Those who we remember most
A Final Fantasy VIII Fanfiction
By Fateweaver
Chapter One
"Hail, the Conquering Heroes," a Bittersweet reunion
It wasn't an often occasion, Edea stalking the student dormitories of Balamb Garden. The last time she had been through was to talk some sense into Seifer and all of Balamb knew how well that went. In the end, she had left in a calm fury and did not return from her chambers for several hours—when she did, she refused to say anything of the event except for 'he's a disturbed child, misunderstood perhaps, but disturbed deeply'.
Today was a different affair however. When she had boldly stepped into Seifer's room with authority and confidence, she had been in her own element. But this—telling one of her children that their beloved had returned after so much pain had already passed, was something else entirely.
In her black dress gown, Edea stood in front of the door to Rinoa's apartment, her hand frozen just a few inches from the door. Her heart fluttered for a moment and she nearly turned on her heels, but she had taught herself better than that—expected more of herself than that. Reluctantly, she rapped her knuckles on the door and folded her hands in front of her.
A few moments passed to no reply and she frowned slightly. "Child," she spoke as she knocked on the door again, "Rinoa—where are you? Answer me, dearest, I'm not here on business." Still, despite her manners and motherly concern, no reply came. Concerned now, with the rumors of Rinoa's heavy drinking burdening her judgment, the Lady of Balamb calmly breathed in and out, exhaling her nervousness. She knew her children, Rinoa was not apt to throw herself to the dogs without a fight—but without Squall, she had become weaker in mind and spirit. Without a moment's hesitation, her hand waved over the door's lock as she forced a magical spell into it's circuitry.
There is no turning back; either I go in or risk her demise and smell my defeat on the westerly winds tomorrow. Voice calm and stern, she apologized as she opened the door, "Excuse my intrusion, Rinoa, I'm coming in." As the door slid open, she swooned slightly as a wave of intoxicating fumes blasted into her nostrils. Sputtering, she gripped the doorframe as she coughed out the vile smell of alcohol; rum, if memory served her. Eyes teared, she banished the repugnant stench to the corners of the room with a hand gesture and strode into the dark apartment, still covering her mouth. The booming fireworks outside combined with the music playing on the speakers outside vibrated the floor and shook the windows gently, muffled by the metal and ceramic walls. Her eyes scanned the room again, this time in more detail than the last, but found no trace of Rinoa.
"Rinoa," she called out as she moved into the bedroom, "are you here?" The covers of the queen-sized bed were rumpled and a bottle of wine glistened on the nightstand, next to it a framed picture she couldn't make out the contents of in the dark. Squall's sword glinted lightly next to the cut-out in the wall that served as a doorway between the main room and the bedroom, dusty and the home of more than one house-spider.
Calmly, she strode over to the picture and summoned an orb of light in her right hand. With her left, she gently plucked it from the nightstand and frowned in concern. It was a portrait taken in the Hangar when Squall had just returned from the clean-up mission in Juunhou—the last mission before they had disappeared with the Ragnarok—and showed an ecstatic and worried Rinoa grasping a dusty, bruised, and cut Squall tightly against her chest. As always, he lightly returned the embrace, still as unsure of his actions as always. Freeing the orb to drift lazily about the room, she ran her finger across the pane and felt the grit of dust thick on her fingers. "Five years is a long time to wait," she remarked as she placed the portrait down on the nightstand, "even for lovers such as they."
Turning towards the entrance, she strode over to the bathroom and knocked lightly. "My dear, do not be afraid; I am not here to scold you, but I am worried about you," she remarked as she rolled the bathroom door aside with her magic. Again, no Rinoa, just another empty space; another hollow shell inhabited by a hollow person. "You must feel lonely, Rinoa," she remarked as she closed the door, "lonely, and perhaps a bit afraid. I hope you will forgive me." With that, she closed her eyes, sought her out, and found her. Making sure to close and lock the door, Edea vanished into thin air and appeared in the thick of a heated argument.
Eyes open wide in surprise, she had only a moment to duck Rinoa's last bottle of wine before it smashed against the wall spectacularly. Dodging the shards of the exploding bottle behind her she said, "I am sorry to intrude Rinoa--"
"Get out," Rinoa yelled back, pointing a quivering finger at the Matron, her eyes and nose bled with mucous, "get out!!"
"But Rinoa—!"
"I've heard enough from you," she slurred heavily, "from you," she pointed at Selphie, who was against the wall trying her best not to explode in anxiety, "and from whoever the hell else is going to tell me 'it's all right'. Well it's not alright, alright?! He's gone damn it all, and I know he's not coming back! He's never coming home and I don't need your damned sympathy!!"
"Rinoa," Edea began again, stepping down from the bed she had happened to teleport onto, "you must hear me out, child."
Lips quivering and hands white to the knuckle, she belted, "And I am not your fucking child!!"
Selphie's eyes squinted shut as she turned her head away, wanting it all to end now before someone got hurt. The Matron stood silent, dead in her tracks, as her eyes stared deep into Rinoa's wild eyes. "Child," she stated in a low, harsh voice, "this is not the time."
"Fuck you, you cold-hearted, orphanage-running bastard! I'm not taking your orders! I'm not going to take anyone's orders! I'm quitting SEED as of now, this night! I don't care who you think you are but I got something to say, damnit, and I'm going to say it to the whole fucking Garden before I'm done. And not you, or Selphie, or even the Headmaster is going to stop me! You hear me, you bitch?! They're dead, alright? Dead! Dead like my—my child, dead!"
With a cool, controlled gesture, the Matron's hand flew forward, her eyes cool and distant. "Hush, child!" Rinoa's mouth opened and she tried to scream but no sound came out. Gripping her throat, she stared, shocked at the Matron, her face slowly turning red as her eyes narrowed furiously.
"Any more violence out of you and I will be forced to restrain you," Edea whispered commandingly, "and neither I nor you want me to do that. Now you will hear me out or I will escort you to your quarters and tell you tomorrow, and I am not a bitch."
Stomping forward, Rinoa screamed silent obscenities, her finger firmly pointed squarely at Edea's chest, her eyes burning and her breath heated.
"And he is not dead," she stated, "he's landing right now, in the Hangar, with the others."
Stopped dead in her tracks, Rinoa's expression faltered, her mouth hanging open and a tear in her eye. Years of doubt and regret, the walls she had built around her to keep the loneliness from seeping in, her hurtful admission that Squall would never return, it all fell to pieces. The world seemed to fall apart for a moment and become something from another world she had never foreseen. Mouth quivering, unable to do anything else, she stared, both frightened and hopeful.
"We found them less than five minutes ago, they appeared on the horizon without warning—we don't know why they hadn't called in before but the Ragnarok is damaged horrendously and they're already assembling a docking crew," extending her hand, she produced a checklist from her dress sleeve and stated, "I told them that you would like to be there to assess the damages—they agreed and are waiting your arrival, Squall included."
Eyes on the clipboard, Rinoa stepped forward and took it with a quivering arm, her eyes nervous and cautious. "This is no trick," Edea stated as she let her arm fall, "and I would advise you to hurry if you want to get him before the on-site medical technicians do. Hurry now, and remember that even if you do hate me so, child, I shall always love you, all of you." And with that, she vanished, restoring Rinoa's voice in passing.
Staring at the clipboard, Rinoa shook slightly, tears flooding her vision and burning her eyes.
"Rinoa?"
Charging out of the room without a word, she flew to the Hangar where in just a few minutes, the Ragnarok would finally have arrived after five long years of waiting.
Quistis rapped her fingers against the console as the Ragnarok began to land. Glancing over at a refreshingly happy Squall, and an equally relieved Irvine, she felt a bit out of place. Then again, they weren't the ones who would tell Selphie. Sitting back in her chair, she let her head fall to the right so she could make eye contact with Squall.
"Squall," she began as she folded her arms, "when we land, I want to be the first off the ship."
"Huh? Why?"
"It's Selphie," the voice wavered the tiniest bit and it took her a mighty bit of effort to keep it from throwing off her otherwise cool demeanor, "she needs to know."
With a solemn nod, he returned to watching over the inbound procedures.
Quistis returned to her own mind, trying to think of the easiest way to break such terrible news. Of the ones that came to mind, she found herself guessing that there wouldn't be any method any easier than simply asking Selphie to her room for the night and telling her there. Besides, she added with a bit of selfish guilt, it had been a very long time since they had been able to see each other.
Her thoughts roiled over to Squall, whose cool and determined demeanor had been squashed in their years in the Outlands. In that tropical desert, struggling to survive, they had changed a lot. Irvine, though somehow still able to keep a grip on his cowboyish mask, had darkened considerably. Where before he had been a charismatic, exuberant, sometimes too pushy, 'cowboy', he reminded her of a wounded falcon: still as charismatic and just as exuberant but never able to recover its pride, no matter how steeled his eyes were. She could feel the regret in him.
Where Irvine had become a hollow, dark version of his former self, Squall had blossomed into something else entirely. Repentant, determined, and focused would be what she would call him. His teenager attitude had dissipated and she could feel him aged considerably at heart. Though she agreed with the fact that he needed to grow up a little, she could feel in him the burdens of sin and regret and see in his eyes that sage-like, removed wisdom that came with old age. Squall was not who he used to be at all; the only thing that had stayed the same was his determination, maybe even stubborn pride.
Quistis herself had felt the wear of the sands on herself as well. She once had told them of the great parties they would hold when they returned to Balamb and looked forward to the students who she had left behind. Now, she felt emptiness in the pit of her stomach, a cold and heard iron ball that seemed to yearn for some kind of love other than her own. In the desert sands, she had approached Squall frankly about her former obsession with him and, though shocked, he had taken it in stride; deciding that it changed nothing and only helped him understand some of the things she had done for him. This, however, continued to eat at her heart, the fact that he could never be hers. She persisted that she would eventually lose her feelings for Squall and perhaps become enamored by another young boy ripe and fresh with attitude and spunk but so far this had never changed. The more she tried to distance herself from him, the closer they seemed to bond.
A stern but gentle hand lay on her shoulder all of a sudden and she looked up to see Squall smiling. Forcing one back, she asked, "We're down already?"
"I was hoping that my former ass-whipper would help me down the stairs," he said with a wry smirk and a wince in one eye, "it's bothering me again today."
"You get that checked, Squall," Quistis said, adjusting her glasses with a frown, "it could be serious."
"No," he stated firmly and removed his hand from her shoulder, "I'm fine."
Quistis frowned. Stubborn as always, I see, Squall.
Getting up from her seat, she brushed away the bangs covering her eyes and sighed. "Well, it's better than walking down with the womanizer."
Irvine stood up in mock outrage, "I am not a womanizer," he said, winking as he said so, "some girls just don't see my charm out right. You'll learn though."
Sighing with a bit of a giggle, Quistis placed her hand on her hip and said, "No way. Squall is my kind of man, you know. Maybe you should be more like him?"
Groaning, Squall covered his face with his gloved hands.
"What, like Mr. Gloom and Doom? Tch. Not in my life!"
"Hey!"
"What? I call 'em like I see 'em."
With a roll of his eyes, Squall began to walk to the bridge, "Well, if anyone wants off this boat, the ramp is this way."
Grasping the clipboard, emotions and thoughts boiled in Rinoa's mind. She wasn't sure what she was doing there. She hated him for having been gone so long, for causing the death of her child, for leaving her when she needed him the most, but she couldn't get over her love. As the bay doors began to slide open, she tried to figure it out, what she felt, but it all was a mess.
Glancing down at the checklist, she bit her lip. She wanted to toss the clipboard to the side, run to the ship, and hug him, and maybe slap him, but she didn't want to be onboard the ship if he was hurt. Gritting her teeth, she growled in her mind that maybe he did need to be hurt. After all, he had killed her child, left her here to rot for five years, and didn't so much as call to say they were all right, but stranded.
But from the looks of the battered and blackened hull, by the looks of it some form of energy weaponry, and the patchwork repairs on the hull, they probably had their communications system knocked out. But Irvine knew how to use that kind of stuff, why didn't he fix it?
Feeling her anger rise and boil deep in herself, she reminded herself that there were students nearby. She was a role-model, one of the many icons of what a SEED could become. Failing them now would be far more disappointing than being unable to slap Squall straight off the ship. Besides, she had all night to work on him.
She wanted desperately to forgive him as she thought these cruel thoughts, but nothing but frustrated anger would come out. Balling her hands into fists, she growled at her inner turmoil, wanting to know his reason now so that she would be able to stop it herself.
Slowly, she strode forward as the landing gear cushioned the weight of the ship and its engines began to shut down. A few moments later, she was next to the airlock, tapping her foot impatiently. The feelings of anger and betrayal and hope and regret swarmed her, rolled around in her head, and slowly frustration took hold of her.
As the door slid open and she raised back her palm, her anger faded and her eyes widened. Squall, head straight and scarred in numerous places, had grown a beard in his absence and was currently clutching his side, wincing slightly in pain. As he saw her, she saw a spark of nervousness in his eyes and noticed Quistis urging him forward. Biting his lip, he took two bold steps up to her and looked her in the eyes.
She felt it surge again, the anger and the betrayal as her tears welled up in fear. She knew it was impossible to stop now, she felt part of herself screaming against doing it, but her palm swished out, slapped him across the face with a thunderous clap, and she broke into tears as he kept his head there, deciding just to lower it.
He had no explanation, no excuse. He knew what he had done to her somehow, even before she had even started to explain the horrors she had had to endure. His broken face, crushed eyes, ripped into her and clawed out her heart. Her hand shook as she stood there in tears, unable to do anything but feel an overwhelming sadness and regret wash over her, as all in the bay watched in horror and fear. She wanted him to say something arrogant, something stupid that would give her some sort of way to justify what she had done, but he had nothing to say. Her heart collapsed inwards on itself as she stood there, sniffing up the mucous that threatened to spill all over her. She wanted to curse at him, scream at him, beat him up for being so foolish, but without any movement at all, she felt in him that he would offer no resistance. He was broken already before she had even gotten there, wanted her to hurt him before she had even gotten the urge. In his downcast eyes she saw sadness, regret, and repentance, and a feeling of unworthiness so deep she could feel it scrape against the innermost chamber of her mind.
Slowly, she took a timid step forward, unsure of herself. Her knees buckled as she tried to keep herself upright and her teeth crushed each other as she fell into his arms, apologizing while bawling uncontrollably. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her, nestling his cheek against her shoulder. He said nothing as they stood there, entwined and both hurt and betrayed by their emotions. Said nothing as she lightly beat on him, trying to be mad, trying her best to express everything she hated about him. She had prepared a speech for him, a long list of things that he could never make up for, and he listened to her as she tried to bawl it out. She wanted him to say something, anything, that would let her be able to release all this hatred she had kept bottled inside, but he had nothing but regret and love, and so they continued to stand there until her tears ran dry and her body shook with her light sobs. Lightly, he brushed her hair away, stared into her hollow eyes and said, as plainly as he could manage, "If you want me to go and never return, just say it. If you feel I deserve it—say it."
Her mouth opened and she tried to say it but it wouldn't come out. She wanted to tell him that he deserved less pity for what he had done, that he should burn in hell, but it wouldn't come. He had placed his very heart and soul in her hands, giving it to her without conditions or rules or lies. She felt naked and uncertain, unable to choose between the two. With such honest love, she had nothing left that could spark any hate in her at all. Punching him lightly in the gut, she pointed a finger at him and said, dead-serious, "Don't you –ever- do that to me again, Squall. Ever."
"I won't," he promised as she collapsed into his chest. Sobbing a bit ever so often, she held on to him as the people in the bay slowly began to work on their respective jobs once more. She felt a bit sad that she had failed in restraining herself in front of the cadets, but the unbridled feeling of love and relief bursting out of her more than eased her concerns of it. After a few minutes, he entwined his fingers in hers and, cupping her chin, he asked her if they could go back home.
Nodding, she led him out of the Hangar despite Quistis' protests, through the central corridor, and straight back to her apartment, dodging all of the gasping students inbetween who hadn't heard of the return of the missing SEED. As she unlocked the door she remembered the wine she had been drinking earlier and blushed slightly. "Squall," she stated hoarsely, her throat dry and parched from all the sobbing earlier, "we need to talk about something. About a lot of something."
As she opened the door and he went to the bedroom to disrobe, he blinked and looked around. "Rinoa," he asked with a quivering voice, "where's the kid?"
Gulping down her fear, she closed the door behind them and locked it, deciding to start recounting her history since the day he had left.