MC Something Happens 01

Anyhow, now that I’ve finished up my Tess Almasy revision, I’ll be moving on to another couple I particularly like: Irvine and Selphie. And this isn’t your average Irvine/Selphie get-together fic. Believe you-me, there are some complications in this love story that have a lot to do with a certain blonde ex-instructor…. ^_^

The inspiration for this story came from a Hindi movie called Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, which, when translated, really does mean, “something happens in my heart.” It’s a GREAT movie. ^_^

Irvine sat quietly on the beach, watching as the waves tumbled across the shoreline, missing his figure by only a few feet. Everything around him suddenly seemed to come to life—the ocean, the warm sand, even the late summer air as it whispered through the trees. The sun was setting, and he relished in its brilliant glory, watching its wavering image in the surface of the ocean he had come to know so well as a boy.

He hadn’t noticed how many wondrous things about life he really cared about until a part of it had been taken from him. The tiny, almost intangible little elements of existence suddenly seemed to shape his entire being. He had always been so casual in everything he’d done.

It was different now. He had taken too much for granted. There was a difference between nature’s beauty and his wife, but at that moment, everything in the world blended into one idea and the only thing that mattered was the fact that he had loved and lived to tell.

Edea’s orphanage stood behind him, rebuilt and fit for the happiest family. In the aftermath of the funeral he found himself coming here for comfort. The stone house by the ocean always lifted his spirits, no matter what the situation. As a child, he had found happiness there and now, at twenty, he found serenity. The tossing waves of the ocean beckoned him into a utopia where everything was peaceful, a world where you never had to say goodbye to your loved ones…

He blinked as a tear fell onto the sand beneath him. The sunset blurred before his eyes and he swallowed, calmly switching his gaze to the ground where he had drawn lazy circles in the sand.

He hadn’t cried for her until now. And even then, it didn’t come pouring down. He loved her too much to cry for her. And he had promised her he wouldn’t. She didn’t want to leave the world watching her husband cry. He knew that.

The ocean waves crept on shore only to wash away again, dissolving in the endless essence of the sea. As he stared into its shimmering depths, another promise he had made with her surfaced in his mind. He only had one thought.

Dr. McCormick backed down, her face portraying sympathy for the new father. “I won’t lie to you, Irvine. She had severe internal bleeding following the birth—she KNEW there would be complications with her delivery.” She paused, sighing. “But she loved this baby more than her life.”

The doctor momentarily glanced down the hallway to his wife’s room, her eyes sad and dull. When she looked back to Irvine, she was struggling to keep her composure. “She’s not going to make it, Irvine.”

Down the hallway from them, Rinoa gently pushed open the door to her friend’s room. The blonde sat propped up in bed, her sleeping newborn daughter in her arms. She looked up at the sound of the door.

The sorceress returned the grin. “Hey. I just came to see the new mom,” she said, gaze falling over the bundle in Quistis’ arms. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is,” Quistis agreed, stroking her child’s cheek with one hand. Her eyes watered and she had to swallow a quiet sniff. “I wish I could be there to see her grow up.”

Rinoa gently took a seat on the edge of the hospital bed and exhaled unevenly. So she knew. Everyone knew at this point. As happy as they had been about the birth, there was the other side of the coin. Quistis would have to give her life to her daughter.

“You will see her,” Rinoa said, placing a hand on the older woman’s arm. “She’ll know you’ll always be watching her.”

“And I’ll be the one to tell her that,” Rinoa finished, smiling. Quistis managed to look up, blinking away the oncoming tears. “Rinoa?”

“I have something to give you.” Looking to her left, Quistis reached with her hand and pushed aside the vase of flowers on the table. A sealed white envelope lay on the gleaming surface of the stand. She handed it slowly to the brunette, her eyes never leaving it.

“I want my daughter to know who I was… to know that I loved her and her father more than anything,” Quistis said, looking down at the infant before returning to Rinoa. “In this letter, I’ve written everything I want her to know. I want you to give this to her on her eighth birthday.”

Rinoa turned the letter over in her hands. “I… I crumble under pressure,” she said, getting a small laugh out of her blond friend. When they quieted, she spoke again, this time with solemnity. “I will.”

A nurse entered through the half-open door, her face acknowledging the two women. “Sorry, ladies. The baby needs to be taken back to the nursery for a blood test.”

Quistis leaned forward to comply as the nurse stepped forward. Rinoa tucked the envelope under her arm and stopped her with one hand. “I got it.”

Shrugging, the nurse turned on one heel and led the way out. Rinoa shifted the baby in her arms and smiled at Quistis. On her way out the door, she passed Irvine. He stood just outside the door, watching his daughter. Rinoa paused, looking up at him.

Irvine swallowed, staring into the blue depths of the newborn’s eyes, now that she was awake. She looked back up at him blankly, her small fist raised. Rinoa nodded back into the room before slowly following the nurse. Irvine watched his daughter disappear around the corner before taking a few tentative steps into the room.

He wasn’t used to seeing her like this—weak, hopeless, and fighting for her life. In all the years he had known her, all the days spent together first as children, then fighting partners, and now husband and wife, he never expected to see her like this. So many times she had fought the fiercest beings on the planet without so much as a scratch and this one time, something so solemn as giving birth, was the event that would take her life.

He walked the few feet needed to reach her and sat unceremoniously on the edge of her bed. Consciously, he was aware of her hand taking his in an almost painful grasp. She was strong for a Sheila.

“Irvine,” she said again, almost pleading. He didn’t look at her—he couldn’t look at her. She brought his hand up against her heart and held it tighter. “Hey, Irvine,” she said with more force. He shook his head. She swallowed and stared at his profile. “… Want to be friends?”

Quistis breathed out and absently wiped her eyes free of moisture. “… Promise me…” she paused, noticing his face. His hand in hers gave her the bit of courage needed to continue. “Promise me you’ll never cry.”

“Don’t cry, Irvy,” she said, watching the surprise in his face. She was sure in the back of his mind he had attached that phrase with someone else. He shook his head again.

Quistis slightly coughed… or was it a small sob? “Besides,” she continued, managing to smile. “You look really bad when you cry.”

Irvine couldn’t help the small “hmp” that escaped his lips as he smiled. Even in the darkest light, she managed to shine through. He had been surprised to find she had a charming sense of humor when you pushed her just right.

“Promise me something else,” Quistis said, reaching out with her free hand and resting it on his shoulder. Vaguely, she felt the tension in his form. The contact momentarily interrupted her train of thought. The only thing she wanted was to hold him… and their daughter. With a determined sigh, she shook her head and turned his cheek so that he faced her. Even then, his brown eyes were fixed on their clasped hands.

Now he looked up, meeting her eyes. She watched the shock in his face, lost herself in it. Her determination was clear in her expression and Irvine blinked, slightly shaking his head, not in answer but freeing himself of his rattled thoughts.

His composure broke. He leaned forward, gently resting his forehead against hers. “… Don’t leave me, Quistis.”

She felt his hand pull away from hers, only to feel his arm encircle her waist. She leaned into him, crying softly.

Irvine closed his eyes, still hearing every word as if she were right beside him. It wasn’t so much her death now… just her last wish. Slowly, his eyes opened and focused again on the orange sunset before him. The ocean still tossed as the wind picked up, blowing his hair into his eyes.

“Selphie…” he whispered, seeing her as he had two years ago. The endless depths of her shining emerald eyes as she went farther and farther out of his sight, the wind freeing her hair from its clipped confines—all clear as day in his mind’s eye.

Irvine stilled at the voice. A moment later, he settled down beside him in the sand and continued to watch the ocean toss. Silence had become his new friend, regardless of whether or not someone was with him.

“Yeah, I know,” Irvine answered quietly. “I don’t know, maybe because they were really good friends. It could be anything.”

The blonde beside him became quiet suddenly, leaning back on his hands. He stared at the disappearing sunset and inclined his head to the side the least bit. “… I used to like her, you know.”

“There’s something about a girl and nun chucks,” Zell followed up with a grin. Then he shrugged. “Teenage hormones. Nothing too special.”

“Nothing like you and Quistis, you know,” Zell continued, becoming serious. “We’ve all known her for so long—it’s weird to think she’s really gone.”

“But she left you something,” the blonde went on as he pushed himself to a standing position. “Selphie’s going to be great,” he assured with a small smile. With one last glance at the sky, Zell turned on one heel and slowly walked away, leaving his friend alone, yet again.

Rinoa leaned against the railing of the city bridge and watched the people criss-cross the sidewalk of Esthar’s Main Street. At this time of day, the street was crowded with businessmen and women, workers, families, and busybodies rushing to get to wherever it was they were going. Cars were zooming by beneath her, some coming a bit too close to the curb of the sidewalk and receiving snide remarks from the walking people as a result.

Turning, she watched as the seven-year-old bounded through the hordes of people. She finally slowed when she reached Rinoa’s figure, grabbing the railing to prevent her from flying right off the bridge. “S-sorry we’re so late…”

Selphie swallowed, her breaths coming in shallow heaves. “Yeah, see, those stupid people in the meeting kept talking to Dad—something about a new something or other—and we couldn’t even get out the door.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar brown head of hair on a tall, built man of maybe twenty-eight walk out from behind a group of people. In one hand, he held a bouquet of flowers. As soon as he reached the two, he held them out, smile ready.

His charm fell. “Okay, I know, I know I have terrible punctuality but--” he stopped, grabbing Rinoa’s wrist and turning her watch face toward him. “I’m only…” he squinted, “…forty-five minutes late,” he finished quietly, averting his gaze.

“Okay, I’m sorry. The people at the office just didn’t want to let me go,” he claimed, spreading his arms wide.

Smirking, Rinoa took the flowers. “Irvine, you couldn’t keep an appointment even if it meant you couldn’t flirt anymore.”

“Hey,” he said, turning to the little girl. “What are you laughing at, huh? Huh?” He picked her up easily with one arm as she squealed, laughing and claiming, “Nothing! Nothing!”

Rinoa watched them with a thoughtful smile. Had she been ten years younger her eyes would have bulged at the sight. She was older though, and she had come to know the Irvine he was today—loving father.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, bringing Rinoa out of her thoughts. “We better get going. The mall closes at six today.”

“Yeah,” Rinoa agreed, taking Selphie’s smaller hand as she climbed out of her father’s arms. The three of them had planned to go shopping for Selphie’s birthday present, of which she would get to pick. The idea was amusing, to say the least.

“Hey! She turns eight tomorrow; she’s gotta know some time,” he proclaimed, backing away from the embarrassed brunette.

Without any further comment, the three crossed the brick-paved walk and started for downtown Esthar. Selphie looked down and matched her step with Rinoa’s. It was something she liked doing—copying the big girls. What little girl could disagree with her? She looked back up as a car honked its horn and zoomed on by. Someone behind them shouted a reply.

She secretly liked city life. It was all she had ever known, though her father claimed she spent her first year in the countryside of Galbadia. Esthar was a suggested residence made by Laguna, Squall’s father and President of the well-established city. She knew that her father had a harder time finding a stable job in the big city, but he made it, nonetheless.

She had also known Rinoa all her life. The cheerful brunette was practically a sister to her, not to mention the fact that they lived across the street from each other. Squall was another person she recognized from early on, as he was always with Rinoa.

Then there was Zell, another good friend of her father’s. He lived across the ocean from her though, in an elite fighting school known as Balamb Garden, the school she was told they all had attended at one time. She more familiarly knew it as “the army,” even if the definition didn’t quite fit. She had met the blond martial artist numerous times in the past and admired his ability to joke around with any subject. He was just like her in many ways.

“Isn’t she going to be eight tomorrow?” Squall asked as soon as he stepped into the house. Rinoa filed in behind him with a sigh. The trip to the mall was tiring… then again, maybe she was just getting older.

“And I’ll give her the letter, don’t worry,” she replied with a small smile. After a moment, her expression turned serious. “I told her about it today. She wanted to read it right then.”

Rinoa stopped at the mention of her deceased mother. Squall’s hazel eyes betrayed no harsh emotion—just genuine curiosity. Smiling, she nodded. He raised a hand and set in gently on her shoulder. “Did Irvine remember?”

The brunette blinked, straightening. “You know, I don’t think so,” she said wondrously, playing the events of the day over in her head. “He didn’t say anything about it.”

“Maybe he’s just being cool about it,” Squall returned, grinning and heading into the kitchen. Shaking her head, Rinoa flopped onto the couch and stared unseeingly at the ceiling above her head. A few moments later, she heard Squall’s voice from the next room.

Her face twisted in thought. “I don’t know,” she called back. “I never got to ask Quistis before she died.”

He returned with a glass of water in his hand and leaned casually in the archway connecting the rooms. “It would have been rude anyway. It was between her and Selphie.”

Squall curiously watched her demeanor change. She sat up, bringing her feet up underneath her. “Do you ever think about where she is now?”

Rinoa smiled, her eyes glancing down, when a thought struck her. “Selphie…” she said slowly, thinking. “… She doesn’t know who she’s named after, does she?”

A few moments of silence passed as they both wandered in their own thoughts. Rinoa slowly draped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them with a slight frown. It was times like these she wished Quistis were alive and raising her daughter alongside her husband. She had so much to give the little girl and yet, Hyne worked in mysterious ways. Irvine was an excellent single parent but Rinoa saw the look in his daughter’s eyes every time someone mentioned how wonderful their own mother was. She wished she could have talked about a woman in that light.

“I’m going to go drop off the letter,” Rinoa announced suddenly, rising from the cushion. “Be back in a little bit.”

Squall merely nodded and watched as she bounded up the stairs to their bedroom. In the top drawer of her dresser, she flipped through various envelopes of junk mail and personal notes before finding Quistis’ letter, which was a bit yellowed with age, but sealed and intact. She fished it out and descended downstairs to find her soon-to-be husband calmly watching TV. She glanced at him one last time before sliding her feet into her shoes and walking out into the night.

A few moments later she reached Irvine’s front door and knocked twice with her fist, waiting patiently for the knob to turn. In a matter of seconds, the door opened and she saw his familiar face peep through.

“Hi,” she returned, coming through the doorway when he waved her in. She turned around, holding out the letter. “I just came by to drop off Quistis’ birthday present.”

Irvine blinked as his eye caught the whiteness in Rinoa’s hand. After a moment’s realization, he laughed and scratched his head. “Wow… I can’t believe I’d actually forgotten about that.”

“Has it really been eight years?” he asked quietly, almost to himself, as he took the letter and filed into the living room. Rinoa followed him, her hands clasped in front of her. “Seems like yesterday,” she agreed, nodding.

Irvine set the envelope down on the coffee table among the other presents that had been dropped off during the day. His Selphie sure was a popular girl. The boxes ranged in size from large to ring box-like and had to be moved to the floor in order to make room for more. Rinoa absently glanced up to the second floor.

“She’s sleeping already?” she asked, checking her watch. It was only nine—hardly a child’s bedtime in the summer.

Without further question, the brunette turned on one heel and ascended the stairs leading to Selphie’s bedroom. She nudged the door ajar with one hand and found the younger brunette sitting on her bed, a book in her lap. She looked up at Rinoa’s entrance.

“Really?” the girl’s face lit. In the space of a second she had sprung off the bed and was making a mad dash for the door. Rinoa intercepted her small figure and picked her up easily.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to read it until tomorrow, you hear?” she said, tapping the youngster on the nose.

All she received from the soon-to-be eight-year-old was a raised eyebrow. Gently, Rinoa set her down on her feet. “Your mother wanted you to read it when you turned eight. Now she wouldn’t be very happy if you didn’t follow her last wish, would she?”

Rinoa sympathized. Stooping down to the girl’s level, she cleared a section of brown hair from her young face. “Not that I think she’s disappointed in you.”

“No, I think she’s the proudest mom in Heaven,” she finished, earning a smile from Selphie. After a moment’s observation, she tilted her head at the girl. “Does your dad ever tell you that you have her eyes?”

“Blue eyes, but dark eyelashes even though she was blonde. She was very beautiful; that’s why your daddy married her.” Rinoa stopped, noticing the look in the child’s eyes. “Well, of course, he loved her too—that’s a given.”

Very faintly, they heard the sound of a basketball being dribbled on pavement and Rinoa’s eyes flickered to the window. Selphie followed her gaze. “Dad likes playing basketball at night. He says it’s…”

Rinoa raised an eyebrow critically. “I see,” she said gravely, looking out the window. “Come on—into bed. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

After pulling the covers over the girl, Rinoa reached over and turned out the lamp. She leaned over and pressed a light kiss on her forehead. “Sleep tight.”

She straightened from her crouch, still looking out the window. Down below was the fairly large backyard and she watched as Irvine expertly went for a lay up. Turning away, she escaped the darkness of Selphie’s room and trudged downstairs. The kitchen was a dark and empty as she walked through it, stepping around a puddle of cold moonlight on the floor. She pushed open the screen door.

He caught the orange basketball with both hands and turned to face her. “Yeah, the woman who raised me? That Edea?” he asked playfully.

“One in the same,” Rinoa answered, walking toward the brick ledge that separated them from the neighbor’s property. She hopped onto it, propping her leg up. “She called me yesterday.”

“Just catching up on old times. You know—when we all still were in Garden and young and naive,” she continued, watching him make another shot.

He briefly turned a shot her a smile. “All the ladies want to know that.” Following, he tossed the ball over his head and watched it fall through the metal rim and mesh net.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Rinoa smirked. “She wanted you to know that she didn’t forget Selphie’s birthday and the package should arrive either Thursday or Friday.”

“Okay. I’ll thank her,” he answered, shooting what would have been a three pointer had he been on a marked court.

Rinoa tilted her head. “She also wanted you to know that she went and put some flowers on Quistis’ grave--”

Rinoa almost stopped, clearly seeing the pain he still carried inside over the death of his wife. After eight years, he hid it well under his sarcastic self-praising comments and happy times with his daughter, but in the end, one just had to say her name and he became quiet. The constant thump of the basketball against the pavement echoed loudly in both their ears.

Irvine nodded, catching the ball. He then looked up to find Rinoa biting her lip. With a small smile, he continued dribbling. “What are you getting at, Rin?”

Irvine shook his head. They had been neighbors for seven years now and had been friends for ten years and counting. He could tell when she was trying to cover something. She had a lilt to her voice.

“I know you didn’t come out here just because Matron sent a few regards through you,” he said, shooting again… and missing.

Rinoa sighed, watching him retrieve the ball. Her voice dropped a few keys as she turned serious. “It’s been eight years, Irvine. I know how much you loved Quistis--”

Rinoa looked down sheepishly. “Love,” she corrected. She looked back up. “But it’s been so long. You’re a different person now. We all are.”

Irvine stopped, turned, and slowly made his way over to the brick ledge. He hopped on beside his friend and sighed, staring up at the twinkling stars. “Yes, I get what you’re saying.”

“I should move on, raise my daughter happily, and put on a smile for the world,” he continued, bringing his gaze down. “… It’s what Quistis would want me to do.”

“So you’ve heard it before. It still won’t have any impact if I say it,” Rinoa said, looking straight ahead and sighing. “… I just want you to be happy.”

Irvine blinked, looking off. Slowly, he stood and threw the basketball from hand to hand. “Rin, we live once, die once…” he sighed, holding the ball still. “And fall in love once.”

Rinoa looked down at her hands. Irvine turned around to face her with a small smile. “We don’t do these things again.”

She stood, determined to strike a cord with him. “You are fine,” she said plainly, solemnly, “but what about Selphie?”

The question hung thickly in the silence as Irvine momentarily thought of agreeing. He wasn’t blind—he knew his daughter was happy with just Dad around but there was something about a mother that a child just couldn’t not miss or wish they had. He knew the feeling firsthand but he had been fortunate enough to be under the care of Matron. His little Selphie had never called anyone ‘Mom’ in her life… and he somehow felt he was the blame for it. His pride won him over in the end. “… She’s fine…”

Slowly, dissonantly, she came to realization. Recognizing the sound of her alarm clock, her eyes flew open with a small gasp. Wildly, she reached for the snooze button with her left arm and pounded her fist on the large, rectangular key, silencing the beeps. Sighing, she noticed the numbers in glowing green.

“It’s tomorrow, Mom,” she said quietly. Smiling, she threw back her blanket and hopped out of bed and to her open bedroom door. Quickly, she dashed out into the hallway, down the stairs and dimmed on the light in the living room. Her father was a light sleeper—she had to learn how to be quiet. Determined, she made her way over to the coffee table and pushed aside various boxes and gifts from her friends. She passed by a bag… a box… some cards… some candies.

There. In purple marker, she read the number 8 scrawled on the front of an envelope, separate from every other gift on the table. Gasping, she snatched it off the table and ripped open the seal, forgetting the fact that her father might hear. At that moment, nothing else mattered. The mother she never knew had written her a letter before she had passed away! Hyne help those who tried to stand in her way now.

Sighing happily, she slid the folded sheets of paper out of the envelope and tossed the packet somewhere over her shoulder. Smiling, she began to read…