12
CHAPTER 12 – THE GARDEN FESTIVAL
The sun had fallen to just over the outer wall's edge by the time clean-up was finished. Squall and his comrades had toiled for hours on end, gathering every last fallen soldier, civilian, and firearm littered across the solar array. Manually hauling out the casualties had been a grueling task; the staircases were the only way up and out of the massive basin. By the time he and his entourage had cleared the central platform, he'd elected to split off from them. He soon came to regret the decision; with each SeeD he lent his help to came another round of congratulations for his speech. The constant out-pour of praise irritated him to no end, leading him to reflect on Xu's mention of his reputation going forward.
All the while, he struggled to fathom what had come over him. Perhaps spending so much time with Rinoa had begun to foster a similar lack of restraint in him. Whatever the cause, such brashness was inexcusable in the field. He'd let his tongue step out of line with his better judgment, a mistake that could have easily cost them their license to stay. That the mayor and his wife had yet to re-emerge from their house was his only assurance otherwise, and far from a guarantee.
He finally surmounted the solar array's lip, and peered out over the makeshift streets below. The efforts of those assigned to the town proper were clear to see. SeeDs, cadets, and civilians cautiously maneuvered about, neither faction daring to encroach too far on the other. Though the railroad tracks they walked upon were still riddled with structural damage, the casualties had been swept away in the meantime. Squall assumed water burial to be Fisherman's Horizon's standard funerary procedure, though had no idea if there was a designated drop point for the bodies further along the bridge. Surely the townspeople would never stoop to disposing of their dead in the same waters that kept them sustained.
He started down the right hand path, turning his gaze to the Garden docked by the roadside. It cast a massive shadow over the town's eastern perimeter, its blue and silver shell stunning as he'd ever seen it in the coming twilight. A pair of large maintenance crane platforms were set up on either side. The nearest ascended to the port-side emergency exit hatch, carrying a small group of SeeDs up. Squall picked up the pace as he neared the bottom of the slope. Fatigued from the day's work, he longed only to devour his sparse evening ration, followed by an early retreat to his dorm.
"'Bout time one o' you guys showed up!"
He stopped in his tracks, and turned to face the call. A lone man stood in the shadow cast by the Garden, his back propped up against one of the central structure's support beams. The accent had been instantly recognizable. So too were the wavy brown locks. It was the attire which kept Squall from making a positive identification on the spot. He'd shed the Galbadian uniform for an unbuttoned plaid shirt, left hanging open atop his white undershirt. A pair of blue jeans trailed down to his black boots, apparently the only article he'd carried over from his military disguise. If not for the shotgun hanging from his bullet belt, he could have easily fit the bill for a local.
"Where did you get those?" Squall asked.
"Offa the best lookin' stiff I could find," Irvine replied. He removed his back from the beam, and started over to him. "Yer crazy if ya think I'm gonna go walkin' 'round here in that uniform. Sure took yer sweet time gettin' on down here."
"Maybe if someone had stayed to help with the clean-up," Squall shot back. "Is there something you want?"
"Jus' somebody to vouch fer my identity," the sharpshooter answered. He swiveled his eyes to the now descending crane platform. "I'm no student, and I'm sure as hell not passin' fer a civie with this hangin' offa me. So, what'dya say? Any chance ya can help me get a room?"
Squall sighed, but motioned for him to follow after. He'd been heading for the Garden, anyway. A brief detour up to the headmaster's office to get Irvine settled would be simple enough. The two silently traversed the oncoming pedestrian traffic; Squall's gunblade openly worn at his side was enough to prompt most to clear the way for them. They reached the crane just as the railed platform touched down, and stepped aboard after the three operatives who'd been in waiting.
"What happened out there?" Squall finally broke the silence. "I was sure you three had been caught."
"Well, the short version is we were," Irvine explained. He paid little heed to the stares from the other SeeDs. "An' we jus' barely got outta it by the skin o' our teeth."
"And the long version?" Squall egged him on as the crane's hydraulics kicked in.
"We showed up jus' after they fired on Trabia, an' you'd better believe that set Selphie off. We infiltrated the base, cut the power, an' then kinda split up to see what else we could do to slow 'em down."
"What do you mean, you split up?"
"I mean we went our separate ways. Selphie figured we'd catch a lot more attention if we'd kept walkin' 'round joined at the hip. I wasn't too keen on it myself, but… well, with how fired up she was, I wasn't gonna waste my time arguin'."
Squall's heart sunk. He'd explicitly told Zell to keep an eye on her at all times. To now learn that his wishes had gone ignored did nothing to ease his suspicion of her being a Galbadian agent. He sincerely hoped his fears were unfounded. That Irvine and Zell were still alive seemed to suggest as much. And yet, the existence of the counterfeit GF was something he couldn't hand-wave away.
"It was Zell who got our cover blown," Irvine went on. "We sprung him free, but they fired the missiles. Selphie went berserk, an' brought the whole place crumbling down on us. We made it up topside, an' that's 'bout where she went catatonic…"
"I can't," she sobbed in a broken voice. "I just… I don't know what to do anymore! It's over… everything's over. Dad… I really… really wanted to see you again… but it was all for nothing… I'm-"
Irvine held fast to Selphie's shoulder, as did Zell to her wrist. Both their hands were shaken free by the monstrous blast that followed. The ground beneath his feet shook, forcing him to redirect his hand to the ground to keep himself standing. He raised his head up, and craned his neck back. Flames billowed from an ignited fuel tank across the compound; even his visor's infrared shielding could barely stand up to their intensity. The blaze quickly spread, consuming all in its vicinity. Time slowed to a crawl. The adrenaline fired through his veins. Any possibility of escape slipped further out of reach with each passing second.
His eyes darted every which way in the span of two seconds. The transport they'd taken in was utterly demolished; its smoldering remains lay by the obliterated chain-link fence where they'd parked. The burnt out husks of a dozen or so iron-clad tank mechs sat all around it. As he scanned further along, he noticed a pair parked just inside the compound entryway which appeared still functional. Tunnel vision instantly set in. The next earth-shattering tremor from behind was as a starting gun to his ears.
He swept the distraught Selphie up into his arms without a second thought, and blazed a trail across the divide. The severed halves of her nunchaku fell from her hands as he did so. The ensuing racket of explosions and crumbling architecture continued unabated as he ran. He dared not look back even to see if Zell were following; only as he circled the rear of the tank to the entry hatch did he notice the blonde head of hair just behind. He threw open the latch with one hand, ducked inside, and set Selphie down in the nearest seat.
"Get 'er buckled up!" he shouted to Zell as he raced forward into the cockpit.
Though Irvine had never operated anything of the sort, his lectures at Galbadia Garden had included a seminar on virtually every military vehicle in the army's reserve. He plopped himself into the driver's seat, buckled his own belt, and engaged the ignition with a button press. The tank's six turbine engines roared to life, barely discernible against the destruction outside.
"Hold on to somethin'!" he hollered back. He floored the accelerator.
The iron-clad lurched forward on command. He veered left towards the open gateway, the treads easily surmounting debris and corpses alike. Bulky as it was, he couldn't reasonably expect it to move any faster. The ongoing explosions intensified. Flames billowed from all sides through the narrow front view-port. The entrance drew closer, cleared for them courtesy of Zell's Guardian Force. All that mattered now was their ever shrinking window of opportunity to reach it.
C'mon, move!
The tank's nose had barely cleared the archway when the largest eruption of all sounded. Instantly, Irvine's demand for speed was rewarded tenfold. He recalled their daring escape from the D-District Prison earlier that morning, when they'd shot forth from the hangar bay with the explosions of two RPGs licking at their rear tires. This was of another magnitude entirely.
His hands were ripped from the steering controls as the iron-clad was thrust forward onto the desert plains, and began to tumble. Only his seat belt kept him in place as he gripped tightly to the armrests. Extreme disorientation and nausea overtook him. Heaven and earth switched positions roughly a dozen times. Steel sickeningly screeched and crunched all the while, rendering the cries of panic behind him unintelligible.
After a long and torturous eternity, the ruined tank wobbled to a rest upside down. His head dazed and spinning, Irvine fumbled all about for the button to release his belt. He found it, only to be dropped headfirst onto the transport's roof as it came free; the brunt of the impact was taken by his helmet. He quickly righted himself, scanned his eyes over the cockpit, and found his shotgun resting several feet away from him. After re-holstering it, he turned his attention to his comrades.
Both hung upside down from their seats at the rear. He reached up to assist Zell first; with no helmet, there would be nothing to spare him from a serious head injury should he fall. A torrent of vomit suddenly came spewing out of his gullet, splattering all over Irvine's boots before he could step back.
"S-sorry," he groaned as the last of the bile trickled from his lips.
Irvine said nothing; that they'd survived at all was too miraculous for him to be hung up on such a thing. Once Zell was safely on the ground, taking great pains to keep from touching down on the puddle, they proceeded over to Selphie. She spoke not a word as they helped her down. She appeared neither on the verge of throwing up, nor any more responsive than before. She absentmindedly swiveled her visor back and forth between them, and then to her own feet below. Irvine opened his mouth to console her, but stopped. There were no words.
She'd been helpless to avert the destruction of both her former and current homes, and likely the deaths of many she held dear. Where Balamb Garden was concerned, their only hope was that they'd managed to buy Squall's team enough time. The situation was now completely out of their hands. All they could do now was find some manner of passage back to civilization. With aching body and heavy heart, Irvine maneuvered himself to the rear hatch, threw it open, and stepped out onto the wreckage-strewn, smog-covered sands.
"After that, we jus' started walkin'," Irvine continued as they boarded. "Didn't have a clue where we were headin', though. The smog was so dense, ya couldn't see the stars to figure out where north was. We got picked up the next day by the platoon headin' fer this place. I gave my old helmet to Zell – figured no one'd be lookin' fer my face – an' we passed ourselves off as a few survivors. An' here I thought they'd have the decency to ship us back to Deling City after what we'd jus' been through."
"No such luck, huh?" Squall presumed.
"Nope. They had their orders, an' it wasn't like we were missin' limbs or anythin'. So, we made our way down an' 'round the coast to Timber, dropped off a buncha troops there, an' started over the bridge. Us three stuck together through it all. Me an' Zell started tryin' to come up with some ideas of how to give 'em the slip. An' Selphie… well, she jus' kept to herself the whole time. Wouldn't say a word to anyone. Before, back in front o' the mayor's house… that was the first time I've seen her actin' like her usual self in the last two weeks."
Squall pondered over his account as they crossed the walkway to the central pillar, and stepped aboard the elevator. For Selphie to have shown genuine remorse was an encouraging sign. Indeed, there could have been a multitude of explanations for how she'd gotten her GF sphere. That it bore the Galbadian insignia as opposed to SeeD's was his only lead. There was no way to know for sure other than confronting her directly. More than anything else however, it was the sphere's existence itself which truly perturbed him. Assuming it had come from the army, the question was then raised as to why there had never been reports of Galbadia supplying its own soldiers with the technology.
He brushed the matter aside as they reached the 20th floor. They stepped out into the central antechamber, and proceeded ahead into the main hall. A congregation of technicians stood atop the control center with a pair of SeeDs, toiling over the machinery. Squall paid them no mind as he cut across the red carpet to the headmaster's office. He rapped on the door twice. It swung open moments later. To his surprise, it was not Cid standing on the other side.
"Excellent timing as usual," Xu muttered. "We were just about to make a call over the intercom for you."
Perfect… what did I do, now?
"I'm only here to help get him settled," Squall gestured to Irvine. "He's going to need a room. Is the headmaster in?"
On cue, Cid rounded the corner to peer over the commandant's shoulder.
"Irvine!"
The headmaster immediately motioned with one hand for Xu to clear the doorframe. She obliged, allowing him to pass on by and take the sharpshooter's hand in his own.
"It's good to see you well after so long, sir," Irvine greeted him as they shook. "And… well, my condolences about everything. I know the situation must be harder on you than anyone else."
His enunciation had abruptly become tighter, and more formal again. His implied familiarity with Cid was what truly caught Squall off guard, however. It occurred to him once again that Selphie was not the only enigma within his circle.
"Thank you," Cid graciously accepted. "But I'm fine, really. More importantly, how did you make your way out here?"
"It's a long story. For the moment, I'd be very appreciative if you could arrange a place for me in the dorms."
"Of course. But before that… could you please wait out here for just a few moments? There's something Xu and I would like to discuss with Squall in private."
A lump caught in Squall's throat; a private meeting with the headmaster and commandant alone could only mean trouble. Was it in some way related to his stand-off with the mayor? Surely it had to be to have come so quickly afterward. He obligingly stepped into the office, restlessly speculating as to what kind of punishment he was due for. Xu closed the door behind him as Cid returned to his mahogany desk by the window.
"Please, have a seat," the headmaster gestured to the chair in front.
Squall obeyed the formality as though it were a direct order. He sunk into the plush cushioning, just as his heart into his stomach.
"There's no need to be anxious," Cid assured him as Xu circled around to stand by the desk. "You haven't done anything wrong. Quite the contrary, in fact. I dare say yours is a case without precedent."
"I don't understand, sir," Squall eked out. The heavy weight refused to lift from his shoulders.
"Of course not. Xu, perhaps you'd like to be the one to explain for him?"
Squall turned his eyes to the commandant. Her face briefly showed a look of surprise at having been placed on the spot. Like a mirage, it vanished a split second later.
"As you might be aware, this is my third and final year acting as commandant," she began. "And that it's customary for each outgoing recipient of the title to name a successor in advance, to offer them training and guidance for when it comes time to pass the torch."
"You can't be serious."
Squall's eyes bulged, his mind utterly dumbfounded. He was so beside himself at the notion, that it took him a moment to realize he'd unwittingly spoken his thoughts aloud. Surely this had to be an elaborate joke.
"Indeed, it would make you the youngest of the five operatives to ever hold the title by two years," Headmaster Cid interjected. "But as I said, yours is a very unique case, Squall. You have accomplished more in a single month than many operatives could expect to across their entire careers."
He remained completely mute. He was too baffled to even attempt an argument.
"Traditionally, the three key components to look for in a successor are bravery, wit, and the ability to inspire confidence in one's subordinates," Xu continued. "You proved your bravery the day you returned to save us from the missiles. From what Quistis told me about your confrontation with Norg, it seems you've got plenty of wit. And now today, after that speech… well, I already told you what I thought, and I stand by it. Despite your relative inexperience, you've shown yourself to be the most promising candidate I could hope for."
"T-there has to be someone else," he finally spoke up. He rose up out of his chair on pure instinct. "Someone with that experience under their belt already. What about Quistis? She'd be a perfect fit for the position."
"I thought so, too," Xu conceded. "That's why I signed on to oversee the squad accompanying yours for the Dollet field exam. That was her chance to prove she had the leadership qualities I was looking for, but… well, you know what happened there. Even with Norg and his administration gone, there's no way I can offer this position to her when she's just coming off a demotion. It could be too easily construed as playing favorites."
Squall was gobsmacked. He'd assumed Xu had been there that morning to evaluate his instructor, but never could have imagined just how important it might have been for her advancement. A pang of guilt shot through him; only now did he truly understand what he'd been complicit with in following Seifer's desertion.
"I wasn't keen on you after what happened that day. But you've proven your mettle, and shown yourself to be capable of commanding this army's respect. And so, after discussing it with the headmaster, I've decided to officially name you my successor."
"With all due respect… I can't," Squall stammered. His head was on the verge of rupturing. "I'm not ready for this level of responsibility."
"Of course, you aren't," Cid inserted himself into the conversation again. "Not yet, anyway. No one's expecting you to be an experienced leader right out of the gate. That's why it's customary for each commandant to choose their successor a year in advance, to allow for sufficient training. It was no different for Xu, when she was named by her predecessor. Regardless, it will have to wait until we've tied up our current business with Fisherman's Horizon. Take your time to think it over. I'm expecting great things from you, Squall. You're dismissed."
I can't believe this…
Squall stood in place for several moments, stunned beyond all measure. It was all too much to process in his already exhausted state of mind. He performed the SeeD salute to them both, and spun on his heel. He swung open the door to find Irvine standing just on the other side. The sharpshooter's initial surprise melted away into a slick grin as their eyes met. He brought his hand around to give him a hearty slap on the shoulder.
"Congrats, chief!"
Squall kept to himself for the next several days. What little time not spent in his room consisted solely of eating in the cafeteria, and practicing his form in the training center. His instruction of Rinoa had drawn to an abrupt halt. Neither had she come to him at any point to insist he continue. He could safely assume Irvine had passed along the news of his promotion to her and the rest of his comrades, and that she'd figured he was too busy. The misunderstanding suited him just fine; he was in no mood to associate with anyone.
Whenever he would leave his dorm to make his way about the Garden, his eyes remained perpetually locked to the floor. In the cafeteria, he took great pains to find the table furthest removed from other students. Should another group happen upon him while training, he was quick to vacate the immediate area. Above all else, he dared not venture back ashore. By the 4th day, he'd ceased his daily round of the academy altogether, and resigned himself to his room for a full 24 hours. No matter his stomach's incessant hunger pangs, the will to raise himself from his bed remained out of reach.
All the while, he reflected on the events that had brought him to this turning point. He felt no satisfaction in having achieved such a massive milestone, just as on the night of the graduation ball. It was unquestionably the single greatest accomplishment of his life. He ought to have been elated. Instead, it filled him with dread akin to a prison sentence. He'd only passed the field exam just over a month prior, inadvertently sullying his own instructor's chance for the position he now held. The guilt was unbearable. It should have been obvious to everyone that he was unqualified, no matter what the headmaster and commandant had said to contrary.
Resigning from SeeD altogether crossed his mind several times. It seemed the only way to rid himself of the burden of command, regardless of the cowardly light it would paint him in. He didn't care; his life spent in seclusion had left him with no image to maintain, nor expectations to live up to. What truly frightened him, just as it had when Seifer had first prodded him regarding his dream for the future, was where he would go next. His life at Balamb Garden was all he knew. There was no possibility he could leave it all behind for a normal life, least of all with the world on the verge of Edea's total conquest. He would eventually find himself pressed into battle with her forces again, whether or not he still bore the title of SeeD. His dilemma hung over him like a heavy pall, day and night.
On the evening of the 5th day, the second in which he'd not left his room, a knock on the door came. Deep in the throes of depression, and deprived of sustenance, he made no effort to reply. Several more knocks followed, before the door finally creaked open. Squall could scarcely recall if he'd remembered to lock it. He groggily turned over in bed to see who it was.
"Hey," Rinoa greeted him. The concern in her voice was evident. "You okay? Me and the rest of the gang haven't seen you around in days."
"What do you want?" he weakly groaned.
"You look so down," she said, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. "Squall, what's wrong? Tell me."
"It's…"
"Yeah, yeah, 'none of your business', right? Quistis was right on. You are an easy read. Come on, let's get you up and at it. We're going out for a night on the town."
"I'm not in the mood," he dismissed her.
"Let me guess," she sighed. "You're still hung up over the new promotion, right? Look, I understand, Squall. You've had a lot put on your shoulders all of a sudden. But just lying around in bed doing nothing isn't going to make you feel any better. You need to get out and unwind a little. Plus… there's something important I want to talk to you about. So, what do you say? I mean, come on, Squall, how old are you? You're still a teenager, right? Why don't you let yourself act like one for a change?"
Squall breathed a deep sigh. He realized she would never stop pestering him until he finally gave in. His stomach likewise begged him to accept.
"Fine," he surrendered. He achingly sat up, and swung his legs over the bedside. "I'll give it a shot."
"Yay!" Rinoa excitedly jumped up. "Then, let's get going."
He quickly laced his shoes, threw on his casual black jacket, and followed her out the door. They made their way through the dormitory halls at a leisurely pace; it was as fast as Squall could move in his current condition. Upon reaching the atrium, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. The massive nexus was completely empty, without a single cadet or SeeD across its entire expanse. Not believing his eyes, he quickly brought up his wristwatch. It read 20:14, just after curfew for the junior classmen, but nearly 3 hours ahead of the academy-wide lights-out.
"Where is everybody?" he pondered aloud.
"Probably out on the town," Rinoa answered obliviously. "Come on, let's move it."
Squall apprehensively followed her lead to the elevators and stepped aboard. A new queasiness unrelated to hunger formed in his stomach. Something was amiss. It was ludicrous to believe the entire student body had taken to the town all at once, especially when considering the tenuous relationship they held with Fisherman's Horizon. As they stepped off onto the second level and circled around to the front of the Garden, he realized the hall was likewise vacant. Only one familiar face casually leaned beside the emergency exit further along.
"So, she finally talked ya into it, huh?" Irvine chuckled as they approached.
"Into what?" Squall impatiently asked. "Where is everyone?"
"All in good time, buddy."
He relieved himself from the wall, and strode forward to meet them. He abruptly slid his arm around Squall's neck, and began walking him towards the door, away from Rinoa.
"Lookin' good together," he slyly whispered into his ear. "So like, I found this spot fer you two. Right near the stage. Check fer a ladder under the solar panels. I left a nudie mag there fer ya. Figured it might be good fer some… inspiration."
What the fuck?!
"Jus' take it easy tonight, an' enjoy the show," he finished with a pat on the back.
"What the hell are you talking about?!" Squall reeled away. "What do you mean, 'show'?"
Irvine wordlessly directed his finger out the hatch. A pair of arcing spotlights shooting out across the night sky caught Squall's attention. The twin beacons both appeared to be coming from the center of the solar array; they swiveled and danced across the sea of stars above. It was then that his ears picked up on the sound of a merry symphony carried on the wind.
"You're coming too, aren't you, Irvine?" Rinoa asked.
"Yeah, I'll be right behind. Jus' gotta work out my… 'battle plan', I guess ya could call it."
"Will one of you please tell me what's going on?!" Squall fumed.
"I'll fill you in on the way," Rinoa assured him. She stepped forward through the hatch and onto the raised crane platform. "Come on, let's go."
He momentarily considered turning around on the spot, and heading straight back to his dorm. Rinoa was obviously not being entirely forthcoming with him. And yet, the notion that the entire Garden populace had gathered together in the center of town was too maddening for him to ignore. He begrudgingly stepped aboard the lift after her. Satisfied, she waved to the technician manning the crane below. They began to descend the next moment.
"Rinoa," he firmly addressed her. "What's going on? Why is everyone up there?"
"Well, after Irvine told us about your promotion, Selphie got really fired up about it. She wanted to put together something special for you. That, and your Garden's annual festival was supposed to be coming up, anyway, and she didn't want all their work from before going to waste. So, she and Irvine brought it up to Cid and the town's technicians, and asked if they'd be willing to help fix up the stage in the quad. They went along with it, and even suggested holding it here in town instead. That way it could double as a celebration of forcing Galbadia out, and maybe give the people something to take their minds off all that's happened."
"And they're holding it next to the mayor's house?! The mayor who can't stand having us in his town?!"
"Oh, you might be surprised about that," she smiled as the platform touched down. "Why don't we head on up and have a look?"
Squall's legs broke into a brisk power-walk along the tracks. He paid no heed to whether Rinoa could comfortably match his pace. Any trace of hunger pangs had disappeared from his gut; his weary mental faculties were too flabbergasted to process any other bodily response. He couldn't believe things had progressed so quickly in the time he'd kept himself sequestered. The music continued to swell in volume as he drew closer to the height of the central structure. It was then that he noticed the ring of townspeople and students alike gathered around the solar array's upper rim. He at last broke into a full-on sprint, dashing up the remainder of the incline, and turned to look down on the ensuing festivities.
Hundreds of people bustled about the intertwining stairways, and in the area directly around the central platform. Untold numbers more were seated or standing all around the great basin's lip. A girded, reinforced metal stage with a PA and full-scale lighting system had been erected in front of the mayor's residence, upon which the Garden orchestra was performing. Many white tents stood within the circular expanse near the bottom; they were offering fresh concessions, if the sizzling steam and savory aromas wafting up were any indication. All around, people danced, drank, and laughed merrily, without even a hint of animosity between the two parties. It was a festival that embodied the very image of fellowship.
"What do you think?" Rinoa asked from his side. "Not too shabby for a few days' work, huh?"
Squall was awestruck, speechless even. How the mayor could have given the go-ahead for such a thing was beyond him. The orchestra quickly brought its current piece to a close, prompting a light round of applause. The conductor graciously took his bow. A single outfitted SeeD then strode across the stage to the microphone at its fore. The unmistakable spring in her step was all it took for Squall to recognize her, even from afar.
"Let's hear it again for the Balamb Garden chamber orchestra!" Selphie's voice blared over the PA. "Are we all having a good time so far, people?"
A healthy chorus of cheers erupted in response. The amount in Squall's vicinity startled him.
"That's what I like to hear! And now, if I could have your attention please, there are just a couple of things to cover before we get on with the rest of the festivities. Firstly, on behalf of the Garden student body, I'd like to take a moment to personally congratulate our new commandant-to-be, Squall Leonhart, on his big promotion. Squall, if you're out there, this is all for you, ya big stud! Let's hear it for him, come on, everyone!"
Squall's face flared hot as an iron as the cheering kicked up again. Now, more than ever, he desperately wished he could shrivel up into nothingness. It was then that Rinoa affectionately pulled herself close to him; she wrapped both her arms around his right, and gently rested her head on his shoulder. His sense of mortification shot though the stratosphere. It didn't recede even as she stepped away a moment later.
"Don't let him get away, Rinoa!" Selphie joked. "And now, I'd like to hand the stage over to Mayor Dobe for a brief word. Take it away, sir!"
The bubbly girl quickly vacated her spot at the microphone, as a far slower gentleman shuffled his way across the stage to take her place. The streaks of grey running through his hair practically leapt out from under the spotlights. They were a stark contrast to his dark attire. Although Squall couldn't pick out the details from a distance, the baggy pants implied it was no manner of formal wear.
"My friends," he wearily began. "I'm so happy to see you all enjoying yourselves this evening. And, of course, none of it would have been possible without the Balamb Garden festival committee. Let's have another round of applause for the hardworking men and women who've spent these last few days toiling non-stop."
Dobe's request was promptly gratified. Squall looked on in confusion; this did not sound at all like the same man who'd shown such flippant disregard for SeeD.
"It has been a trying and turbulent week for us all. And one filled with much soul-searching for both me and my wife. Fisherman's Horizon was founded in pursuit of a better way of life. One whereby man and nature could peacefully coexist together, without need for senseless violence. It has been my mission to uphold that ethos for all these years, that any conflict can be solved with civil discussion and discourse. And while I still believe that in my heart to be true, I have come to realize no good will come from demonizing others merely for having a different view of the world, or ascribing to a different set of values. And that to dismiss those views and values outright, without showing the goodwill to listen to the arguments behind them, is the deepest hypocrisy and ignorance."
He paused, allowing a hushed muttering to envelop the solar array. Squall couldn't believe his ears.
"I owe this revelation to one young man, who so passionately showed me that while our beliefs may be opposed to one another, they both share the same end-goal. And to that end, I thank you. To Fisherman's Horizon and SeeD! May we all strive for a better future together! Huzzah!"
The audience burst into their loudest cheer yet. Squall was tempted to cover his ears at the abrupt swell in volume. Instead, he stood motionless. His words, however clumsily he might have grasped for them on the spot five days earlier, had gotten through to him. That he'd given the festival his blessing said more than any carefully crafted speech could.
"Now, let's get on with the show, everyone!" Dobe cheerfully boasted. He signaled for the newly arrived Garden jazz ensemble at his rear to kick into their first number.
"What did I tell you?" Rinoa beamed at him as the brass horns blared. "You're already shaping up to be a highly respected leader. What more could you ask for?"
The last of the jitters finally left Squall's nervous system. The sudden return of his rumbling stomach gave him his answer.
"Food."
He immediately started down the stairs. Rinoa trailed him all the way, seemingly taking Selphie's jest to heart. Many students he passed along the way took notice; they shot him congratulatory smiles, thumbs-ups, and winks aplenty. Upon reaching the base of the solar array, he practically bolted for the nearest concession stand. The line was mercifully short. He purchased three skewers of grilled fish from the vendor, handing one to Rinoa before quickly scarfing down the other two. He then promptly sought to fight his way back out of the throngs of people. Realizing he'd have better luck navigating the crowds by avoiding them altogether, he maneuvered his legs over the nearby guardrails to touch down beneath the solar panels to the right of the stage.
He squinted as he peered across the panels' shadowy undersides. The darkness was broken every so often by the stage lighting shining through the evenly-spaced gaps. He fumbled his way forward, paying no mind to Rinoa's insistence they turn back. He then noticed a ladder's silhouette, propped up between two sets of panels. His tongue caught in his throat; he remembered Irvine's suggestive aside, and yet a strange curiosity beckoned him forward all the same. As he reached the base of the rungs, his eyes bulged as he noticed the discarded magazine lying next to it. 'Girl Next Door,' read its title. A nude model knelt below with her arm held up before her voluptuous chest.
Holy shit, he was serious…
"Wonder who put this here?" Rinoa muttered.
Squall flipped back around. His mind scrambled to think of any explanation he could for the magazine. He then realized she was referring to the ladder.
"Wanna head on up?" she suggested, taking hold of the rungs. "I bet we could get an awesome view from up there."
She carefully pulled herself up. Despite how sturdy the steel frame looked, Squall's close call with the ladder in the Garden's maintenance levels came rushing back to him. He willed himself to be calm as he took the first rung; a drop here would be mere feet as opposed to yards. Assuring himself they'd be fine, he followed her up.
"Wow," Rinoa exhaled as she climbed up top. "It's like having our own private suite!"
He cleared the top of the ladder, and glanced out across the two rows of solar panels ahead to the stage. The jazz ensemble was still performing, now with the addition of a female vocal soloist. It was indeed a picturesque view of the festival's proceedings. Despite his questionable outlook on romance, Irvine's choice had been right on the money.
"I guess so," he muttered. He took a seat squarely in the middle of the panel.
"Geez, don't get too excited about it," Rinoa sarcastically quipped.
She plopped herself down next to him. His heart began to pound just as when she'd snuggled in close to him before.
"So, listen," she started in a gentle tone. "There's something I wanted to say. It's about your promotion. I know it's not like you're suddenly the big man on campus just yet, but… I think I've got a pretty good idea how you're feeling about all this. It's a lot of responsibility to live up to. I'm sure there'll be a lot of new and difficult challenges you'll have to deal with from now on. Me and the others were talking about that, and saying how you'll probably just try to handle everything on your own, like you always do."
No argument there…
"And now that I've said that, you're probably thinking something like, 'No argument there'."
Squall flinched. She burst into a chuckle just as quickly.
"I haven't been around you that long, but I think I know how you tick better than most. You know, when you start thinking really hard about this sort of stuff, you always make this frown."
"I'm out of here," Squall firmly announced; his patience with her had run out for the evening.
He maneuvered himself to stand up. Her arms once again wrapped around his right, keeping him anchored in place.
"Oh, come on!" she pouted, moving dangerously further into his personal space. "I'm just teasing you a little. You need to stop taking everything so seriously all the time."
She leaned her head in closer, placed her lips directly beside his ear, and whispered seductively to him.
"Unless… maybe you want to get serious."
Squall instantly shot to his feet, forcefully breaking from her grasp. He instinctively backed away in terror and alarm, as though she were the very visage of Sorceress Edea herself.
"What the hell do you want from me?!" he finally snapped. "I didn't sign up for any of this!"
"That's it!" she exclaimed, rising to her own feet. "Just let it all out! Anything you need to! That's all we really want from you, Squall. We just want you to talk to us a little more. Like, if there's anything you want to tell us, or anything we can do to help, please don't keep it to yourself. I know it's not easy for you, but I really wish you would just trust us, and not be so scared to rely on other people."
Squall's labored breathing slowly returned to normal. The adrenaline surge dissipated. He stood still as a statue, his mind drawing a blank as to what he could possibly say in response.
Scared? Me?
In the previous month alone, he'd faced dangers that would have reduced lesser men to a sniveling wreck. He'd fought on the shores of Dollet, rescued a mysterious girl he still knew nothing about from a fearsome plant creature, hijacked a train and fended off a disfigured undead thrall aboard, led an assassination attempt, escaped from prison, saved the Garden and disposed of its wicked usurper, among other death-defying feats. That he could be frightened by something so trivial was laughable. Or at least, it ought to have been. And yet, as he wrestled with the tightly-wound knot within his gut, stubbornly refusing to come undone, he realized she was right. He was scared.
Of course, I'm scared. Why shouldn't I be? Nothing lasts in this world, least of all the people around you. Sure, it might feel great to have all these friends who believe in you. And that's exactly what makes it so dangerous, especially if you become too used to it. Someday you're bound to lose everything. Everyone around you will be gone. And then what are you left with? Nothing. Nobody. It's the most miserable feeling in the world, and it's inevitable. How do you possibly recover from that? I never want to have to live through that experience again. I can't. Even if it means being alone… for the rest of my life.
"What a night," Rinoa finally sighed. She sat back down in place. "Great music, nice view, good-looking guy…"
She trailed off before redirecting her focus to him. A content smile came over her face.
"And not only is he good-looking, but sweet too, even if he doesn't like to show it. And a great listener. Right now, he's seriously thinking over what I just said. He's shy, and doesn't say much, but I know. So, come on, what do you think? Is there room enough in that little world of yours for us to squeeze in?"
"I… I appreciate your concern," he stumbled over himself. "But-"
"No 'buts'!" she cut him off with a raised index finger. "Just think about it: the way things are shaping up with this whole war, there might not be another time when we can all be together like this. There's no guarantee for the future. That's why today, the time we have right now, is important. Squall, we really do want to help you as much as we can, for as long as we can. We all love you… there, I said it. So, please, don't freak out on me. We just want to live through this time we have with you, together."
"Together?" he repeated, completely overwhelmed by all she'd laid out. "That's exactly the problem, though. There are no guarantees. Everyone I've ever known goes away in the end. I don't…"
He trailed off as he began choking up. He knew if he let a single tear loose from his eyes, he would be finished. He fought as hard as he could to hold in the sadness, to not allow her to see him in such a vulnerable, pitiful state. A gentle touch on his shoulder roused him. He turned his weary eyes up to Rinoa's in front of him.
"Well, I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him. "Not tonight, anyway. Come on, sit here with me. I won't bite. And I won't leave. I promise."
Those last two words struck him hardest. What's more, he knew she meant it. Unable to come up with any reason to distrust her, he allowed himself to be pulled back down by his arm to sit with her. There they lingered together in silence, side by side, eyes and ears trained to the stage as the jazz band wrapped up another number. All the while, in the midst of what should have been a decidedly awkward scenario, Squall felt relief wash over him.
He recognized the strange contentment; it was very same he'd felt when he'd first danced with Rinoa at the ball. It was serene, peaceful, and reflective of an unspoken understanding between them. She'd gone so far to offer him a reprieve from his troubles, just like that night. And in much the same way, he'd stubbornly refused her at every turn. He remembered his disappointment after she'd abruptly fled the dance floor, and left him standing by his lonesome in the middle of the ballroom. Only now, with her by his side, aware of his loneliness and prepared to stay with him through it all, did he finally understand how the need for companionship could be so intrinsic to the human experience.
The jazz ensemble started up again, this time backed by a selection of players from the orchestra for accompaniment. Mere moments after the slow dance kicked in, Rinoa let out a heavy sigh.
"They would start playing this song right now, wouldn't they?" she softly muttered.
"You don't like it?" Squall asked.
"No, it's not that," she insisted. She hunched up her knees in front of herself, and wrapped her arms around them. "It's just… my mom's the one who wrote it."
"Your mom?"
The unlikely explanation caught him off guard. His mind flashed back to the portrait in General Caraway's study, and the tragic tale of her sudden passing.
"Yeah, she had a little bit of a singing career before I was born. Didn't last long though, once the radio interference started. This was her big hit, 'Eyes on Me'."
As the intro wound down, the female vocal soloist stepped up to the microphone, and began singing.
"Whenever I played my songs
On the stage, on my own
Whenever I spoke my words
Wishing they would be heard
I saw you smiling at me
Was it real, or just my fantasy?
You'd always be there in the corner
Of that tiny little bar
My last night here for you
Same old songs, just once more
My last night here with you?
Maybe yes, maybe no
I kind of liked it that way
How you shyly placed your eyes on me
Did you ever know that I had mine on you?
Darling, so there you are
With that look on your face
As if you're never hurt
As if you're never down
Shall I be the one for you
Who pinches you softly but sure?
And if your smile should fade
Then I will know that you are no dream"
The young lady's stunning voice reverberated all across the solar array. Her delivery was powerful, yet tinged with a fitting sweetness. Squall's eyebrows furrowed further as each successive lyric met his ears; he was positive he'd never heard the song before, and yet somehow, the vocal melody itself was strangely familiar.
"She died when I was really young," Rinoa abruptly started up again. "I remember one time… gosh, I must have been like 4… I asked her if she wrote this song for my dad. She told me to keep it a secret from him, but… apparently she wrote it for another guy she was in love with before. A soldier, who would come to see her perform all the time back when she was still just playing little clubs. He got sent off to fight in the war, and never came back."
A lightbulb suddenly went off in Squall's head. His eyes bulged. His mouth fell open. This was the very same piece Julia had written for Laguna, and played for him in instrumental form on that fateful night. Past and present once again collided, leaving him dumbfounded. Beyond the fact that Rinoa's mother was indeed the woman Laguna had been smitten with, that he'd actually borne witness to the love affair she spoke of was positively world-rending. Before he knew it, she'd sprung to her feet, and turned to face him.
"Come on," she smiled, extending her hand to him. "How about one more, for old time's sake? Or, do you still only dance with girls you like?"
Squall scoffed at the jest. And in that moment, he made a conscious decision to put aside all he couldn't hope to understand, past and future alike.
"Got a problem with that?"
He took her hand.