Fanfiction: With These Signs Upon Our Souls, Chapter Five (FFVIII/FFXIII)
It actually didn't take me a million years to post this chapter! I'm as amazed as you are.
Title: With These Signs Upon Our Souls, Chapter Five
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII/Final Fantasy XIII
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2,600 (this chapter; 11,300 cumulative)
Summary: The exam brief is simple enough: protect the fal'Cie from the Timber resistance. Squad B are about to get the mission as wrong as humanly possible.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Quistis gives a soft, wordless exclamation of surprise as the ship pulls in, and Squall looks up to see someone standing on the dock in the evening light, waving at them: Rinoa.
“How did you get here so quickly?” Quistis asks her, when they’ve disembarked.
Rinoa laughs. “We’re just that good,” she says. “No, I think it’s because of the l’Cie thing. I don’t get tired as easily as I used to. And I know Seifer’ll probably say that he could always cross a mountain range without stopping, but I’m pretty sure it was being a l’Cie for him too.”
“Are you on your own now?” Squall asks.
Rinoa shakes her head. “Got a present for you,” she says, grinning. “Come on.”
She leads them out of the port. Seifer is sitting slumped on the steps at the base of the ticket office, his eyes closed and his elbows on his knees, rubbing two gloved fingers along the scar on his forehead.
“That’s a terrible present,” Squall hears Zell mutter beside him.
“Seifer,” Quistis says. “You came back.”
“Wasn’t gonna miss all the fun, was I, Instructor?” He opens his eyes and smirks. “Besides, Rinoa told me you guys didn’t stand a chance without me. Couldn’t exactly sit back and let you all turn Cie’th.”
Zell is already shaking. “Like you actually care whether we’re Cie’th or not, jerk.”
The smirk quickly turns into a scowl. “Believe what you want.”
“Why the hell-”
“Guys, don’t fight!” Selphie interrupts them.
“I’d advise listening to Selphie,” Quistis says. “This is exactly the sort of thing that accelerates becoming a Cie’th. If we want to succeed, we need to work together.”
“Now shake hands and be friends,” Selphie demands.
Both Seifer and Zell stare incredulously at her. She puts her hands on her hips and glares fiercely back, apparently not joking.
Zell is the first to give in to her intimidation. He approaches Seifer reluctantly and, even more reluctantly, holds out a still-gauntleted hand. Seifer looks at it and then at Zell. He makes no move to take it. Zell withdraws his hand, looking slightly relieved.
“Hmm,” Selphie says, disapprovingly. “I think they should travel on their own together until they learn to get along.”
Zell looks appalled.
“I think that seems like a terrible idea,” Rinoa says, looking on with a slight frown. “So what’s the history with you guys?”
“The history is Seifer’s an asshole,” Zell says, immediately.
“You think so?” Rinoa tilts her head. “I mean, I know he can be kind of an asshole sometimes, but...”
“Rinoa,” Seifer says, mock-wounded.
Squall is thinking. He and Selphie had the same dream: the one where they were other people. While they were dreaming, Squall heard two voices in his head: hers, and...
“Seifer,” he says. “When we were separated, did you have any strange dreams?”
Seifer raises his eyebrows. “That’s the first thing you say to me? I thought this was supposed to be a tearful reunion. Looks like Chicken-wuss here’s the only one about to start crying.”
“Looks like he was right about you, too,” Rinoa says, folding her arms, her tone no longer playful. “Can’t you stop teasing him for a second? You heard what Quistis said; you’re putting both of you in danger.”
Seifer frowns, opens his mouth to retort, but Rinoa cuts him off, her eyes widening suddenly. “Wait, did you say strange dreams?”
Squall nods.
“There was that time you passed out,” she says to Seifer. “Right?” She turns back to the group to explain. “We were running away from a Grendel and he just fell. I freaked out. Had to figure out Float really fast so I could drag him out of there.”
“I dreamt I was someone else,” Seifer mutters, looking angry and embarrassed. He won’t meet their eyes. “Some Galbadian soldier called Ward or something. But why the hell does it matter?”
“Oh!” Selphie exclaims. “Didn’t you think Sir Laguna was cute?”
Seifer frowns. “Uh, no,” he says, and then, “Wait, what?”
“Huh?” Rinoa asks.
Seifer gives her a sharp look. “You told her about it?”
“I’m seriously lost here,” Rinoa says. “Who’s Sir Laguna?”
“He was in my dream,” Seifer says. “How does she know that?”
“You could just ask me, y’know,” Selphie points out.
“Well, I didn’t say anything,” Rinoa says. “You never even told me what the guys were called.”
“Then how-”
“I think you may have had the same dream,” Quistis cuts in.
Seifer stares.
“Not just you and me,” Selphie says. “Squall as well. Isn’t that cool?”
-
Winhill is some distance inland. It’d actually have been faster to approach it from the western coast, but there’s no port over there; not surprising, as there’s nothing else on the Galbadian west coast but prisons and high-security military institutions, and Squall doesn’t think they really go in for sightseeing. There’s a small car rental at the port, though, so in theory they should be able to reach Winhill easily enough.
In theory.
Rinoa storms out of the rental shop. “He won’t give us a car!”
Next to Squall, Zell looks up, startled. “Huh?”
The door opens again behind her, considerably less violently.
“He saw my brand,” Selphie explains, coming out. Quistis, who was holding the door for her, follows.
“And he asked whether we were all l’Cie,” Rinoa says.
Seifer raises his eyebrows. “And you told him?”
“I told him the truth,” Quistis admits. “It didn’t occur to me that he might deny us service.”
“He says he doesn’t rent to l’Cie,” Rinoa says. “He says we could turn crystal or Cie’th and he won’t get the car back. Can you believe that?”
“So we can go in and rent one,” Zell says, putting a hand on Squall’s shoulder and gesturing at Seifer with the other. “He doesn’t know we’re l’Cie, right?”
Quistis glances back through the rental window. “Unfortunately, he’s watching us talk to you. I’m not sure that will work.”
“Right,” Seifer says, striding towards the door. “I’ll get us a car.”
“Uh,” Zell says, “what are you gonna...”
But Seifer’s already disappeared into the rental.
Rinoa exchanges a quick look with Quistis, then follows him in.
-
“Okay,” Rinoa says, emerging from the rental some time later. She seems to be trying very hard not to smile. “Now he says he’s not gonna give us a car even if we miraculously stop being l’Cie.”
Seifer stalks past her and keeps going, ignoring the rest of them, in the direction of Winhill.
-
The boat left fairly late in the day and it was already late evening by the time it pulled in, so they’re not going to reach Winhill before tomorrow. Squall, Selphie, Quistis and Zell are each carrying a lightweight sleeping bag, bundled up and strapped on as a backpack; Quistis pointed out before they left Timber that they’d probably be sleeping in the open at some point. Seifer and Rinoa, on the other hand...
“I didn’t realise we’d be joining you again,” Quistis says, apologetically.
Squall shrugs his sleeping bag from his shoulders. The days have been getting colder, but it’s still warm enough. “I don’t need this.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Instructor,” Seifer says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t need one either.”
“Well, I’m not gonna turn it down, if you’re sure,” Rinoa says. Squall tosses the sleeping bag in her direction; she catches it. “Thanks, Squall.”
-
It’s not the first time Squall’s spent the night on grass, but it still takes him a while to get to sleep. He can’t stop thinking.
Why did they all have the same dream? He’d thought maybe they’d been hit by a spell or something, but Seifer had it as well, and he wasn’t anywhere near Selphie or Squall. Maybe it is to do with their Focus; he can’t think of anything else they all have in common, beyond being former SeeD candidates. He’s not sure why only half of them would have seen it, though, if it was supposed to be a vision from the fal’Cie. And what could it be telling them to do: fight Funguars? Seduce pianists?
They’ll be at Winhill tomorrow. They can focus on that for now.
-
“Hey, Squall.”
A nudge in his side, and Squall’s rolled into a fighting crouch before he’s even registered what woke him.
“Seifer,” he says.
Seifer jerks his head towards the closest of the mountains. There’s a long swathe of scarred land at its base, Squall sees as he stands: bare, rocky earth, probably offering a stronger foothold than the grass around them, probably out of the others’ earshot. “Bring your weapon.”
Squall doesn’t have to ask why; he just picks up Revolver and follows.
-
It’s only now, fighting an opponent so familiar Squall can move without thinking, that he realises how much becoming l’Cie has changed them. There’s no GF behind their actions, but they both move faster, strike harder, endure more pain. He understands, now, how Seifer and Rinoa crossed those mountains so quickly; he understands how Seifer can be sparring instead of sleeping right now, so soon after that journey.
It feels good to be sparring again. It’s a distraction, if nothing else.
Squall is the one who eventually calls it off. They no longer know their limits, which means they have to be cautious. He feels like he could keep fighting until sunrise, but he can’t be certain that he wouldn’t be doing himself or Seifer permanent injury if he did.
Seifer laughs. “Whatever makes you feel better about losing.”
Squall doesn’t respond to that; he just sits down on a slab of rock and closes his eyes. Concentrating hard, he draws up the warmth of Cure from somewhere in his chest. Using magic as a l’Cie isn’t exactly the same as using paramagic, but it’s easier with the spells he cast often before the fal’Cie incident; it’s as if all his casts of drawn Cures have worn a channel that the real magic can flow along. He has no idea where he’d even begin if he wanted to cast Haste, or Triple, or any of the other useful spells he’s never drawn before.
But Rinoa cast Cure by accident, he remembers, just after she became a l’Cie. And she said she worked out how to cast Float in the mountains. He’s not sure whether she has any experience of paramagic.
Certain people have a natural aptitude for true magic, it’s theorised; some become Sorceresses, some become powerful l’Cie. Is that why the fal’Cie chose her? She was the first of them to be given a Focus, after all.
The green light flickering over his eyelids fades, and he opens them. Seifer is cleaning Hyperion. There’s a bruise already coming up over his cheekbone.
Squall touches the same spot on his own cheek, to indicate it. Seifer catches the movement and gives him a hard stare.
“You’re bruised,” Squall says.
“Yeah, well done, you got a hit in,” Seifer says. “You’re still worse off.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Squall says. “You should heal it. If it gets worse, it could impair your vision.”
“Pretty sure you couldn’t do any real damage if your gunblade was on fucking fire, but thanks for the concern. I’ll get something for it in Winhill if I have to.”
Squall frowns. “We’re l’Cie. We don’t have to worry about conserving magic resources any more. Just use Cure.”
Seifer walks away without answering, back towards the still-sleeping group.
It doesn’t occur to Squall until the next morning that he might not know how to cast it.
-
“So, uh,” Zell says, “are we sure we’re gonna find our Focus here?”
Winhill doesn’t seem like a big place, but how are they going to know their Focus, even if they see it? Are they just supposed to walk into the square from their vision and have a sudden epiphany? “It’s best not to get your hopes up.”
“Do you really have to be so gloomy?” Rinoa asks, with a laugh. “I think it’s fun to get your hopes up sometimes. We all saw Winhill in our vision, so I’m pretty sure we’re in the right place. If the fal’Cie wants us to do something, it’s gonna try and help us find out what it is, right?”
Something about Rinoa bothers him. It’s not the same as Selphie, who Squall has already given up any hope of comprehending; Rinoa seems rational enough. But she also seems cheerful most of the time, teasing everyone, smiling and laughing as if they’re only travelling together to see the world. Has she even realised that she’s dying?
“Yeah,” Zell says, “but... I don’t know, a town square? What are we meant to get from that?”
Rinoa shrugs. “Maybe we’ll know when we see it.”
“It doesn’t really matter if we don’t find our Focus, anyway,” Squall says. “The outcome will be more or less the same.”
For a moment, no one says anything.
“Uh,” Selphie says, “was that you... trying to be comforting?”
Selphie thinks he’s strange? That doesn’t feel great. “I don’t like it, but we’re l’Cie. There are only two ways this can end.”
“And you think they’re the same?” Rinoa asks, her tone incredulous. “If you turn into a Cie’th, you might kill people. Are you telling me you’d be okay with that?”
She... actually has a point. Of course, when Squall is a Cie’th, he won’t care, but from a wider perspective it would be better for them to complete their Focus.
But there’s an alternative.
“If any of you are still human when I turn into a Cie’th,” he says, “you should kill me.”
Rinoa sighs. “That really wasn’t the conclusion you were meant to come to.”
“I could kill you right now,” Seifer suggests. “Save us all some trouble later on.”
Squall meets Seifer’s eyes. If he’d really be willing, when the time comes... “I’m serious.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Seifer says after a moment, looking away. “You can get someone else to do your dirty work.”
“Well,” Quistis says, with a small smile, “I think you’ve just found a reason to complete your Focus, Squall. I don’t think any of us want to have to kill you, and I don’t think you’d enjoy killing us either.”
He’s been trying not to think about that possibility. If the others become Cie’th before him, maybe it’d be easiest just to let them take him down.
Rinoa nods firmly. “She’s right, y’know. And, hey, what if there’s a way to become uncrystallised? If we’re Cie’th, people will attack us. If we’re crystals, they might try to find a way to bring us back.”
If there were a way to come back, Squall thinks, someone would have found it by now. What he says is, “Do you know where this square is?”
Rinoa shoots him a look, but at least she stops talking about it. “Yeah, it’s just through here.”
-
She leads them into the square.
She’s right; it is the place from their vision. The same old-fashioned little houses; the same flower design on the cobblestones. It’s quiet and the air is cool and Ellone is suspended above a plinth in the centre, frozen in crystal.
Ellone.
Squall stops moving, staring at her.
Ellone.
She looks so young, now. He always thought of her as much older than him, but she can’t have been more than thirteen when the fal’Cie took her.
He’d forgotten. How could he have forgotten?
“Oh,” Quistis says, softly. “That’s why.”
The reason he attacked the fal’Cie, Squall thinks. The reason they’re all l’Cie now. It all comes back to this girl he couldn’t even remember.
It takes a conscious effort to start breathing again.
Chapter Six
Title: With These Signs Upon Our Souls, Chapter Five
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII/Final Fantasy XIII
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2,600 (this chapter; 11,300 cumulative)
Summary: The exam brief is simple enough: protect the fal'Cie from the Timber resistance. Squad B are about to get the mission as wrong as humanly possible.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Quistis gives a soft, wordless exclamation of surprise as the ship pulls in, and Squall looks up to see someone standing on the dock in the evening light, waving at them: Rinoa.
“How did you get here so quickly?” Quistis asks her, when they’ve disembarked.
Rinoa laughs. “We’re just that good,” she says. “No, I think it’s because of the l’Cie thing. I don’t get tired as easily as I used to. And I know Seifer’ll probably say that he could always cross a mountain range without stopping, but I’m pretty sure it was being a l’Cie for him too.”
“Are you on your own now?” Squall asks.
Rinoa shakes her head. “Got a present for you,” she says, grinning. “Come on.”
She leads them out of the port. Seifer is sitting slumped on the steps at the base of the ticket office, his eyes closed and his elbows on his knees, rubbing two gloved fingers along the scar on his forehead.
“That’s a terrible present,” Squall hears Zell mutter beside him.
“Seifer,” Quistis says. “You came back.”
“Wasn’t gonna miss all the fun, was I, Instructor?” He opens his eyes and smirks. “Besides, Rinoa told me you guys didn’t stand a chance without me. Couldn’t exactly sit back and let you all turn Cie’th.”
Zell is already shaking. “Like you actually care whether we’re Cie’th or not, jerk.”
The smirk quickly turns into a scowl. “Believe what you want.”
“Why the hell-”
“Guys, don’t fight!” Selphie interrupts them.
“I’d advise listening to Selphie,” Quistis says. “This is exactly the sort of thing that accelerates becoming a Cie’th. If we want to succeed, we need to work together.”
“Now shake hands and be friends,” Selphie demands.
Both Seifer and Zell stare incredulously at her. She puts her hands on her hips and glares fiercely back, apparently not joking.
Zell is the first to give in to her intimidation. He approaches Seifer reluctantly and, even more reluctantly, holds out a still-gauntleted hand. Seifer looks at it and then at Zell. He makes no move to take it. Zell withdraws his hand, looking slightly relieved.
“Hmm,” Selphie says, disapprovingly. “I think they should travel on their own together until they learn to get along.”
Zell looks appalled.
“I think that seems like a terrible idea,” Rinoa says, looking on with a slight frown. “So what’s the history with you guys?”
“The history is Seifer’s an asshole,” Zell says, immediately.
“You think so?” Rinoa tilts her head. “I mean, I know he can be kind of an asshole sometimes, but...”
“Rinoa,” Seifer says, mock-wounded.
Squall is thinking. He and Selphie had the same dream: the one where they were other people. While they were dreaming, Squall heard two voices in his head: hers, and...
“Seifer,” he says. “When we were separated, did you have any strange dreams?”
Seifer raises his eyebrows. “That’s the first thing you say to me? I thought this was supposed to be a tearful reunion. Looks like Chicken-wuss here’s the only one about to start crying.”
“Looks like he was right about you, too,” Rinoa says, folding her arms, her tone no longer playful. “Can’t you stop teasing him for a second? You heard what Quistis said; you’re putting both of you in danger.”
Seifer frowns, opens his mouth to retort, but Rinoa cuts him off, her eyes widening suddenly. “Wait, did you say strange dreams?”
Squall nods.
“There was that time you passed out,” she says to Seifer. “Right?” She turns back to the group to explain. “We were running away from a Grendel and he just fell. I freaked out. Had to figure out Float really fast so I could drag him out of there.”
“I dreamt I was someone else,” Seifer mutters, looking angry and embarrassed. He won’t meet their eyes. “Some Galbadian soldier called Ward or something. But why the hell does it matter?”
“Oh!” Selphie exclaims. “Didn’t you think Sir Laguna was cute?”
Seifer frowns. “Uh, no,” he says, and then, “Wait, what?”
“Huh?” Rinoa asks.
Seifer gives her a sharp look. “You told her about it?”
“I’m seriously lost here,” Rinoa says. “Who’s Sir Laguna?”
“He was in my dream,” Seifer says. “How does she know that?”
“You could just ask me, y’know,” Selphie points out.
“Well, I didn’t say anything,” Rinoa says. “You never even told me what the guys were called.”
“Then how-”
“I think you may have had the same dream,” Quistis cuts in.
Seifer stares.
“Not just you and me,” Selphie says. “Squall as well. Isn’t that cool?”
-
Winhill is some distance inland. It’d actually have been faster to approach it from the western coast, but there’s no port over there; not surprising, as there’s nothing else on the Galbadian west coast but prisons and high-security military institutions, and Squall doesn’t think they really go in for sightseeing. There’s a small car rental at the port, though, so in theory they should be able to reach Winhill easily enough.
In theory.
Rinoa storms out of the rental shop. “He won’t give us a car!”
Next to Squall, Zell looks up, startled. “Huh?”
The door opens again behind her, considerably less violently.
“He saw my brand,” Selphie explains, coming out. Quistis, who was holding the door for her, follows.
“And he asked whether we were all l’Cie,” Rinoa says.
Seifer raises his eyebrows. “And you told him?”
“I told him the truth,” Quistis admits. “It didn’t occur to me that he might deny us service.”
“He says he doesn’t rent to l’Cie,” Rinoa says. “He says we could turn crystal or Cie’th and he won’t get the car back. Can you believe that?”
“So we can go in and rent one,” Zell says, putting a hand on Squall’s shoulder and gesturing at Seifer with the other. “He doesn’t know we’re l’Cie, right?”
Quistis glances back through the rental window. “Unfortunately, he’s watching us talk to you. I’m not sure that will work.”
“Right,” Seifer says, striding towards the door. “I’ll get us a car.”
“Uh,” Zell says, “what are you gonna...”
But Seifer’s already disappeared into the rental.
Rinoa exchanges a quick look with Quistis, then follows him in.
-
“Okay,” Rinoa says, emerging from the rental some time later. She seems to be trying very hard not to smile. “Now he says he’s not gonna give us a car even if we miraculously stop being l’Cie.”
Seifer stalks past her and keeps going, ignoring the rest of them, in the direction of Winhill.
-
The boat left fairly late in the day and it was already late evening by the time it pulled in, so they’re not going to reach Winhill before tomorrow. Squall, Selphie, Quistis and Zell are each carrying a lightweight sleeping bag, bundled up and strapped on as a backpack; Quistis pointed out before they left Timber that they’d probably be sleeping in the open at some point. Seifer and Rinoa, on the other hand...
“I didn’t realise we’d be joining you again,” Quistis says, apologetically.
Squall shrugs his sleeping bag from his shoulders. The days have been getting colder, but it’s still warm enough. “I don’t need this.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Instructor,” Seifer says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t need one either.”
“Well, I’m not gonna turn it down, if you’re sure,” Rinoa says. Squall tosses the sleeping bag in her direction; she catches it. “Thanks, Squall.”
-
It’s not the first time Squall’s spent the night on grass, but it still takes him a while to get to sleep. He can’t stop thinking.
Why did they all have the same dream? He’d thought maybe they’d been hit by a spell or something, but Seifer had it as well, and he wasn’t anywhere near Selphie or Squall. Maybe it is to do with their Focus; he can’t think of anything else they all have in common, beyond being former SeeD candidates. He’s not sure why only half of them would have seen it, though, if it was supposed to be a vision from the fal’Cie. And what could it be telling them to do: fight Funguars? Seduce pianists?
They’ll be at Winhill tomorrow. They can focus on that for now.
-
“Hey, Squall.”
A nudge in his side, and Squall’s rolled into a fighting crouch before he’s even registered what woke him.
“Seifer,” he says.
Seifer jerks his head towards the closest of the mountains. There’s a long swathe of scarred land at its base, Squall sees as he stands: bare, rocky earth, probably offering a stronger foothold than the grass around them, probably out of the others’ earshot. “Bring your weapon.”
Squall doesn’t have to ask why; he just picks up Revolver and follows.
-
It’s only now, fighting an opponent so familiar Squall can move without thinking, that he realises how much becoming l’Cie has changed them. There’s no GF behind their actions, but they both move faster, strike harder, endure more pain. He understands, now, how Seifer and Rinoa crossed those mountains so quickly; he understands how Seifer can be sparring instead of sleeping right now, so soon after that journey.
It feels good to be sparring again. It’s a distraction, if nothing else.
Squall is the one who eventually calls it off. They no longer know their limits, which means they have to be cautious. He feels like he could keep fighting until sunrise, but he can’t be certain that he wouldn’t be doing himself or Seifer permanent injury if he did.
Seifer laughs. “Whatever makes you feel better about losing.”
Squall doesn’t respond to that; he just sits down on a slab of rock and closes his eyes. Concentrating hard, he draws up the warmth of Cure from somewhere in his chest. Using magic as a l’Cie isn’t exactly the same as using paramagic, but it’s easier with the spells he cast often before the fal’Cie incident; it’s as if all his casts of drawn Cures have worn a channel that the real magic can flow along. He has no idea where he’d even begin if he wanted to cast Haste, or Triple, or any of the other useful spells he’s never drawn before.
But Rinoa cast Cure by accident, he remembers, just after she became a l’Cie. And she said she worked out how to cast Float in the mountains. He’s not sure whether she has any experience of paramagic.
Certain people have a natural aptitude for true magic, it’s theorised; some become Sorceresses, some become powerful l’Cie. Is that why the fal’Cie chose her? She was the first of them to be given a Focus, after all.
The green light flickering over his eyelids fades, and he opens them. Seifer is cleaning Hyperion. There’s a bruise already coming up over his cheekbone.
Squall touches the same spot on his own cheek, to indicate it. Seifer catches the movement and gives him a hard stare.
“You’re bruised,” Squall says.
“Yeah, well done, you got a hit in,” Seifer says. “You’re still worse off.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Squall says. “You should heal it. If it gets worse, it could impair your vision.”
“Pretty sure you couldn’t do any real damage if your gunblade was on fucking fire, but thanks for the concern. I’ll get something for it in Winhill if I have to.”
Squall frowns. “We’re l’Cie. We don’t have to worry about conserving magic resources any more. Just use Cure.”
Seifer walks away without answering, back towards the still-sleeping group.
It doesn’t occur to Squall until the next morning that he might not know how to cast it.
-
“So, uh,” Zell says, “are we sure we’re gonna find our Focus here?”
Winhill doesn’t seem like a big place, but how are they going to know their Focus, even if they see it? Are they just supposed to walk into the square from their vision and have a sudden epiphany? “It’s best not to get your hopes up.”
“Do you really have to be so gloomy?” Rinoa asks, with a laugh. “I think it’s fun to get your hopes up sometimes. We all saw Winhill in our vision, so I’m pretty sure we’re in the right place. If the fal’Cie wants us to do something, it’s gonna try and help us find out what it is, right?”
Something about Rinoa bothers him. It’s not the same as Selphie, who Squall has already given up any hope of comprehending; Rinoa seems rational enough. But she also seems cheerful most of the time, teasing everyone, smiling and laughing as if they’re only travelling together to see the world. Has she even realised that she’s dying?
“Yeah,” Zell says, “but... I don’t know, a town square? What are we meant to get from that?”
Rinoa shrugs. “Maybe we’ll know when we see it.”
“It doesn’t really matter if we don’t find our Focus, anyway,” Squall says. “The outcome will be more or less the same.”
For a moment, no one says anything.
“Uh,” Selphie says, “was that you... trying to be comforting?”
Selphie thinks he’s strange? That doesn’t feel great. “I don’t like it, but we’re l’Cie. There are only two ways this can end.”
“And you think they’re the same?” Rinoa asks, her tone incredulous. “If you turn into a Cie’th, you might kill people. Are you telling me you’d be okay with that?”
She... actually has a point. Of course, when Squall is a Cie’th, he won’t care, but from a wider perspective it would be better for them to complete their Focus.
But there’s an alternative.
“If any of you are still human when I turn into a Cie’th,” he says, “you should kill me.”
Rinoa sighs. “That really wasn’t the conclusion you were meant to come to.”
“I could kill you right now,” Seifer suggests. “Save us all some trouble later on.”
Squall meets Seifer’s eyes. If he’d really be willing, when the time comes... “I’m serious.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Seifer says after a moment, looking away. “You can get someone else to do your dirty work.”
“Well,” Quistis says, with a small smile, “I think you’ve just found a reason to complete your Focus, Squall. I don’t think any of us want to have to kill you, and I don’t think you’d enjoy killing us either.”
He’s been trying not to think about that possibility. If the others become Cie’th before him, maybe it’d be easiest just to let them take him down.
Rinoa nods firmly. “She’s right, y’know. And, hey, what if there’s a way to become uncrystallised? If we’re Cie’th, people will attack us. If we’re crystals, they might try to find a way to bring us back.”
If there were a way to come back, Squall thinks, someone would have found it by now. What he says is, “Do you know where this square is?”
Rinoa shoots him a look, but at least she stops talking about it. “Yeah, it’s just through here.”
-
She leads them into the square.
She’s right; it is the place from their vision. The same old-fashioned little houses; the same flower design on the cobblestones. It’s quiet and the air is cool and Ellone is suspended above a plinth in the centre, frozen in crystal.
Ellone.
Squall stops moving, staring at her.
Ellone.
She looks so young, now. He always thought of her as much older than him, but she can’t have been more than thirteen when the fal’Cie took her.
He’d forgotten. How could he have forgotten?
“Oh,” Quistis says, softly. “That’s why.”
The reason he attacked the fal’Cie, Squall thinks. The reason they’re all l’Cie now. It all comes back to this girl he couldn’t even remember.
It takes a conscious effort to start breathing again.
Chapter Six