MC Long Dark 02

He floated in an ethereal haze, balanced somewhere between reality and the dreamworld. Memories he thought long ago eaten surfaced in front of him. Seifer's snarl, the battle between them somewhere at the age of ten that ended up with Squall being tossed into the moat in the middle of the Atrium. A ritual for anyone who got on Seifer's 'list'. Eating lunch in the cafeteria with Zell around the age of twelve, which turned into a food fight between him and a bunch of kids at the other end of the table. Squall got up and walked away from that one tersely. Quistis' classroom, and his seat way at the back. She made him sit up front one day, only to change her mind by the end of class. He stared at her angrily the whole time.

A flash of light, the memories shift and Zell's scream rips across the canyons of Squall's mind. He reaches out to the martial artist, but it's too late. With a horror that slows to a crawl, time subjects him to witness Zell's death in agonizing helplessness. Too far away, he's too far away. Why can't he cast a spell? He can't even scream. His mouth hangs open, but no sound pours forth. Zell slumps to the ground, eyes glassy, staring at the skies as if begging for a mercy they could not give.

Someone shoved Squall to the side, knocking him to the ground. The gunblade fumbled from weakened fingers, but he grabbed for the handle again and whirled around, only to see Irvine slumped on the ground, heaving for breath where Squall stood just moments before. He rushed to the gunman's side, realizing quickly the gravity of the situation. His entire chest torn open, Squall could even see the whites of his ribs. There wasn't much time. He couldn't even say good-bye, helpless as he was with Zell. All he could do was hold him, and let him die.

And then she appeared. Cold and beautiful as a star in the night sky. He wanted to shout at her, why! Why was she doing this! He loved her. Even if all the world turned against her, he pledged to himself that he would be her knight. What happened to the warmth she exuded? Where was the girl who'd stolen his heart? Had a year changed her so drastically? She reached for him and she was smiling. Her mouth moved and his memory distorted her voice.

Yeah, just like old times, Zell. Only the last time, I didn't watch you die. What's your fiancee going to say when I have to tell her I couldn't help you, I couldn't save you, I had to let you go. Zell, spiky haired, cry baby Zell. Loud and energetic and boisterous. And now you're a memory. I wish we never asked you to go with us on this journey. I wish I said no to Irvine. I wish...

Irvine, Selphie is going to kill me. You tried, you did all of this for me, and look where it got you. Is this worth the price of fitting in with the rest of us? You had a wife and a son -- a son, oh Hyne, I've half orphaned another kid. Selphie I'm so sorry, I couldn't save him either. I held him only to watch the light die in his eyes. I hope you can forgive me, if I survive this.

The voice brought him out of the haze, hurling him like a catapulted stone into the glare of lights overhead. He blinked stormy gray eyes repeatedly, wondering why he couldn't sit up like he wanted to. A headache pounded in his temple, each heartbeat making it throb dully against his temples. The scent of sterile linens and anti-bacterial cleaner and a woman's perfume filled his nostrils. He turned his head to the side, blurry vision slowly clearing until he realized he was staring at Ellone. She smiled at him, though it was both relieved and concerned, and reached out to brush unruly hair from his forehead. Dark circles ringed the area under her eyes. Had she sat by his bedside all this time? How much time was that?

"Sis? How did I get here?" he asked, at least he had his voice again. Her mere presence comforted him, let him relax in way he simply couldn't with anyone else. Was he in Esthar? It was a hospital at least, the machinery hummed and blipped softly around him and he was attached to several of them via the crook of his arm or one of his wrists. An oxygen tube rested against his upper lip. How badly injured am I? I can't even tell. I can hardly feel anything.

"We found you on the plains outside the city, you're in Esthar. It's been two weeks since then. We weren't sure if you were going to ever wake up," Ellone explained and her eyes both threatened to spill crystalline tears. She couldn't take her hand away from his face, fingers brushing against his cheek.

Two weeks? He had been unconscious for two weeks? Struggling to sit up, Squall found that his limbs simply wouldn't obey him, resulting in some odd squirm and Ellone's insistent hand on his chest as she shook her head. He stopped and whimpered, feeling very much like the lost little boy Sis left behind at the orphanage all those years ago. He didn't have time to be stuck in a hospital, no time for recovery from grievous wounds. Irvine and Zell were dead. And he had to somehow avenge them.

"Squall... please don't, you've broken several vertebrae in your back. Regenerative efforts are underway, but you need to lie still. It's going to be a long road to recovery," Ellone said, only removing her hand from his chest when he ceased his struggles to move. He was lucky to be alive, yet someone left a Regen spell cast on him, and that alone enabled him to survive until someone discovered him. He settled down without arguing, surprising for a man as stubborn as Squall Leonhart was. Something haunted his eyes, however, and she knew then that she didn't want to look into his recent past. Always broody, she'd never seen such pain before. But, for others, she had to ask.

"What happened to Irvine and Zell? We've searched for them too but..." she trailed off as Squall visibly winced. Oh, everyone already braced themselves for the news, but there was always the glimmer of hope. Her hands touched her mouth, a gesture of denial as he confirmed her worst fears.

Quistis and Selphie waited in Laguna's office, everyone cooing over the infant in Selphie's lap rather than concentrating on Squall's condition. Kiros and Ward teased Esthar's president mercilessly, bringing a bit of mirth to the group, even if it hung abjectly off the hangnail of their thoughts. Squall was badly injured, and neither Zell or Irvine found anywhere near him, though the cowboy's shotgun had been recovered nearby. They held onto the dim glimmer of hope that the two were being held prisoner, that Squall was thought too far gone to hold too and left behind. With Balamb's Commander unconscious for two weeks, however, all anyone could do was wait.

Ellone entered solemnly. Her news was grave, and as much as she wanted somehow to smile, she couldn't. All she could do was watch Selphie, then the baby she cradled in her arms. It was to Trabia's Headmistress that she went first, leaning over and quietly asking to hold the baby. Selphie's brows furrowed, confused by the expression on Ellone's face, but she'd let everyone hold him, and lifted Vaniel up enough for the older woman to take him into her arms. The room fell into silence, even Kiros and Ward sensed that something was amiss. Ellone's reasons for wanting to hold Vaniel were numerous. He had his father's eyes, with their soft blue color even, and a smattering of light colored hair that might someday darken a bit to match Selphie's. She imagined he'd be a lady-killer someday, just like his father had been. She also didn't want Selphie holding the child when she gave her the news.

"Squall's awake," she announced to the room. Everyone should have cheered. There should have been looks of relief and a lifting of the tension that squeezed them all. She only felt it tighten, all eyes furtively darting toward Selphie. Ellone felt hot tears fall down her cheeks, unable to hold them back any longer. "I'm sorry, Selphie. Squall says that..." she trailed off, unable to even finish. Quistis leaned in immediately as she saw the look on Selphie's face, a moment to digest the news before the dam broke and she allowed herself to be cradled against the other's shoulder, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.

Even as Trabia's Headmistress cried against her, Quistis sat up slightly, her eyes misted but her stance as regal and calm as always. Ellone realized with sadness that the instructor was attempting to remain the strong one for now, to break down at a later time. "And Zell?"

A strong hand fell on Ellone's shoulder and she glanced up to see her Uncle Laguna there, his gaze concerned, sad, but supportive. He took Vaniel from her then, letting her go to Quistis and Selphie, and join them in their collective grief.

A memorial was eventually held for Irvine and Zell. Squall insisted on being there to give a speech, even if it had to be in a wheelchair. He could walk, barely, but the doctors in Esthar still told him it might take years before he regained full mobility, if ever. They repaired his spine, medical advances combined with paramagicks. If not for the research done by Dr. Odine, Squall would never walk again at all. The Quad filled with Cadets and SeeDs alike, everyone solemn, the hollow ringing of boots and shoes against the floor far louder than any voices. Zell and Irvine were heroes in many eyes, two who fought to defeat Ultimecia, to save the world from her machinations. Like the others, many immortalized them, and their deaths affected the morale in Garden. Squall hoped to somehow regain some of the lost morale, and keep everyone from making rosy memories of them at the same time. He hated the idea of turning either of them into martyrs.

On the stage, Squall sat between Quistis and Ellone. Selphie sat on Quistis' other side, holding Vaniel on her lap. Dressed in mourning black, she looked out of place. Sunny hues fit her better, but since Irvine's death, she stuck to somber colors or ran around in his clothing. Part of the grieving process for her, and no one blamed her. Squall still felt awkward talking with her. She tried to convince him that she didn't blame him for her husband's death, or Zell's for that matter, but try as she might, the commander couldn't shake his guilt. Always looked up to, always considered the leader, he failed them, and now they were gone.

As soon as the Garden bell tolled solemnly to bring the event to order, Squall signaled Ellone to help him wheel up to the podium. They had chosen a short one, just for Garden's Commander, considering his current condition. The faces he looked out on reflected the mood, somber, sullen, sad. Zell and Irvine would hate to know we're doing this to honor their memory. I can almost hear them protesting it now...

For effect, he paused, resting his elbows on the podium as he leaned across it like a table. People shifted in their seats, there were already numerous tears flowing, people who either knew or knew of the two comforting one another. Tissues and handkerchiefs were passed around down the rows. He frowned deeply, and decided to toss aside his prepared speech. He only hoped someone did the same for him, whenever his time came.

"Why are we doing this?" he asked. Confusion collectively rose from the aisles. Quistis and Ellone and Selphie exchanged looks, and he caught that via peripheral vision. He paused again, realizing with a nervous certainty that he was ad libing, and public speeches never were his strong point. Speaking from the heart, even less so. "Do any of you really think this is what Zell Dinct or Irvine Kinneas would really want? All of us sitting here, bringing up old memories of them and honoring them with a sad memorial, laying those memories to rest with the ghosts of the halls here? I don't think so."

Shock filled the Quad, Squall Leonhart, the cold and taciturn Commander of Balamb Garden, was refusing to be terse, just this once. His words were working, though, he could see it in the crowd. Teary eyes dried, murmurs rose through the rows, people were nodding in agreement. He continued, grabbing whatever thought first entered his head. This was maddeningly nerve wracking, and after this, he expected all of them to leave him alone about speaking his mind from now on.

"Zell and Irvine grew up in an orphanage, they came to Garden with a dream, they saw those dreams fulfilled. They lived and died by their ideals. These were all the boring and trite things I planned to say. Now, I'm not going to bother. Quite frankly, we should be celebrating their lives rather than mourning their deaths. Let's face it, neither of them were perfect either. How many of you were totally irritated by Zell's mouth at times? Or make him just sit down and not fidget for two seconds? And Irvine, I'm not sure I should even go there. I wanted to slug him every time he gave me that irritating smirk. I'd give anything to see that smirk, or hear that boisterous voice again, but I won't. Why should we forget these quirks, though? Remember the real Zell and the real Irvine, people, don't immortalize them behind rosy glass casings. I think that's what they would want the most."

Silence greeted him at the end of his monologue. Suddenly he wondered if he'd been right to speak so frankly about the two. Then someone began to clap in the sea of faces, followed by another, and then still others. Soon the entire room erupted in applause and people began to stand up. Squall inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, it worked. Now he'd need the afternoon to recover, and prayed no one would ask him to ever do this again. Ellone squeezed his shoulder and he glanced up at her to see the tears glistening in her eyes. These were not tears of sadness, he realized, nor even tears shed for the two being honored. She was proud of him. Of him.

"Thank you, Squall," Selphie said, now standing at Squall's side. Quistis stood beside Ellone, the trio surrounding the Commander around the podium, not allowing him to escape just yet. Selphie even went so far as to set Vaniel in his lap and he awkwardly held the infant, frowning tersely at his mother. Babies weren't his strong point either. She was due to give the next speech however, as Trabia transfers were also in the crowd, and they wanted to hear from their former Headmistress on their late Commander. Applause began to die as Ellone moved the wheelchair, containing Squall and infant, back to the seated area atop the stage, everyone waiting to hear from Selphie now.

A sliver of light penetrated the aisle that divided the Quad into two areas of seating. Slowly it opened outward into a tall oval, at least nine feet in height. The light danced and swirled with eddies of blue and gold, shimmering so brightly that those sitting nearby threw up their hands to shield their eyes, or were forced to look away all together. Murmurs rose through the crowd, many standing to get a better look at the spectacle. Squall felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise, wishing he were not bound to the wheelchair. He didn't even have his gunblade with him. The infant in his arms cooed suddenly, cornflower blue eyes gazing out at the crowd as if somehow he too knew what was going on, though that was clearly impossible.

When Zell Dincht emerged from the ethereal portal, everyone gasped. A second later, Irvine Kinneas followed him, shotgun in hand. Neither of them smiled, or bore any expression on their faces. Selphie gaped as her husband and the martial artist walked down the small aisle toward the stage, splitting up to walk onto the stage by the steps on either side. Everyone in the Quad stared in stunned, rapt fascination. Squall watched them warily, hardly understanding what was going on. Vaniel began to fuss and Ellone instinctively reached for him, taking him into her arms as she backed away at the insistence of the White SeeDs who acted as her personal guard. Irvine paused right by Squall, shotgun leveled at him.

"Rumors of our deaths are greatly exaggerated," he said, though his voice remained terribly deadpan, and no familiar smirk crossed his lips. Zell drew Selphie away from the podium, an easy feat as the Headmistress was too stunned to pull away from him. She craned her neck to look at Irvine, whispering his name in disbelief. All attention returned to the portal as a new figure emerged.

A Sorceress, anyone could tell by the elaborations made to her body. Dressed in light blue, her silken gown drifted well past her ankles, the tail following her, obedient to her graceful movements. Dark eyes regarded the crowd with a distant arrogance, like a star shedding cold light upon the night sky. Cut in a brazen manner, the collar dipped low, nearly down to her navel and the sleeves bore wisps of translucent fabric that drifted around her in an unfelt breeze. Angel wings jutted out from her back, though they dipped low toward the ground, the tips stained black as tar. Everyone on the stage, save for Zell and Irvine, gaped as they recognized her.


	Chapter 1: Chance He was standing all alone Trying to find the words to say When every prayer he ever prayed was gone And the dreams he's never owned Are still safely tucked away Until tomorrow he just carries on Carries on... He floated in an ethereal haze, balanced somewhere between reality and the dreamworld. Memories he thought long ago eaten surfaced in front of him. Seifer's snarl, the battle between them somewhere at the age of ten that ended up with Squall being tossed into the moat in the middle of the Atrium. A ritual for anyone who got on Seifer's 'list'. Eating lunch in the cafeteria with Zell around the age of twelve, which turned into a food fight between him and a bunch of kids at the other end of the table. Squall got up and walked away from that one tersely. Quistis' classroom, and his seat way at the back. She made him sit up front one day, only to change her mind by the end of class. He stared at her angrily the whole time. Where am I? Why am I remembering these things? A flash of light, the memories shift and Zell's scream rips across the canyons of Squall's mind. He reaches out to the martial artist, but it's too late. With a horror that slows to a crawl, time subjects him to witness Zell's death in agonizing helplessness. Too far away, he's too far away. Why can't he cast a spell? He can't even scream. His mouth hangs open, but no sound pours forth. Zell slumps to the ground, eyes glassy, staring at the skies as if begging for a mercy they could not give. Zell! She... she killed you. No, please, please stop. Don't make me see this again. Someone shoved Squall to the side, knocking him to the ground. The gunblade fumbled from weakened fingers, but he grabbed for the handle again and whirled around, only to see Irvine slumped on the ground, heaving for breath where Squall stood just moments before. He rushed to the gunman's side, realizing quickly the gravity of the situation. His entire chest torn open, Squall could even see the whites of his ribs. There wasn't much time. He couldn't even say good-bye, helpless as he was with Zell. All he could do was hold him, and let him die. Stop it! Oh Hyne, please stop it and just let me die! And then she appeared. Cold and beautiful as a star in the night sky. He wanted to shout at her, why! Why was she doing this! He loved her. Even if all the world turned against her, he pledged to himself that he would be her knight. What happened to the warmth she exuded? Where was the girl who'd stolen his heart? Had a year changed her so drastically? She reached for him and she was smiling. Her mouth moved and his memory distorted her voice. I wanted to hear your voice. But it wasn't the same. You've changed, you're not Rinoa anymore. What happened to you? "Yeah! It'll be just like old times, right Squall?" Yeah, just like old times, Zell. Only the last time, I didn't watch you die. What's your fiancee going to say when I have to tell her I couldn't help you, I couldn't save you, I had to let you go. Zell, spiky haired, cry baby Zell. Loud and energetic and boisterous. And now you're a memory. I wish we never asked you to go with us on this journey. I wish I said no to Irvine. I wish... "Hey, Squall, come on before the train leaves!" Irvine, Selphie is going to kill me. You tried, you did all of this for me, and look where it got you. Is this worth the price of fitting in with the rest of us? You had a wife and a son -- a son, oh Hyne, I've half orphaned another kid. Selphie I'm so sorry, I couldn't save him either. I held him only to watch the light die in his eyes. I hope you can forgive me, if I survive this. "It's not time yet, for you. You'll come back to me soon." You bitch... "You bitch!" "Squall?" The voice brought him out of the haze, hurling him like a catapulted stone into the glare of lights overhead. He blinked stormy gray eyes repeatedly, wondering why he couldn't sit up like he wanted to. A headache pounded in his temple, each heartbeat making it throb dully against his temples. The scent of sterile linens and anti-bacterial cleaner and a woman's perfume filled his nostrils. He turned his head to the side, blurry vision slowly clearing until he realized he was staring at Ellone. She smiled at him, though it was both relieved and concerned, and reached out to brush unruly hair from his forehead. Dark circles ringed the area under her eyes. Had she sat by his bedside all this time? How much time was that? "You had us all scared to death, Squall." "Sis? How did I get here?" he asked, at least he had his voice again. Her mere presence comforted him, let him relax in way he simply couldn't with anyone else. Was he in Esthar? It was a hospital at least, the machinery hummed and blipped softly around him and he was attached to several of them via the crook of his arm or one of his wrists. An oxygen tube rested against his upper lip. How badly injured am I? I can't even tell. I can hardly feel anything. "We found you on the plains outside the city, you're in Esthar. It's been two weeks since then. We weren't sure if you were going to ever wake up," Ellone explained and her eyes both threatened to spill crystalline tears. She couldn't take her hand away from his face, fingers brushing against his cheek. Two weeks? He had been unconscious for two weeks? Struggling to sit up, Squall found that his limbs simply wouldn't obey him, resulting in some odd squirm and Ellone's insistent hand on his chest as she shook her head. He stopped and whimpered, feeling very much like the lost little boy Sis left behind at the orphanage all those years ago. He didn't have time to be stuck in a hospital, no time for recovery from grievous wounds. Irvine and Zell were dead. And he had to somehow avenge them. "Squall... please don't, you've broken several vertebrae in your back. Regenerative efforts are underway, but you need to lie still. It's going to be a long road to recovery," Ellone said, only removing her hand from his chest when he ceased his struggles to move. He was lucky to be alive, yet someone left a Regen spell cast on him, and that alone enabled him to survive until someone discovered him. He settled down without arguing, surprising for a man as stubborn as Squall Leonhart was. Something haunted his eyes, however, and she knew then that she didn't want to look into his recent past. Always broody, she'd never seen such pain before. But, for others, she had to ask. "What happened to Irvine and Zell? We've searched for them too but..." she trailed off as Squall visibly winced. Oh, everyone already braced themselves for the news, but there was always the glimmer of hope. Her hands touched her mouth, a gesture of denial as he confirmed her worst fears. ***************************** Quistis and Selphie waited in Laguna's office, everyone cooing over the infant in Selphie's lap rather than concentrating on Squall's condition. Kiros and Ward teased Esthar's president mercilessly, bringing a bit of mirth to the group, even if it hung abjectly off the hangnail of their thoughts. Squall was badly injured, and neither Zell or Irvine found anywhere near him, though the cowboy's shotgun had been recovered nearby. They held onto the dim glimmer of hope that the two were being held prisoner, that Squall was thought too far gone to hold too and left behind. With Balamb's Commander unconscious for two weeks, however, all anyone could do was wait. Ellone entered solemnly. Her news was grave, and as much as she wanted somehow to smile, she couldn't. All she could do was watch Selphie, then the baby she cradled in her arms. It was to Trabia's Headmistress that she went first, leaning over and quietly asking to hold the baby. Selphie's brows furrowed, confused by the expression on Ellone's face, but she'd let everyone hold him, and lifted Vaniel up enough for the older woman to take him into her arms. The room fell into silence, even Kiros and Ward sensed that something was amiss. Ellone's reasons for wanting to hold Vaniel were numerous. He had his father's eyes, with their soft blue color even, and a smattering of light colored hair that might someday darken a bit to match Selphie's. She imagined he'd be a lady-killer someday, just like his father had been. She also didn't want Selphie holding the child when she gave her the news. "Squall's awake," she announced to the room. Everyone should have cheered. There should have been looks of relief and a lifting of the tension that squeezed them all. She only felt it tighten, all eyes furtively darting toward Selphie. Ellone felt hot tears fall down her cheeks, unable to hold them back any longer. "I'm sorry, Selphie. Squall says that..." she trailed off, unable to even finish. Quistis leaned in immediately as she saw the look on Selphie's face, a moment to digest the news before the dam broke and she allowed herself to be cradled against the other's shoulder, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. Even as Trabia's Headmistress cried against her, Quistis sat up slightly, her eyes misted but her stance as regal and calm as always. Ellone realized with sadness that the instructor was attempting to remain the strong one for now, to break down at a later time. "And Zell?" A strong hand fell on Ellone's shoulder and she glanced up to see her Uncle Laguna there, his gaze concerned, sad, but supportive. He took Vaniel from her then, letting her go to Quistis and Selphie, and join them in their collective grief. Chapter 2: One Child** One child stood before the altar One child stood out in the rain One child spent his time imagining And I don't believe he's coming home again, home again, home a... Four Months Later A memorial was eventually held for Irvine and Zell. Squall insisted on being there to give a speech, even if it had to be in a wheelchair. He could walk, barely, but the doctors in Esthar still told him it might take years before he regained full mobility, if ever. They repaired his spine, medical advances combined with paramagicks. If not for the research done by Dr. Odine, Squall would never walk again at all. The Quad filled with Cadets and SeeDs alike, everyone solemn, the hollow ringing of boots and shoes against the floor far louder than any voices. Zell and Irvine were heroes in many eyes, two who fought to defeat Ultimecia, to save the world from her machinations. Like the others, many immortalized them, and their deaths affected the morale in Garden. Squall hoped to somehow regain some of the lost morale, and keep everyone from making rosy memories of them at the same time. He hated the idea of turning either of them into martyrs. On the stage, Squall sat between Quistis and Ellone. Selphie sat on Quistis' other side, holding Vaniel on her lap. Dressed in mourning black, she looked out of place. Sunny hues fit her better, but since Irvine's death, she stuck to somber colors or ran around in his clothing. Part of the grieving process for her, and no one blamed her. Squall still felt awkward talking with her. She tried to convince him that she didn't blame him for her husband's death, or Zell's for that matter, but try as she might, the commander couldn't shake his guilt. Always looked up to, always considered the leader, he failed them, and now they were gone. As soon as the Garden bell tolled solemnly to bring the event to order, Squall signaled Ellone to help him wheel up to the podium. They had chosen a short one, just for Garden's Commander, considering his current condition. The faces he looked out on reflected the mood, somber, sullen, sad. Zell and Irvine would hate to know we're doing this to honor their memory. I can almost hear them protesting it now... For effect, he paused, resting his elbows on the podium as he leaned across it like a table. People shifted in their seats, there were already numerous tears flowing, people who either knew or knew of the two comforting one another. Tissues and handkerchiefs were passed around down the rows. He frowned deeply, and decided to toss aside his prepared speech. He only hoped someone did the same for him, whenever his time came. "Why are we doing this?" he asked. Confusion collectively rose from the aisles. Quistis and Ellone and Selphie exchanged looks, and he caught that via peripheral vision. He paused again, realizing with a nervous certainty that he was ad libing, and public speeches never were his strong point. Speaking from the heart, even less so. "Do any of you really think this is what Zell Dinct or Irvine Kinneas would really want? All of us sitting here, bringing up old memories of them and honoring them with a sad memorial, laying those memories to rest with the ghosts of the halls here? I don't think so." Shock filled the Quad, Squall Leonhart, the cold and taciturn Commander of Balamb Garden, was refusing to be terse, just this once. His words were working, though, he could see it in the crowd. Teary eyes dried, murmurs rose through the rows, people were nodding in agreement. He continued, grabbing whatever thought first entered his head. This was maddeningly nerve wracking, and after this, he expected all of them to leave him alone about speaking his mind from now on. "Zell and Irvine grew up in an orphanage, they came to Garden with a dream, they saw those dreams fulfilled. They lived and died by their ideals. These were all the boring and trite things I planned to say. Now, I'm not going to bother. Quite frankly, we should be celebrating their lives rather than mourning their deaths. Let's face it, neither of them were perfect either. How many of you were totally irritated by Zell's mouth at times? Or make him just sit down and not fidget for two seconds? And Irvine, I'm not sure I should even go there. I wanted to slug him every time he gave me that irritating smirk. I'd give anything to see that smirk, or hear that boisterous voice again, but I won't. Why should we forget these quirks, though? Remember the real Zell and the real Irvine, people, don't immortalize them behind rosy glass casings. I think that's what they would want the most." Silence greeted him at the end of his monologue. Suddenly he wondered if he'd been right to speak so frankly about the two. Then someone began to clap in the sea of faces, followed by another, and then still others. Soon the entire room erupted in applause and people began to stand up. Squall inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, it worked. Now he'd need the afternoon to recover, and prayed no one would ask him to ever do this again. Ellone squeezed his shoulder and he glanced up at her to see the tears glistening in her eyes. These were not tears of sadness, he realized, nor even tears shed for the two being honored. She was proud of him. Of him. "Thank you, Squall," Selphie said, now standing at Squall's side. Quistis stood beside Ellone, the trio surrounding the Commander around the podium, not allowing him to escape just yet. Selphie even went so far as to set Vaniel in his lap and he awkwardly held the infant, frowning tersely at his mother. Babies weren't his strong point either. She was due to give the next speech however, as Trabia transfers were also in the crowd, and they wanted to hear from their former Headmistress on their late Commander. Applause began to die as Ellone moved the wheelchair, containing Squall and infant, back to the seated area atop the stage, everyone waiting to hear from Selphie now. She never got a chance to utter a word for the crowd. A sliver of light penetrated the aisle that divided the Quad into two areas of seating. Slowly it opened outward into a tall oval, at least nine feet in height. The light danced and swirled with eddies of blue and gold, shimmering so brightly that those sitting nearby threw up their hands to shield their eyes, or were forced to look away all together. Murmurs rose through the crowd, many standing to get a better look at the spectacle. Squall felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise, wishing he were not bound to the wheelchair. He didn't even have his gunblade with him. The infant in his arms cooed suddenly, cornflower blue eyes gazing out at the crowd as if somehow he too knew what was going on, though that was clearly impossible. When Zell Dincht emerged from the ethereal portal, everyone gasped. A second later, Irvine Kinneas followed him, shotgun in hand. Neither of them smiled, or bore any expression on their faces. Selphie gaped as her husband and the martial artist walked down the small aisle toward the stage, splitting up to walk onto the stage by the steps on either side. Everyone in the Quad stared in stunned, rapt fascination. Squall watched them warily, hardly understanding what was going on. Vaniel began to fuss and Ellone instinctively reached for him, taking him into her arms as she backed away at the insistence of the White SeeDs who acted as her personal guard. Irvine paused right by Squall, shotgun leveled at him. "Rumors of our deaths are greatly exaggerated," he said, though his voice remained terribly deadpan, and no familiar smirk crossed his lips. Zell drew Selphie away from the podium, an easy feat as the Headmistress was too stunned to pull away from him. She craned her neck to look at Irvine, whispering his name in disbelief. All attention returned to the portal as a new figure emerged. A Sorceress, anyone could tell by the elaborations made to her body. Dressed in light blue, her silken gown drifted well past her ankles, the tail following her, obedient to her graceful movements. Dark eyes regarded the crowd with a distant arrogance, like a star shedding cold light upon the night sky. Cut in a brazen manner, the collar dipped low, nearly down to her navel and the sleeves bore wisps of translucent fabric that drifted around her in an unfelt breeze. Angel wings jutted out from her back, though they dipped low toward the ground, the tips stained black as tar. Everyone on the stage, save for Zell and Irvine, gaped as they recognized her. "Rinoa," Quistis gasped. NExT...