____________________________fragments of memories - by adire___

Sssschick.

He had known that this day would come.

Hiss-ching.

He had known, and tried to pretend that it would never happen, that it was just speculation.....and now all of Garden was paying for his witless self-delusion.

Thud. Crunch.

Rinoa….

It was the first explosion that had filled him with a sense of sick dread and sent him running from the isolation of his Balamb Garden third-floor office….and it was the second that left him reeling, almost losing his balance as he disdained the stairs from the elevator’s raised dais to vault over the rail and to the main floor below, nearly vanishing into the milling throng of panicked students and only-slightly-less-panicked SeeDs trying to bring them to order.

And it was the third that flung Squall back against the wall of the library now, the sickening crunch of bone warring with the crackle of a fading Thundaga spell’s blinding light in his ears. His gunblade, scarred and bent, nearly ruined from striking against one of the strongest Protect shields that he had ever encountered, lay as forlornly as a wilted and crushed blossom at his feet as he slid down the wall, clutching his mangled shoulder in pain and desperately struggling to find the resources, the clarity of mind, to invoke a cure.

“Aw.....did the little Commander fall down, go “boom”?” That voice....that sick mockery of a voice, cold, arrogant, touched with an edge of derangement, liquid sex wrapped about hard steel....it made him ache to hear it, made him ache and burn with guilt and rage.

“Stop this, Rinoa, “ he hissed, glaring up at her through his hair as the woman, somehow both terrifying and resplendent in nothing more than the simplicity of a standard Balamb official’s uniform, stepped closer to the fallen male.....and her husband. A creature transformed.....cold-eyed, seething with repressed hatred and rage, vibrant with something dark and heady that surged just beneath flesh of sunrise-kissed cream. “Stop it.....this isn’t you. This isn’t right.....don’t make me fight you, please. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She smirked, and one boot-clad foot crunched down on broken glass, rustled against the torn pages of one of the many books flung around the library, scattered across the remnants of imploded windows and shelves that were toppled as though a whirlwind had momentarily been confined to a single room. She had been conducting new student orientation there that morning, while Squall was busy sorting through the enormous stack of paperwork that he had allowed to pile upon his desk.....when it had struck without warning, like lightning stabbing down from a clear and cloudless sky.

The Lunar Madness.

Squall.....you’re still not entirely safe. Cid’s voice echoed in his ears as he struggled to his feet, knees trembling with the pain that tasted like heated metal in the back of his throat as his injured shoulder struck the wall behind him. The last warning before they had parted ways, before the portly man had left, placing Garden and its well-being in the hands of a man who still felt like a boy, who was not sure if he could handle the responsibility but who had managed over the last three years, somehow, with the support of a wife who never ceased to amaze him in her optimism, idealism, and determination. Rinoa’s still a sorceress, and one without knowledge of her power, at that...she may not be entirely in control of her own actions. Sometimes the power decides for itself.....and if the outside influences are strong enough, she may become a danger once more.

Outside influences? What kind of outside influences?

The Moon, my boy. The Moon. Its gravitational pull is part of everything....the Lunar Cry, even the daily behavior of the monsters that it spawns. It’s in her blood now.....and she may still be vulnerable to it. You’ll have to watch her...and protect her; I don't think even she knows how much of a danger she could be. A time may be coming soon when we will all be put to the test once more.

I won’t let anything happen to her....I swear it.

I swear it. He repeated the vow to himself as he watched that silent figure approach warily, ominous and beautiful, her every step echoing in the emptiness of the ruined chamber. I won’t lose you like this...I can’t.

“What’s the matter, “darling”?” He flinched as she stopped a mere foot away from him, one cruel hand suddenly snapping out to prod at the injured shoulder, making him wince at the fresh stab of ice laced with fire....but he remained silent as he simply met her eyes unwaveringly, those strange eyes that were at once so familiar and so oddly, frighteningly insane. “You look....almost afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.” Just a few more moments, buying time as he gathered his strength, and he lifted his chin almost defiantly. “I could never be afraid of you-ah!” He hissed, catching a breath between his teeth as Rinoa shoved him against the wall, eyes narrowing.

“You should be. All these years, you’ve treated me like a damned child, a simpleton, sheltering me.....just like my father. You’ve thought I was weak since the moment you saw me. “ Vicious accusations, snarled past pretty lips curled so uglily. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Or I wouldn’t care, because I was too much in love with your pathetic self?”

This wasn’t Rinoa, the innocently wise woman-child that he knew. No....this was someone new, someone harder, hateful.....like looking into an alien's eyes, even if Squall would never look away, would hold that stare until those dark orbs burned through him with Death's possessive touch. "No." Low, firm. "That's not true....and you know it. You know it, Rinoa.....where ever you are inside there. I'm asking you again....please stop this."

Her laughter slapped him harshly, making his jaw lock. "I like it when you say please. Beg me." Tossing her head, she ran her fingers through her hair, such an arrogant gesture, as she stepped back. Her back was turned to him now, but he could feel a subtle tension in the air, and knew that he only had a few moments left. "Beg me.....or you will be the first to know the true meaning of sufferi--"

Now! She turned, the power rising in her fingers, hot and white, and in that last moment before she could speak Squall thrust himself away from the wall, releasing the concentration that he had been slowly building, releasing the energies contained within; the surge of his own joined spells blinded him for a moment, soothing flares of seafoam color like an embracing sea warring with the harsher jangle of colors like sounds, iridescent psychedelic ripping into the time spectrum in jarring discord....and as the healing relief of the curative magic settled over him, the steel walls of an isolated bubble of stopped time fell upon her.....

......and just as suddenly ripped apart as the final, crucial moment of Squall's concentration was broken by the intrusion of a group of armed SeeDs and Cadets bursting into the library, too little, too late, and before he could cry warning.....

....her anger was unleashed.

Like a sonic wave the destructive energies rippled out from her, distorting his vision, flinging him to the floor once more....and he could only watch in horror as, wreathed in the flickering flame of her own power, Rinoa wreaked her havoc. Screams rose as men and women were lifted bodily by invisible hands, tossed like rag dolls against the walls with enough force to leave them pulped from within, smears of blood trailing the crushed sacks of their bodies down the walls as they fell, sticking wetly....and they were the lucky ones. Shattered windows swallowed others like gaping mouths, and Squall had no doubt that they felt the eternity of every second as they fell to their deaths, and still he, he was spared, left alive to bear the blame as the storm that was Rinoa quieted as abruptly as it had exploded, leaving her standing there, breathless, as still as a statue, amidst the remains of a terrible carnage, mere seconds ending too many lives....

“Rinoa, “ he whispered in tones choked by a hard, heavy knot in his chest, and struggled to rise, to approach her; their eyes met like the harsh clash of locking blades, and in that moment he searched for some hint of the woman he knew in those deep, dark fathoms, while she stood frozen, a lifetime of wars raging in the otherwise still pools of her gaze of oddly calm madness, a thousand unnamed soldiers dying unseen and unheralded within her mind, forgotten before they even lived.

“Rinoa….” he breathed again, a tentative hand extending for hers, reaching for the loose curl of her fingers, pleading, begging her to come back to him with nothing more than that offered hand….

….and closing upon nothing as she hissed, baring her teeth at him like an animal, and then turned and fled.

“Rinoa!” Squall cried, but the mantra of three bore no power over her, and although he lunged to capture her in his arms he was too late, for her lips were moving, and the magic was rising, tingling his skin, bristling the short hairs on his arms and the back of his neck; for an instant he was blinded by the surge of gold and violet eclipsing her form, and then he was falling, collapsing to the floor…..

…..alone.

“Dammit!” he nearly roared, frustration and pain welling within him and seeming to find voice in the sounds of his fists striking the floor. Stupid…I was so blind and stupid….I wanted to believe it would stay dormant, that she could control it….and because of my stupidity now the entire world is in danger. Pushing himself to his knees, Squall inhaled a ragged breath, burying his face in his hands. This is the fool that love makes me….and I can’t let anyone else suffer for it. Balamb Garden has already paid a high enough price. Alone, perhaps he could stop her….alone, perhaps he could bring her back....he had no choice. There had to be something of Rinoa left, something pure, uncorrupted, something of the woman he loved….

…and he would be damned if he didn’t find it, before it was too late.

I had warning…..He gripped at his hair, rasped in another breath, ground the heels of his palms against his eyes. I saw it coming and I was stupid….I was stupid! Now he knew how Cid had felt, knowing what would happen to Edea, preparing for it even while he hated it…..but at least the former HeadMaster had been prepared instead of foolishly ignoring the warnings, thinking not to me, not to us, that’ll never happen to us.

That’ll never happen to us.

Pain stabbed through him again, and he nearly ripped out a handful of sandy-brown strands as his hands clenched; he wanted to scream, to strike himself, to inflict the punishment that he deserved now, when he was alone with his humiliation.

But….he wasn’t really alone, was he?

The sounds of soft, raspy sobs, muffled, harsh, finally penetrated his self-loathing, and he lowered his hands away from his face, opening his eyes to look across the macabrely painted chamber towards the sound.

A dark form knelt there….no, two forms, difficult to see within the shadows cast by the shelter of one bookcase toppled against another, the head of one resting in the other’s lap, half-shrouded by a spill of dark hair flowing across pillowing thighs and onto the floor. He recognized the fallen one, despite the conformity of the SeeD uniform; Terian had made SeeD two years ago, and was well-known for his skill as one of the best of the elite forces--and would have stood out even if not for his almost feminine handsomeness, the soft-edged refinement of sculpted, golden-caramel features and a mane of hip-length chocolate hair the envy of many females. Even before Squall rose to limp slowly towards them, he knew that he was dead, beyond the recovery of even a SeeD's magic….and he cursed himself bitterly, mourning not the loss of a good soldier, but an innocent life....so many innocent lives. I’ll burn in Hell for this…and I deserve it.

The other was harder to place until the slender figure turned its bowed head slightly, a hint of light piercing the shadows to momentarily illuminate a brilliant streak of neon color, electric blue-green, running like alien blood through the blue-black waters of a sea of dark hair, shoulder-length strands disheveled and half-torn messily from a tail bound at the nape of a slim neck, hiding the being’s features….but that single distinctive marking had already placed a face in Squall’s mind--and suddenly tore him back to a moment only two weeks before, a singular instance in time that had crept unnoticed into his mind to imbed itself in his memories, waiting for the right moment to haunt him.

“Squall, get away from that wall and come on. I swear, you do this every time.” Rinoa’s teasing smile had taken the sting from her words, but Squall still resisted the tug of her hand upon his, part of an old ritual. “You’ve got to mingle and let the new SeeDs know they have the support of their Headmaster.”

A tolerant smile curved his lips as he shook his head slightly before turning it to glance out over the ballroom floor, and the figures swirling across it; the scene was almost the mirror of the night that he had first met Rinoa, another Inauguration Ball in a long procession, even the waltz only a variation of the last….though in the past three years, since Cid had retired to vanish with Edea and left Squall in his position, the young man had viewed them from a different perspective, even if he still seemed to always gravitate towards the same isolated corner. “I’m not the Headmaster….just the acting Commander. “Headmaster” would imply that I know something about teaching.” The lightly self-mocking reply fell from his lips almost by rote, and she laughed as she always did and only tugged him away, towards the throng. She looked like her mother like this, in the long, sleek burgundy gown, with her hair bound in an elegant chignon--Rinoa as she had once been, lost to him now, ripped away in a single fell swoop--and he found himself admiring her even as he followed, tugging at his hand in token resistance….

….and finding himself suddenly caught as his gaze swept the gathering once more. Far on the other side of the ballroom, a singular presence captured his attention, although he could not quite understand why; a boy leaned there, looking distinctly stiff and uncomfortable in his new SeeD uniform, one foot propped against the enormous pillar behind and a glass of champagne in his hand and a small, full mouth tight with irritation. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him, although Squall vaguely remembered that his name was Razor, a bit of an outcast among the other students, disliked for his cold and stony silence….Terian Takeharu’s younger brother, slightly shorter than the older SeeD, his tawny mocha frame more slender still even if his shoulders were more solidly cut; despite a silently brooding nature that was the exact opposite of Terian’s open friendliness, the relation was obvious in similar features, the cast of large, exotically slanted eyes whose colors he couldn’t remember….and he suddenly recalled the silent look of muted resentment that the boy had given him when he had spoken to the newly-promoted Cadets and mentioned something vague about being pleased to see another member of the Takeharu family among them. He never had been good at those personal comments….but suddenly he regretted saying that, even if it made no sense.

“Squall? Darling, what is it?” Rinoa had noticed his stillness, his captivation, and stood at his elbow, her small frame rising upwards on her toes to peer over the crowd, trying to follow the line of his vision. “Is something wrong?”

Shaking himself, he tore himself from his staring, a puzzled frown curving his lips as he lowered his gaze to his wife’s curious eyes. “No…” He hesitated, before shaking his head. “Just…something about that boy….reminded me of someone….” ….myself. There was usually one in every crop of students, a quiet, sullen one, either a trouble-maker or simply unpopular for no real reason other than his or her silence….and seeing them always reminded Squall of himself as a student, but it had never struck him so strongly.

“Who, Razor?” Squall suddenly realized that his mind had wandered off into space again, and Rinoa was speaking while tugging on his arm gently and offering him a reassuring smile. “He’ll be all right….some of the instructors were worried about him adapting, but see? Terian’s got him….as long as he’s got his brother, he’ll be fine.” Indeed, another glance found the other SeeD in Squall’s line of vision…and although he could not hear what was said between the siblings, he caught a sense of the elder’s gentle teasing and coaxing, the younger’s attempt at moody indifference that finally wavered and then shattered into surprise as he was dragged off by the hand, nearly dropping his champagne, eyes wide. Razor’s odd relationship with his brother, if Squall recalled correctly, was one of the many reasons that the other students looked at him askance, and he had a vague idea of the rumors of further intimacy between them, gossiping tales of incest made all the more lewd in the telling for the fact that there was no hint of proof other than that Terian was the only person whose company that Razor would tolerate for more than five minutes at a time. “…they kind of look like us back then, don’t they?”

….yeah….they do. His frown deepened as he continued to watch them even as he trailed along with his wife, for an instant seeing not Terian and Razor, but himself and Rinoa in ghostly overlay as the older brother marshaled the younger onto the dance floor, steadying his stumbling, uncertain movements with gentle hands and overriding his protests with laughter that was obviously affectionate even from a soundless distance overridden by such lively music; it was eerie, the mimicry, how Razor’s every misstep mirrored Squall’s own from long ago, how Terian’s hands guided him so exactly, perfect down to the expression of aggravated embarrassment as the newly-promoted SeeD accidentally jostled another pair only to have their glares abated by a sharp comment from Terian--providing the perfect opportunity for Razor to attempt to escape, only to be drawn back by that firmly-captured hand. It was as though history had decided to repeat itself, simply casting new actors in the roles of this oft-repeated play.

History repeating itself indeed.....and now Squall was cast in Cid’s role, Rinoa Edea’s, and the weight of a terrible burden once more rested upon shoulders that he was not sure were strong enough to bear it.

The sounds of those whispered sobs drew him back to the present.....and he closed his eyes, swallowing back as he looked away from the boy; he was different today from Squall's momentary lapse into the past, his lips slicked in black, eyes lined in heavy shades of kohl, slim torso clad in customary garb of close-clinging black vinyl, a simple sleeveless turtleneck accented by a spiked collar and completed with a simple pair of elbow-high, fingerless black snakeskin gloves and pants of leather in matching hues, tight, broken only by a single slash along one long, lean-muscled thigh, allowing crimson free from a shallow gash to pool upon the slick material. Blood ran from numerous slashes in Squall's simple navy-hued uniform as well, drawn from shards of flying glass, but he hardly noticed. I want to say I'm sorry....but I know it will never be enough. Squall fell heavily to his knees, legs unwilling to support him; his lower lip caught itself between his teeth as the sound of his calves striking rustling paper alerted Razor to his presence, causing his head to jerk up...and like an animal, wild-eyed, momentarily maddened with grief, he flinched back into the recesses of the debris-made cavern, drawing his precious burden with him and glaring at Squall as though he might tear the fallen from him.

Those eyes.....god, they were murder, with their ravaged pain and fury, the red rims of tears, the accusations in the depths of a hue so strange that Squall wondered how he could have forgotten it, the same wild neon blue-green as the streak in his hair, lit with sparks of aquamarine like chips of jeweled stardust and fading to a deeper hue of midnight colors about the edges, where flecks of muted, barely-seen violet swam in the darker shades, brighter now with their wet sheen and seeming to hide secrets most forbidden in their depths, secrets only a fool would pursue and yet that, at the same time, seemed to beg to be discovered by either the foolhardy or the brave. The elder SeeD realized that he could not meet that molten stare....and he found himself swallowing hard once more as he looked somewhere beyond the boy instead, forcing his voice to emerge in steady tones.

"Are you injured?" The only thing he could think of to say....but it was necessary; no matter his own personal feelings, he was still acting head of the Garden, and if he did not assume a role of calm command, the entire facility could fall into panic and chaos. Silence met him, and silence scored into him as electric eyes narrowed, and without a single word spilling past the boy's lips he could read the harsh rage of his stare.

Injured....injured? He lies dead in my arms and you ask if I am injured, as though it matters...as though I matter, when he's dead.....dead, and you didn't stop it....."....I'll kill her." Squall wasn't prepared for that ragged exhalation, the rasp of husky tones that seemed the secretive whispers of dark, forbidden places captured in sound, ancient and mysterious.

"No." The single denial emerged more harshly than he intended as fierce gray eyes narrowed, locking on Razor, before Squall forced himself to calm, containing the brooding storm of his emotions within. "No....I....this is my responsibility. If anyone is to kill her, it will be me." It should be me....but I don't want to kill her....there has to be a way to fix this, I don't even know what happened....

As though echoing his thoughts, Razor lowered his eyes in thick sweeps of dark lashes, shaking his head slightly as he spoke, tones gentling to a whisper softer than the creature of cold stone, unfeeling and isolated, should have been capable of, and yet perhaps it could not be helped when gazing upon that relaxed visage that he cradled, peaceful despite the blood that streaked golden skin in crimson mimicry of the clear tears streaking down the boy's cheeks. "...what happened?"

"I don't know." Razor seemed not to even hear Squall as he simply stared down at Terian, running his fingers through that long, liquid hair repeatedly in an almost compulsive gesture, and the older male shifted his gaze to stare down at his own hands. "I....she was....is a sorceress.....it was dormant.....now it's not." Closing his eyes, he rocked back on his heels, starting to rise. "I don't know what caused it....but I'll find out. I'll take care of it.....don't....don't worry about it. You have enough to deal with." He could remember a time when he would not have bothered to say such a thing, or even cared that the boy might be in pain....but Rinoa had changed that. A lot of things had changed that..... "...I'm sorry. I know it won't bring him back, but I'm sorry."

"Don't you dare." The venom of the response startled him, and he looked up to find Razor glaring at him as though he might strike him down that very instant, his body hunched protectively over the fallen form. "We don't need your pity."

We.....Squall turned his eyes away, sighing. "It wasn't pity." Helpless....so helpless, and he raised his hands as though he might.....he didn't know, and he let his hands fall limply at his sides, turning away and secretly relieved when the sounds of others approaching broke over the tension and gave him something to focus on as the crew of medics rousted from the infirmary burst into the room. "I'll leave you be...." he murmured with no little chagrin, but was unable to hear a response, if any, as Dr. Kadowaki raised her voice to beckon him over.

"Squall! What happened in here?!"

.......I wish...I wish I knew.

I wish I knew what to do.

In the noise, in the human rustle of shock, he could still feel silence. It was behind him, in a pair of neon-hued eyes. It was in him, and it knew the answer.

Huddled in his shelter, Razor clutched his slaughtered angel close....and wept for them both.

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