for the briefest of seconds, revealing a man staggering down the sodden path towards the beach.
Barque was on him in an instant, erupting from his spot to slam into his back in an instant, the two men tumbling down the steep incline all the way down to the beach. The rain thundered down upon them as the thunder shook the very earth they stood on, lightening slashing down to show the man the wild look in the tattooed man's face. The man wouldn't have been even twenty, his face ashen and grey.
"Where did you get the boy? Is he yours?" Barque roared over the rain, gripping the man's coat tightly in both fists and shaking him viciously. "Answer me!"
The man couldn't say a word but lift a trembling finger to point towards the sea.
"What? What is it?" Barque cried, looking up...to see it.
A massive ship loomed out of the sea, its wooden decking and hull smashed almost to smithereens, the monolithic structure being smashed again and again by the waves of the ocean. Barque could see the tiny dingy that the man had taken to get to shore. Smoke was billowing out of the hull, and in the darkness Barque could see several spot fires within the center of the hull.
"S-she made me...she m-made me p-promise..." The man whimpered, to which Barque snapped his attention yet again.
"Who are you? Are you the boy's father?"
"N-no...n-not m-me..."
"Then who, damn you! Who was the mother? I want a name!" Barque bellowed over the thunder – only to feel the man shudder under his hands, his head lolling back before his body fell still.
Barque dropped him to the ground before ripping open his coat – to reveal the massive injuries that man had sustained, burns covering the majority of his body as well as a sizable chunk of flesh missing from the lower right portion of his torso, and as the lightening flashed again, Barque looked down at his hands and chest to see them covered in crimson.
"You bastard..." Barque breathed, his words swallowed by the wind. "You poor brave bastard...thank you...thank you so much." He whispered, kneeling down again and sweeping the body up into a hug, crushing the dead man to him. "...You did a good thing today boy..." He whispered into the dead man's ear as rain washed over the both of them. "...A real good thing.."
He carried the body back to the dingy, placing it gently onto it before pushing it out into the smashing waves, watching as it was taken out into the wide open sea. The salt water washed the blood from his body, but he wasn't done yet. He set forth into the ocean, the pouring rain churning the sea almost into foam were it not for the waves washing them out, and as he neared the destroyed hulk he dove down under the water, the waves seeming to not heed him at all.
Suddenly the monolithic hulk rocked in the water, like some great beast had shifted it off its back, and the waves snapped it in two, crushing it down into a billion pieces and sucking it out into the great depths. Slowly Barque swam to the shore, emerging from the sea and walking out into the rain sodden sand, pausing to look out at the last pieces of the ship as it disappeared under the water, flashes of lightening framing its descent before the bottomless depths claimed it forever.
He made his way back to the orphanage slowly, soaked to the bone, now visibly shaking, and when he approached the orphanage he had to stop at the doorway to compose himself before entering. Edea was there and ready with a warmed towel and a blanket for him to dry and warm himself, her questions going unanswered for so long that she would eventually give up, the two of them sitting before the fire and the tiny cot before it, staking claim to their new prize. Only the crackle of the fire and the soft sounds of the baby breathing filled the silence within the room, Edea rocking the cot slowly and methodically, Barque sitting back wrapped in a blanket, his sodden beard steaming from the fire, beads of persperation seeming to form around his tattooed face.
"He's bouncing back from his little ordeal quite well...I've already fed him...took him a while to calm but he eventually feel asleep...i must say...he has a zest for life..." She whispered, gently rocking the cot to and fro, watching the little baby sleep.
Barque said nothing, only looking down at the boy with a blank expression for a moment before looking back to the flame.
"Zest for life...How about Zell for a name? Zest, Zell...fitting, don't you think?" She continued, smiling gently down to the boy.
"...Aye." Barque agreed with a small nod, before standing. "...I think...I think I need to go to bed now."
"Barque...are you alright?" Edea called to him as he made his way to their room, watching as he paused at the door...
Quistis burst into the infirmary, her eyes full of tears. Pandemonium filled the room – Rinoa, still in Angel form, had four students holding her back, their arms clawing for purchase as her wings flapping erratically, fighting against them, screaming out telepathically and causing everybody around her to cringe in pain. She twisted around, throwing one student off one of her wings by extending it out fully, the girl flying across the room to collapse against several stretchers, bodies spilling onto the ground as she crumpled to the floor. Gritting her teeth, the sorceress let out a sudden burst of electricity, the shock causing the rest of the students to release her – before she leapt back onto a stretcher and began to blast Full Life down into the body she straddled, again and again, her glowing tears streaming down her face.
Quistis was pushed forward by a rushing Selphie, the smaller girl almost knocking her down as she ran down the aisle...to ignore Rinoa completely but simply collapse as she ran, falling to the floor in a sobbing fit, sliding on the smooth cold floor to a limp stop.
Angel and Dee were next. Angel stood beside Quistis, the librarian looking around the room in complete shock – before Dee rushed past her. "C'mon!" She cried. "We gotta stop Rinoa before she hurts someone !"
"...I..." Quistis croaked, reaching up to remove her glasses, clasping them in her hand as it fell back to her side. "...I..."
Angel said nothing. She clasped her hands to her chest, looking down at the ground, unable to speak, unable to move. On the other side of the infirmary, Rinoa was beginning to punch and beat the body she was straddling, her psychic roars becoming almost unable to bear.
"Dammit!" The young Immortal spat before rushing forward. Thunder was beginning to emit from the area, lightening arcing out to blast students and SeeD's away alike, flipping them across the infirmary like rag dolls. Vaulting over a fallen stretcher and sliding under another, Dee rolled around a fleeing student and slammed into a wide-eyed Kadowaki, the doctor falling to the ground and looking up to Dee in shock, a hypodermic needle grasped tightly in her shaking hand. She had been trying to fight the urge to run before Dee had gotten her out of the way of a haphazard Thundara.
"...Sed...sed...sed..." She stammered, before Dee rudely grabbed the needle out of her hand.
"Sedative, I get it." Dee muttered, putting the needle in her mouth and pulling her hair back into a ponytail, drawing a large breath in through her nostrils...before starting.
Skidding out from behind the stretcher she had hid Kadowaki, she immediately leapt back across to it, lightening arcing out to blow a chunk of concrete from where she had been crouched just a moment before. Launching off the stretcher, she ran along the wall for three steps, leaping off from it to slam straight into Rinoa's back, knocking the two of them off the stretcher and onto the ground, the sorceress immediately beginning to kick and punch the younger girl, static flashing off her to score Dee's flesh, the Immortal gritting her teeth hard as she grabbed Rinoa's hands, pulled her arms out wide – and headbutted her viciously, the sickening crack emitting over the crackle of static and rumble of thunder echoing throughout the infirmary.
Rinoa, now with a small cut on the forehead, looked to Dee with a blazing anger in her glowing eyes, blood slowly oozing from the wound...before the glow began to slowly fade. The sorceress blinked, reaching up to grasp the hypodermic needle jutting from the vein in her neck, pulling it out and looking at it confusingly – before her eyes rolled back into her skull and she relaxed, collapsing to the ground.
Breathing heavily and clutching the bleeding, smoking scorch in her side, Dee pushed herself to her feet gingerly, looking out over the infirmary. The pandemonium had been replaced by mute chaos – girls began to slowly appear from cover to rush out to their wards, replacing IV-bags and getting them back into their beds. Dr. Kadowaki had to be helped to her feet before she could hobble over to Dee. "Thank you my dear...I'm afraid she had lost complete control when she had seen..."
Her voice trailed off as she realized what Dee was looking at, her torment welling in her eyes. Kadowaki looked down to Squall, lying on the ground, a mass of limp limbs. IV cords snaked from both arms, a tube still wedged down his throat. He was shirtless, several monitoring pads attached to his chest, two defib-pads stuck to his left breast, flanking his heart. The skin around the defib pads were curled, blistered and scorched, and if the shock wasn't still spinning in Dee's mind, she would've realised that, Full Life not working, the hysterical Sorceress had tried to jump start his heart with her magic.
Dee's eyes tore themselves away from Squall's body slowly, looking up to the surrounding stretchers. Sound seemed to bleed away from the world, everything beginning to move in slow motion, like some kind of ancient silent film.
Seifer's was closest. Quistis stood before it, one hand still grasping her glasses tight, the other gripping his ankle, the only thing protruding from the blanket which covered his body. Her head was bowed, the tears falling from behind the blond tresses which shielded her face from outside view. The hand that gripped the ankle tugged it again and again, as if to rouse him from his slumber, ready for the new day.
Selphie lay on the floor in the aisle still, her mouth wide as she wailed noiselessly, her fingers gripping at the smooth tiled floor. Tears were streaming down her face, her nose running as well – she looked like a lost child, crying for her mother. But she was looking over to the stretcher beside Seifer's – and the cowboy hat that lay discarded on the floor beside it, a limp hand hanging out from beneath a sheet.
She didn't want to look. Her heartbeat, already jacked up from subduing Rinoa, was beginning to feel like it was going to burst from her chest. She saw her adopted mother, the woman she considered one of the closest people she knew, begin to walk down the aisle. Angel's face was serene, calm, blank of emotion. She turned to look to Quistis as she walked by her, stepping around Selphie delicately, before stepping up to -
Dee's hand grasped her shoulder, gripping it tightly as Angel grasped the corner of the sheet covering the body on the stretcher. "Ma..." Dee whispered, her hand digging into the librarian's shoulder. "...Dont. Please...i'm beggin' you..."
The sheet billowed out as Angel yanked it off the stretcher. Her knuckles were white as she looked down at Zell.
His arms hung loose off the sides of the bed. The mattress-sheet had come loose during the attempts to revive him, and had crumpled around his body. IV cords ran from his arms up to half-full IV bags, empty bags strewn over the floor. Half-full bags of melting ice surrounded the body, some still resting on his chest and stomach. His head had lolled to the side, displaying the tattoo on his face, his eyes gazing straight up to the ceiling. His hair was matted with still-drying sweat. An air-tube still protruded from his mouth, the air-pump resting discarded besides the pillow.
As Dee released Angel's shoulder and sank to the ground, burying her head in her hands, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed, Angel lifted her hands to her head, one hand still gripping the sheet, her fists balled as she pressed them to the sides of her head, as if her brains were about to explode from her ears – before she released an ear-splitting scream, the anguished howl echoing out into the bowls of the Garden.
"We did everything we could."
Dr. Kadowaki stood at the classroom window, looking down at the Quad, and the many, many bodies piling up wihtin. Even as she spoke, she could see more girls taking more and more bodies into the area, placing them down upon others. The smell was beginning to become terrible, even from her high view – the girls on the ground had been issued gas masks to cope with the smell and reduce the risk of disease. It wouldn't be long before they would have to perform a mass funeral – with a body count of this magnitude, it would either be a massive pyre, or a water funeral.
"This disease...virus...whatever it is...its... its elusive. We've tested and tested and still found absolutely nothing."
Matron sat at one of the classroom desks, her elbow resting on the desk, her head in her hand. She drew in a long breath before she spoke. "...Could it be magical?"
"Perhaps, but there would be signs of some sort that we would have noticed by now...some kind of mass casting from someone, or some kind of paramagical buildup somewhere...but there's nothing. Nothing we can tell at the moment, anyways."
"Have we gotten any autopsy reports from the Galbadian nation? Or Galbadia Garden?"
Dr. Kadowaki turned around to lean against the window sill, unable to look down at the Quad any longer. "Initial reports indicate a nervous system shut-down – whatever it is, it attacked the brain, and viciously. It seemed to eat away at the central cortex, literally disintegrating it, rendering the bodies useless. The effects are gradual after that...the body begins to shut down one vital organ after another like...someone yanking out a cog in a great, intricate machine, and the rest of the gears eventually slow to a stop." She looked up to Matron, whose distressed look was obvious. Kadowaki held a hand up, shrugging apologetically. "...It looked worse then it was, if thats any consolation. ...Its extremely likely they didn't feel a thing after the initial panic before they passed out. After that it was just...a matter of time before the body shuts down..."
This seemed to give Matron some relief, who covered her eyes with her hand, drawing in a ragged breath before sitting back in her chair and folding her hands back into her lap, looking back up to Dr. Kadowaki, her eyes red but focused. "What about the rest of the planet. Any reports?"
"Well, we know about Deling and Timber...we've gotten reports from Dollet and Winhill of similar predictaments, but we're unsure of numbers. FH as well. There are scattered reports from villages around Trabia and Centra too." She sighed then, frowning before she spoke. "...Esthar has gone into total lockdown. No-ones been able to communicate with them at all, and its far too early to organise a search party..."
"Despite his bumbling nature, Laguna knows what he is doing." Matron replied confidently. "Estharians are shrewd people...they can wait until we've sorted our own situation out."
The two women fell silent. Dr. Kadowaki turned to look down at the Quad again, Matron looking down at the desk she sat at. It had once been Squalls, before he had completed his SeeDship and became Commander of Balamb. She still remembered meeting him, after the Time Compression, bleeding and beaten after defeating Ultimecea. Even then, so utterly ruined, he had a determined look in his eyes, a strength that defied logic. She had raised him in the orphanage for so long, remembering the rare smiles she'd coaxed out of him, throwing a tiny parade every time he would laugh, which would then cause the rest of the children to laugh...little Quistis, always serious and protective of Squall...Seifer, causing mischeif as usual...Zell, bursting full of energy and always the attention seeker...Irvine, always hanging out with the girls...Selphie, always clinging to Ellone's skirts, watching the boys from afar with wide-eyed wonderment...
The tears began to fall once again, and she chided herself mentally. "Come now..." She whispered to herself as she used the hem of her sleeve to wipe them away.
Dr. Kadowaki approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, Matron reaching up with her free hand to squeeze it gently. "...Edea..." Kadowaki began gently as Matron patted her hand, already knowing what she was going to say.
"...I know. I've lost a husband and some of my babies...but all I need is to make sure the rest stay safe." She said firmly. "...We need to figure this out. Not just Garden, not just us...but the rest of the world."
"Have you seen them since they got the news?" Dr. Kadowaki asked.
"Quistis had retreated into herself, as she always does...probably blaming herself one way or another...Selphie is inconsolable. She locked herself in their room and refused to open the door when I knocked. She will come out when she's hungry. Rinoa is resting with Angel and Dee – she apologizes for her outburst, by the way."
Kadowaki waved her hand dismissively. Edea continued. "Angel and Dee seem to be taking things in stride. I think they are dealing with it together...however, Angel hasn't left Rinoa's side yet..." She paused briefly, looking down at her hands as she spoke quietly. " ...Perhaps the Sorceress powers between Rinoa and herself help with..." She cut herself off, shaking her head dismissively.
"...About that..." Kadowaki said gravely, to which Matron raised a hand.
"I will not discuss it."
"You're no longer a threat, Edea, but we have two sorceresses who have just lost their knights. It will have to come up sooner or later, and the sooner the better." Her eyes narrowed as she leaned closer to Edea, her voice lowering to a whisper. "You know what power Angel contains now..."
"I understand that more then you ever could, but I'm telling you right now, you have nothing to concern yourself, or anybody else, about." Edea muttered with a simmering irritable nature in her voice, turning to look Kadowaki dead in the eye to ram the point home before looking back down to the hem of her sleeve, tugging at the tear stains covering it. "Besides...when Ultimecia took me over, I had nobody...Cid was here, running the Garden, and he..." Her voice trailed off for a moment, her eyes growing distant before she continued. "...And the children no longer...worked."
Dr. Kadowaki regarded Matron cautiously, frowning slightly. "What do you mean?"
Matron shook her head slightly, patting Kadowaki's hand again. "One day, when this is all behind us, I'll tell you. But for now..." She pushed herself to her feet, brushing down her skirts as she did, the smooth grey dress exemplifying her curves. "...I think I'll go check on Quistis again."
"Good luck." Dr. Kadowaki said, watching Matron leave the classroom, before turning to look down at the Quad once more. The weeks that follow would be the most difficult...of this she was sure.
Rinoa lay on the end of the bed, Angelo lying at the foot of the bed, his head resting on his forepaws, snoring quietly. The room was dark save for light slipping past the shades covering the window and cutting lines into the wall on the other side of the room.
The sorceress had awoken from another exhausted slumber slowly, having tired herself out with crying, her last memory being pain before the darkness engulfed her. She did not move from her position, resigning herself to watching the shafts of light on the wall dance as a soft breeze flowed through the window. Angel and Dee had disappeared, probably so she could rest properly...but she would never sleep restfully again. Not now.
She looked around the room, her eyes already adjusted to the gloom, her body still like a statue of a reclined goddess. Aside from the chaotically rumpled sheets and the recliners which had been moved from the living area to flank the bed, it was the same as always – spartan but for a woman's touch. Squall's life had been rather bare before Rinoa – barely anything distinguished the room from any other empty SeeD room, until you opened the cupboards to find neatly pressed clothes, and saw the alphabetically organized books and videos on the shelves. Squall didn't even have any personal furniture.
Now instead of only being the tv remote on the coffee table in the tiny lounge, there was a single, small vase with a bunch of small white flowers, carnations from the fields around Winhill – their 'place', the one where they had promised each other to find each other. Rinoa had spent weeks searching the Void there...searching for him. Whilst in the Void, time stood still – eternity forever. It had been a difficult month, searching for him, her searching growing more and more desperate every time she stepped into the nothingness...
Now Rinoa lived in the Void. The world was now truly black and white, all color bled from life like a beautiful animal with its throat slit. There was no joy in breath, taste or touch – sight, sound and smell all ground against her like course sandpaper. The picture of them in the Quad, Rinoa waving down the barrel of the camera while Squall bared the smallest of smiles. The smell of his gunblade's holster still lingered in the air – that thick leather smell hung heavy in the room. Before she would've complained about it and told him to oil it outside in the hall or in other room – now it brought tears to her eyes for another reason.
Her eyes slowly peeled away from the dancing shafts of light to the desk which they played down upon. Night after night he would sit there, head down, pen annoting paper succinctly, heaving a sigh as the pen paused, lifting to his lips to tap against the bottom one slowly, his scarred forehead creasing slightly in concentration before the pen would move back to paper, the slight scratching resuming once more. She would watch him from this exact position, long into the night, watching him work, watching him use his sharp mind to defeat enemies instead of the sharp weapon sheathed beside the desk, before he would finally place the mighty pen down and snap off the light, plunging the room into darkness – except for the shaft of moonlight swaying over him from the window as he stood, pushing the chair back in under the desk and turning to look to her.
A weary smile would creep over his tired face as he would approach the bed. She would reach forward to stroke his naked chest, feeling the scars on his flesh before hooking her fingers into his belt, pulling him down to her to hold him close, wrapping her arms and legs around him and clutching him tightly, stroking his hair as he breathed in the smell of her hair...
Tears cut channels down her cheeks, following old trails as she withdrew her hand from when she had tentatively raised it. She pulled it back towards her slowly, as if afraid of it, before letting it rest back where it had been before – only raised, the palm facing her and the fingers curled out, so the desk was hidden.
It did not help. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she buried her head into her knees and tried hard to not think about anything at all.
Angel and Dee had left Rinoa to sleep, but Angel had only gotten as far as her own room before she had asked Dee to move on without her. The librarian's eyes seemed dead when she had looked at Dee, and the younger woman was disgusted to feel a little happy to let her go – their combined grief had been too much for her to handle. Now she was alone, just as she had wanted – but there was nowhere to go. Death filled the corridors of the Garden, grief hung in its halls, hopelessness filled the air. Everywhere she went there was nothing but sadness. Women and girls, faces gaunt from the gory work, slumped in the halls, too tired to walk to their rooms. Too many were weeping, too many were sobbing, too many were grieving.
She wished for an escape, and had gripped the Uni-Blade tightly within her pocket, grasping it so tightly she could feel it creaking under her fingers. How easy would it be to cut her way into another world, slice a barrier away and move to a world full of life once more?
She wished she was back with her people, back to a place where death is something you could choose, even celebrate if you wished. This world, with its sudden and rude departures, sickened her, and as she walked she actually felt her stomach churning, placing a hand upon it in a vain effort to placate it. Growing quickly pale, she elbowed a girl out of her way and came upon a trash-receptacle beside a bench in the main foyer. She grasped the edges of the rubbish-bin with both hands as she vomited into it, heaving loudly, expelling the protein bars she had eaten all the way back in Trabia, and the tea and biscuits from Timber. Tears fell from her face as she began to sob loudly, her whole body shaking with the sobs as confusion rattling around within her brain as to why she was being sick in a rubbish bin when she had been feeling fine up till now...
Suddenly she felt warm hands caress her back, soft voices gently easing her mind as she used her sleeve to wipe her mouth, her face burning hot red with embarrassment at the state she was in.
When she looked up she saw the Matron lady, the woman Quistis and Selphie talked about with such warmth in their voices. The older woman seemed to have a glow about her, her raven hair framing her still-beautiful face, and as she smiled down to the girl she asked her if she was okay. The words entered Dee's ears like a warm silk breeze, completely slipping past her defenses and striking her heart like a sharpened spike, lancing the coldness which was beginning to form before it had even had a chance to take shape.
The girl sunk to her knees, her sobs now meeting the crescendo of wails around her as she gripped the Matron's skirt with both hands, burying her face into the soft fabric and wept out her soul, feeling the soothing touch brush her hair back, smoothing it down, smothering the anguish with the gentle touch and even gentler words.
Selphie worked. Pressing the release on the handle of the gun, she pulled the magazine from the feed in the bottom of the Vincent Valentine .45, placing the gun down as she pulled the .45 ammunition box to sit in front of her and flicked the bullets out with her thumb, one at a time. She needed to keep the springs in the magazines supple – leaving the bullets in for long periods made the springs less springy, unable to push the bullets into the chambers as efficiently as a fresh spring and potentially causing jams by leaving bullets sitting halfway into the chamber. When the magazine was empty she placed it to one side and pressed in the release stud on the underside of the rack and pulled the slide lever down, allowing the slide to be pulled out from the body of the handgun, exposing the barrel and spring within.
It was the only thing she could do. She'd tried crying. That had worked for a while, but soon she had found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, his hat in her hands, her feet bopping up and down rapidly on the ground as she stared into space. She didn't know how long she'd done it for. Time felt like it was slow.
She'd tried throwing a fit. She'd thrown the hat away and tipped over the coffee table, allowing the glass top to shatter brilliantly as she picked up a spare handgun magazine he'd left in the folds of the couch and thrown it at the TV with all her might, flinching as it exploded into blue sparks, smoke pouring out of the shattered front. She'd screamed until her voice was hoarse, then screamed some more until she spat blood. She'd hugged herself so tightly that her nails had dug into the flesh in her arms, smashed her fists into the walls, chairs, tables, cupboards, anything that was in reach. Once she'd demolished the couch, literally tearing it apart with her bloodied hands, an eerie calm washed over her.
She'd gone to his desk and pushed the buildup of papers and soda cans onto the floor, ignoring the clatter as she sat down at the chair. His desk wasn't really a desk anymore – over the years he'd added bits and pieces to it until it had become something of a gun locker/station. Everything he'd need was here – spare barrels for his handguns and rifles, ammo stacked neatly in boxes to one side that auto-fed into a series of pigeon-holes for easy access, and enough screws, springs and bolts to keep a tinker happy for hours.
Sucking the blood from her thumb, she had placed it onto the pad before her, allowing it to scan and unlock the desk, components springing open and sliding out for her to use. Selphie had almost strangled him when he had first shown it to her – she had found it so cool, she demanded to be able to use it – then never did, except to keep some spare chain for her nunchaku.
Grabbing the appropriate rod from a drawer, she attached the right rag and, with a squirt of gun-oil, began to clean the barrel of the gun, running the rod and rag down into the barrel, cleaning the rifling and keeping it squeaky clean. Once that was done she placed it down and picked up the handle of the gun, picking up another, different rag and began to polish the magazine feed and rack, pushing the rag down into the handle to get any loose grit from the trigger.
She worked silently. She could see him doing this, almost every time they'd had a spare moment. She remembered the first time she'd seen him do it – on the train he had given up bugging her and sat down in the aisle quietly, seeming to not want to leave her side. He'd pulled his shotgun apart as quickly as she'd been able to see, deftly holding the stock under his arm as he'd checked the barrels, pulling out a small rag to clean a bit of accumulated dirt from the lever-point. He'd worked with such an intense look on his face, she had been slightly taken aback – his eyes no longer held the glinting charisma he'd been sporting before. She'd found out later that there was a reason he was so serious about the cleanliness of his guns – without them, he was almost defenseless. Being paramagically impotent left him at a great disadvantage to most other enemies and monsters – thus, he had become quite pragmatic about the maintenance of his guns.
She looked up at the rack above the desk. There were around eight shotguns and rifles hung there, including the shotgun he'd been using when she had met him. Pausing in her work, she reached up to run her fingers over the stock, marred and chipped from the battles they had been in.
Looking back down at the handle in her hand, she replaced the spring and barrel, sliding the rack back into the place and letting the rack lever to spring back into place with a click!
Pulling the slide back so the chamber was exposed, the rack lever clicking into place to keep it held back, she dug into the ammo box beside her and pulled out a .45 round. She held the fat bullet between her forefinger and thumb, regarding it impassively, before placing it into the chamber of the gun. She looked down at the golden shell in the gun winking up at her, a bloodied thumbprint on the edge of the shell casing – before her thumb pressed the rack slide down, the rack slamming into place with a jarring metallic snap. She drew a long breath into her lungs, closing her eyes as she felt her chest expand before letting the breath out through her nose...
A knock on the door made her jump in her chair. The silence had cocooned her, wrapping her up warmly, and the sudden sound was like a cattle prod to the spine. The knock came again and she realized that she had been staring at the door. She quickly pulled the slide of the Vincent Valentine back, the .45 bullet flipping out to be caught in her hand. She placed both the gun and the blood-smudged bullet onto the desk and got up, moving over to the door to open it wide, looking out to Angel. The librarian smiled down to her, her eyes red and puffy, and Selphie looked down at what she was holding onto in her hands.
"I...I t-thought you could use a h-hot c-chocolate..."Angel stammered, trying to hold back tears as she saw what state Selphie was in. "B-but i-if you don't want it..."
Selphie closed the door quickly, her eyes wide as she looked back to the room, the sounds of Angel's sobbing soft through the door. She looked back at the destruction that was surrounding her and felt something bubble out from the emptiness that had swallowed her insides. Regret? She wasn't sure at the moment. All she knew was that she couldn't stay in the room another second longer – it would consume her, this room, and she suddenly, she needed to be far, far away from it.
She opened the door again and grabbed a cup from Angel's hand, startling the weeping woman. "...Thank you Angel..." She mumbled, looking from the cup to her tear stained face to the cup again – before turning and walking away without a word, not even bothering to shut the door behind her. Angel, feeling more then confused, looked from Selphie to the room and the carnage that had occurred within, before reaching out and closing the door – before setting forth to catch up with Selphie, having to break into a trot in order to catch up.
Within the room, the Vincent Valentine sat, alone except for the blood-stained bullet that had only just occupied its chamber.
Silence once more wrapped itself around the room, smothering it completely.
Quistis walked amongst the dead within the Quad, her beautiful face covered by a mask which held back both the smell and the risk of disease. The bodies had all been collected now – over four thousand males, men, teenagers and boys, all wrapped in blankets or curtains, anything to keep their bodies contained. There were about twenty women and girls who had volunteered to confirm the identities of them all – these girls were now walking down the rows slowly, crouching down to stare at dead, holding ID pads over their faces so it could scan them and check the SeeD databases.
She had cried. She'd gone back to their room and beat her fists against the walls, screamed into a pillow until she was hoarse. She'd taken a long, hot shower, scrubbing herself until she actually felt the pain. Then she had dressed in some clean clothes, placed the dirty ones into the washing recepticle, made sure her hair was done and shut the door behind her, making sure it was firmly locked.
Her blue eyes scanned the rows upon rows of bodies. They were dry, but there was a glint of determination in them. The glint had been there the instance she'd felt pain again in her body, the epiphany rocking her as the water had cascaded down around her.
She knew what had to be done. She knew what would fix this.
She just needed to convince the others.
Rinoa stepped out of the elevator to the third floor to look over the bridge of the Garden. All the stations had been manned by their female counterparts – there was no risk of the Garden having a malfunction in this time of crisis. Matron stood at the head of the bridge, Xu at the helm. Quistis stood beside her, talking to her and Xu. Angel, Selphie and Dee all sat at a couch at the base of the bridge, behind Cid's desk. Rinoa vaguely noted that it looked smaller without him sitting behind it.
Quistis looked up as Rinoa entered, bending down to say something to Xu again before standing upright again. Matron grabbed her sleeve, a piercing look burning at Quistis – who shrugged her hand free as she walked down to Rinoa and wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. "Hey Rinoa..." She whispered as she held her tightly, the sorceress' arms hanging limply by her sides. Quistis pulled back after a second, grasping her shoulders and smiling to her, nodding encouragingly. "...Thanks for coming out."
She turned to the trio sitting on the couch behind her. "Thanks to all of you. I...I know this is difficult, but, I think..."
"Quistis!" Matron barked.
"...I have a solution." Quistis finished, looking straight to Matron as she said it.
Matron's heart dropped as she watched all the girl's head's look up to Quistis. Rinoa shook her head as tears began to fall down her cheeks once more.
Quistis turned back to Rinoa and held her close again. "It's okay, shh, its alright..."
"No, no I know what you want to do..." Rinoa groaned, shaking her head again as she began thumping her fist weakly into Quistis' side.
"Its too risky, Quistis!" Matron barked again.
"...What is?" Dee asked quietly to Angel, whose face had gone ashen white.
"Our world is dying and we need to find a solution, this is the best solution, the only solution!" Quistis began to say, before being cut off by Matron.
"It may seem like a solution Quistis, but its not, because you'll be condemning yourself to the a similar fate as...!"
"I already told you, we did it before..."
"Yes, and you almost killed yourself in the process, not to mention, you did it to stop someone from doing exactly the same thing you are asking us to condone now! You cant change your mind about this just because the circumstances have changed!"
"But they have!" Quistis cried, holding Rinoa closer, the sorceresses beginning to have to fight for breath.
"What has?" Dee cried.
"...We have to." Selphie said, speaking up. "...This isn't some selfish reason, Quistis is right, we need to do it for the world..."
"Squall would never agree to this!" Rinoa cried again, pushing herself from Quistis' embrace to step away from them all, almost tripping over in the process. "You're mad for even thinking it! All of you, mad!" She screamed before running out of the room, her face buried in her hands.
"Rinoa, wait!" Quistis cried, running after her – before tripping on the same step Rinoa stumbled on, falling to her hands and feet with a cry.
"Okay, time out!" Dee shouted, shoving herself to her feet and walking to the middle of the room. "I want to know what the fuck everybody is talking about, and I wanna know now!"
The entire bridge was still before a single voice spoke up, serene like a summer breeze.
"...Time Compression."
All eyes turned down to Angel. The woman had sat back into the couch when Dee had stood up, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She spoke softly, the sadness rife in her voice as she spoke to her knees. "...She wants to compress time to the point before all the men got sick. She wants to fix all this by turning back the clock, making it so it doesn't happen."
Dee had her hands on her hips, nodding as her adoptive mother spoke. "Right, okay, and why haven't we done this already?" She asked nobody in particular. To her, this sounded like a brilliant idea.
"Because the timeline isn't something you just ride like a train or mold into the shape you want." Matron said morosely as she walked down from the helm and into the center of the room, looking down to Dee but also looking around the room as a whole, speaking to all present. "The whole reason we formed SeeD and the Gardens was to prevent something like this from happening – people thinking that, because they have power, they should use it. A power this large should never, ever be used for personal gain!"
"But its not for..." Quistis cried, only to be cut off by Matron, they older woman's voice booming around the bridge.
"Personal gain! And don't try to justify it as anything else!" She repeated, stabbing a finger to Quistis, causing the woman to cringe on the floor. "We would be as guilty of it as Ultimecia, and do not think yourself above her anymore then you would above any one of these women around us! What you are asking is to change the fundamental rules of the universe itself, and we were not meant to do that!"
"Obviously we were, seeing as Rinoa has the power!" Quistis retorted.
Matron shook her head, folding her arms under her chest as she spoke out again. "Rinoa has the power but she cannot focus it! Only Ellone has that ability. Do you understand?"
"Then what do we do?" Dee cried. "What is going to happen now! I'll tell you whats going to happen now, we're all going to die, thats what! Without the guys around, we'll all just grow old and wither away, one by one!"
"Not nessecarily." Matron said with dignity. "The Gaian race still has a few cards up their sleeves...but for now, we have to put this nonsense out of our minds. We must not compress time! It is the single most dangerous thing to have ever happened to this world, and we will not be the instigators of a second chance! We only just beat Ultimecia the last time – we must not let that fight be in vain!"
She looked down to Dee, then to Quistis, before finally to Angel. "Do we all understand this?"
Dee looked back to Angel, who kept hugging her legs. Quistis pushed herself to her feet slowly, dusting herself off, her back turned to the group. Dee couldn't see her face as she stalked out of the room, the doors automatically shutting behind her.
"Matron..." Xu called, causing the older woman to turn to look up to the helm. "...We're receiving word from the White SeeD ship."
"Thank you Xu." Matron replied, before placing her hand on Dee's shoulder. "...My dear, do not lose hope. Things may be dark now, but we will find a way. We always have."
"Dont say it to me, say it to them." Dee muttered, cocking a thumb to Angel and Selphie, still half catatonic on the couch.
Matron looked to the woman, and Dee was shocked to see tears welling in her eyes. "Well...time is on our side still. There is always hope." Then she turned and walked away from Dee, walking around the couch to mount the ramp up to the helm.
Dee walked over to the two woman. She didn't know what to think. The whole world was going topsey-turvey, and it was threatening to take her with it. It was hard to stay detached, to keep an outside eye on the whole thing. Immortal background or not, these people were her family – her Pa was, at the very least. To her, this Time Compression thing sounded like the best plan so far – a way to wipe the slate clean. Unfortunately, it was so early to tell what was happening. A part of her knew that it was seemed like such a good idea because, at the moment in time, it was their only option available.
Dee looked down to Angel and Selphie. "Waddya you think, Selphie?" Dee whispered.
Selphie remained silent. The browned-haired girl turned her head to look to Angel, who continued to look forward. Dee bit her lip, waiting for one of them to say something.
She was surprised to hear Angel speak first. "...If we're to do it...we're going to have to do it without anybody's consent." She whispered. "Not Garden. Not the world. We'll be doing it for us, and only us. It'll be completely selfish, and totally arrogant, to think we can mess with Time and come out of it in one piece."
The two women before her were quiet for a moment.
"...I can live with that." Selphie murmured.
"...Me too." Dee replied with a slight but firm nod.
Selphie and Angel looked up as Matron walked back down the ramp, her face pale. Dee turned and blinked in surprise. "...Whats wrong?"
Matron looked like she had seen a ghost, her hands clasped before her tightly as she spoke. "...Ellone has received word from Esthar. They had a dignitary stationed in Galbadia as part of the peace agreement outlined after the Second Sorceress War was ended." She drew in a large breath. "...This dignitary has requested an audience with the most influential people left in the planet to discuss what has occurred."
"Sounds fair enough." Dee muttered, Angel and Selphie both looking down again. It was bound to happen eventually.
"That's not all...it seems the Estharians have decided that this has been a magical attack after all...they believe a Sorceress is the one behind it, and...they believe it was one person who did it."
Selphie, Angel and Dee all looked at Matron, wide eyed, disbelieving every word she had said. Matron drew in another large breath, letting it out slowly – before settling her eyes on Angel.
"...They believe it was you."
"Dunno what to say to ya, missy." Barque muttered through a mouthful of burger, chewing thoughtfully as he looked over to Patrick. "...But it figure it would be nice to be called a hero, if only for a little."
"You know exactly what I mean, Barque Dincht!" The woman shouted, waving her cooking spatula at him, causing him to wince as she shook little flecks of meat at him. She was a large woman – not portly, but solid. She certainly looked like she could handle herself in a fight. Her brown hair was wrapped neatly up in a green bandanna, a blue apron adorning her torso. Her brown eyes were ablaze. "Patrick's mercenary days are over now! He lost his father in this Sorceress War, I cant afford to lose him too!"
"Martha, we just helped the builders keep some monsters off the building site. It was the least we could do. Think of all the good this Garden place will do for the town once it opens..." Patrick started – before wincing himself as the spatula was leveled at him.
"And as for you – I let you goof off with this muscle-bound idiot because you say he reminds you of your father, but you mind me – no amount of martial arts nor bullets will help you if I catch you getting into mischief!"
The bearded fist-fighter chewed on the burger, watching the two stare at each other intently – before swallowing his meal and standing from the table, slapping his hands down on the table as he did. "Well! Ultimatums aside, its time for us to leave for work. C'mon Pat!"
"Aye Bar, time for work, yes indeed!" Patrick Dincht said, leaping to his feet and planting a kiss on Martha Dincht's flustered cheek, deftly ducking a right hook as he ran for the door, scooping up his backpack and rifle as he did. Steam seemed to be rising from Martha's ears as she watched the man exit the little home – before she felt Barque's lips press quickly against her other cheek. With reflexes like greased lightening, the spatula rose up to score his tattooed cheek, the metallic cooking implement bending back as it pressed against his bearded face before the force of the blow sending him reeling out the door, tumbling to the ground to roll to Patrick's feet.
"For Hyne's sake, man!" Barque cried as he caressed his throbbing cheek, a multi-beveled imprint caked with burger grease stamped over his tattoo. "Rein that woman in!"
"Red Dragons couldn't rein that woman in, married or no, now move it before she finds somethin' to throw!" Patrick shouted back to Barque, the fist-fighter looking up in surprise to see the rifleman already running down the road.
The sleepy little town of Balamb was abuzz. The only real civilized area on the island of Balamb had been opened up to the world thanks to the new railway system that had finally been completed a few months before Barques arrival – and not long after that had come the people with crazy ideas about the old Centran ruins in the center of the island.
The two men's race out of town quickly ground to a halt as they left the exit, Patrick's rifle leaving it's back-holster to rest lazily in his hand, the dark-haired man leaning it against his shoulder as he marched alongside his older friend, Barque simply making sure his wrists were loose and knuckles were cracked. Although they could both handle any Geezards or Bite Bugs they stumbled across on the Alcauld Plains, it was better to be safer then sure.
Besides, Martha would tan their hides if the either of them would come home hurt.
"You know, Bar, its amazing how you managed stay hooked into our little town." Patrick said as they walked down the road, careful to avoid any cars that came barreling part."Man such as yourself, globe-trotting and such, Balamb doesn't seem the kind to stay in one place for very long."
"Well, our extra-curricular activities help with that..." Barque said with a smirk, to which Patrick replied with a hefty grin.
"Yes sir, it does surely help the old coin purse as well!" Patrick said with a grin, shouldering his backpack a little as they walked. "And let me tell you, this latest job...by Hyne himself, I've never had a more cushy job my entire life."
"I reckon this stuff, the work we're doing now, is historical, Pat." Barque said seriously. "The people we work with, they're going to change the world. Imagine it – no more men dying needlessly in pointlessly. Our children will know how to defend themselves against all the chaos that litters the world, and at the end of it all...hopefully peace."
"Pft, another little prediction? You're not even drunk yet, Bar!" Patrick said with a guffaw, poking at him with the barrel of his rifle. "Ooo, tomorrow's weather will be mild but with a chance of rain!"
Barque batted the rifle away from him, scowling at his friend. "Hmph. Laugh all you want then. Just remember who got you this job when they write your name down in the history books."
"The Dincht name is already in the history books, my friend. My Pa did that for me." Patrick said with a nod. "Now all I gotta do is make sure my Martha is well looked after, and that we can..."
His voice trailed off before he could finish his sentence, and Barque turned his head to look at Patrick proper. "...Bad news huh?"
Patrick nodded, his head bowed as they walked. "...The doc visited the other day while you was away...he, erm...he says that Ma cant have any children."
Barque blinked at the news, his grey-blue eyes wide. "...What, ever?"
The rifleman simply nodded, and the two men walked onwards in silence. The fist-fighter lifted his hand to stroke his beard, his brow furrowed as if thinking of a solution to the problem. The dark-haired rifleman cleared his throat and spat onto the side of the road, shouldering his rifle once more. "...No need to fret, my friend. We got each other, that's all I care about. After that, well...we'll manage, I suppose."
"...Not necessarily." Barque said as they came over a small crest to reveal the massive Centran ruins jutting out of the plains at the foot of the mountains. The old building was gigantic, several warehouses wide and the same deep, and over five stories tall. The monolithic structure had been on the island for as long as people could remember – the only problem was, nobody could remember how to work it.
However, two people had a dream...and they intended to make it work. One way or another.
"Ho Cid!" Barque called as they neared the structure, the whir of machinery and shouts of engineers and builders in their FH dialect wafting over the open Balamb breeze.
Standing on the outskirts of the construction were two people – one was a woman with long flowing black hair, her body clad in a plain grey dress which went all the way down to her feet, a grey knitted shawl wrapped around her torso – but this couldn't keep her beauty in check, her breathtaking body still illustrated by the close-hugging cloth of her dress. Many of the FH builders were being moved to distraction with her present, running into walls and dropping equipment as they passed her. The woman seemed to either ignore or not notice these actions when they occurred.
The man who stood next to her, almost half a foot shorter then her, was an older man in his forties, dressed in a pair of grey slacks and wearing a plaid vest. He had neatly cropped brown hair and a pair of spectacles adorning his face, and if it wasn't for the very interesting weapon strapped to his side, he wouldn't look out of place at the Deling University. He turned and smiled a beaming smile, approaching the two men to shake their hands vigorously. "Ah, Mister Barque, Mister Dincht, thank you so much for joining us for this!"
"Patrick Dincht, Cid Kramer." Barque introduced. "The little bugger is going to change the world, aren't you Cid?"
"Eheh...not just me, sir, my wife is just as much to blame as me...come Edea, come say hello..." Cid said curtly, beckoning the younger woman forward, who approached the two men and curtsied slightly, evidently shy.
"Hello there..."
"Madam..." Barque said with a small smile, grasping her small hand and kissing the back of it gently, causing the woman to blush softly, taking her hand back to wonder just how he'd managed to snare it. Patrick only nodded his hellos to the woman, who seemed fine with that, and turned to Cid.
"Mister Kramer, we're to understand that you will be needing additional assistance for an expedition back to Centra, which has become a troubling problem for you." Patrick said professionally. "As my colleague has probably told you, I've had a lot of experience in 'problem solving'."
"Yes, Barque has told us a lot about you during his travels with us." Cid remarked. "You're the son of the legendary soldier, correct?"
"Yes Sir, he taught me all he knew."
"Excellent! You'll be the perfect bodyguard for me whilst I overlook the construction of the Garden!"
Barque blinked, confused. "Er, Cid, I thought you were both going back to Centra."
"Oh no, Barque, I need to stay here and liaise with the builders for our benefactor. He's a touch eccentric, you see, and not one for..."
"..For new company, yeah I remember the last time you told me." Barque said, hands on hips in frustration. "Well, that's a job for old Pa here, but what about me?"
"Well, I'll need you to escort Edea back to the orphanage on Centra for me." Cid said with a curt nod. "She requested you herself. You really proved yourself on the ship back when we first met you!"
"Yeah, well..." Barque said, shrugging his shoulders dismissively before turning to Edea. "...Are you sure about this?"
Edea nodded slightly. "I'm sure I'll be quite safe with you, Mister Barque." She said with a small smile, to which Barque returned his own.
"Well, I guess we'll set off now then...you've got all your stuff together?" He asked her, to which she nodded to the small pack beside her, before Cid took her aside to say his goodbyes. Barque turned to Patrick and clapped his hand onto his shoulder. "Well, my friend, I guess I get the short end of the stick this time."
"What are you talking about?" Patrick muttered, holding a hand up so the other couple wouldn't hear. "Stuck traveling with a hot babe like that? Just make sure you keep yer hands to yerself, got it?" He said, poking Barque in the ribs with his finger.
"Hmph, well...i don't think that's going to be a problem..." Barque muttered as he watched Cid and Edea kiss briefly, a small peck on the cheek for Cid, before the tall, shapely woman grabbed her pack and shouldered it, approaching Barque and Patrick.
"Mister Dincht, it was a pleasure to meet you. Mister Barque, we need to catch a train to Deling. From there it is a two day trip to Winhill, followed by a charter to the Cape of Good Hope."
"Indeed it is." The older man said with a nod, nodding his goodbye to Patrick before beckoning for Edea to follow him with the jerk of his head.
The woman blinked, a little flustered, and with a quick curtsy to Patrick and a wave to Cid, broke into a little trot in order to catch up to the short fist-fighter.
Patrick walked up to stand beside Cid, who smiled up to him. "You sure you only want me to be with you? Shouldn't I go with them?" He asked the stately older man, who laughed a little heartily.
"My new friend, I'll let you in on a little secret – I believe Barque to be one of the strongest men I have ever met. And if push ever came to shove, he has Edea by his side. She will keep him safe, let me assure you."
"Mmm..." Patrick murmured in agreement, looking over his shoulder to the couple disappearing into the horizon, a look of concern etched onto his face...
Hey there folks. Time for another quarterly release! Again, I apologise for taking so long to release these chapter. Please be rest assured, I'm trying to make them as enjoyable a read for you as I can. Wish me luck on the next one!