Chapter Text
Where am I?
All Squall could hear was his own breathing and the squish of his boots against the ground as he ran aimlessly forward. Only, there was no ground, and there was no forward. There was nothing. Blackness stretched out infinitely in all directions.
“Squall, let’s go home! Where are you?”
“Rinoa?” Squall stopped and called out into the void.
Had he heard that voice? Or was it in his head?
Nothing called back to him. He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest.
Something is wrong, he thought. What did Laguna say? Time, place, person I want to be with?
He closed his eyes, not that there was much difference between the empty reality and the back of his eyelids. He concentrated.
I want to be with Rinoa. Rinoa is who I want to be with.
He pictured her, waiting for him in the middle of the flower field, where they had promised.
He brought the scene to the front of his mind, but he could sense his focus wandering, the emotional gravity of the orphanage pulling in his attention. His thoughts started to drift into moments where he had felt this lonely and hopeless before. Other times, other places, other people.
“No!” he yelled to no one, trying to reign in his thinking. “I want to be with Rinoa!”
He imagined her face, her laugh, the way she moved her body. He thought of her voice, and that floral fragrance she wore, and the softness of her hair in his hand. He repeated her name, over and over, until it didn’t sound like a word anymore.
And then he heard a dog barking.
Squall opened his eyes.
He was in Timber. And he wasn’t alone.
Squall unclenched his fists and turned all the way around to get a sense of his surroundings.
The air reeked of the diesel fuel from the trains that crisscrossed the platforms. The building façades and cobblestone all had a greenish tint to them. He was standing in front of the pet shop, and there was a crush of people waiting for the train that was pulling into the station.
Why…?
It was late afternoon, if the position of the sun was giving him reliable information. And it was cool for some reason, much colder than it would normally be for late May. Small mounds of stained snow clung to the corners of the stairs and the edges of roofs.
He took inventory of himself. He had the Lion Heart. His clothes were thoroughly damaged from the fight with Ultimecia, but all his belongings had seemingly made it through Time Compression with him. He felt physically exhausted but wired with anxiety.
The battle was over, but the war wasn’t won until he was with Rinoa again.
Why am I here? Is this… real?
He looked up again, and the crowd had thinned, many of the Timber citizens piling on the train, which squealed to announce its departure.
And there she was, at the base of the stairs, bundled up and waiting for someone.
“Rinoa!”
A warm rush of relief swept through him. He didn’t wait for her to acknowledge him; he ran to her side. He’d never been so happy to see anyone in his life. He threw his arms around her, wanting to remind her, and himself, that they were alive.
“You made it,” he said gratefully.
She squirmed in his embrace.
“Get off me!” she said as though he was a Grat pulling her in with its tentacles.
The words instantly filled him with dread; parts of him partially lost to Guardian Forces heard them as an echo of other rejections.
Squall didn’t let go.
Something in the back of his mind, and of course Rinoa herself, told him he should, but he was so confused and stunned and hurt, he forgot how to move. Every part of him froze. The only range of movement he had was in his neck, and he used it to look into her face.
“Rinoa?”
“I said, get off of me!”
Rinoa put her hands against his abdomen and pushed, sending dazed Squall tumbling backward several steps. He managed to stay on his feet.
She raised her arm, and had a small spray bottle at the ready, her finger on the trigger.
“Don’t make me use this!”
Squall looked at the mace, and then Rinoa’s face. Her eyes were wide, her jaw was set. She was shaking.
She was afraid. It was as though she didn’t recognize him.
He took another step back and raised his hands to signal surrender. People from across the square were leaning in, curious about the commotion. Several Galbadian soldiers on patrol had stopped to watch.
“Rinoa, it’s me—”
“How the fuck do you know my name?! Who sent you? Caraway?!”
Her mace hand tilted forward, and Squall flinched. He squeezed his eyes shut, in case she decided to use it.
“It’s me! Squall! We were in Time Compression, remember?”
It became quiet. Squall opened his eyes a crack and saw that Rinoa had paused, giving him a confused stare.
“…Do you remember?”
“Hey, Princess, this guy bothering you?”
Squall turned around to see two men attempting to give him a threatening glare, but when he met their gaze, whatever bravado they had started to fade.
“Watts? Zone?”
The two Forest Owls looked between each other, and then back to Squall.
Whispering, Watts said, “Sir, I think he might be a mercenary.”
“So, come to take down the Forest Owls, huh?!” Zone said, beating his chest. Then, his face became stricken as he crouched and held his stomach. “Owwww…”
Squall turned back to Rinoa and could see a mild curiosity building on her face. He thought frantically, trying to figure out what would jog her memory.
She shifted and he could see the glint of her necklace.
“My ring, you have Griever—” he tried to explain.
In his severe fatigue and panic, he didn’t even think. He leaned in to touch his ring, but realized at the last second it wasn’t there.
No sooner his gloved hand grazed the chain on her collarbone, Rinoa was pressing on the top of her mace canister, dispensing the burning aerosol all over his face.
He’d been maced several times in Garden as a training procedure, but it never got any easier. He swore loudly as the capsaicin stung his eyelids and scraped at his lungs. He tried to wipe his eyes, but it only seemed to make it worse. The skin of his hands, through his gloves, was now on fire, just like his face was.
His eyes, nose and mouth streamed as he fell to his knees.
And yet, in all the pain he was in, he wondered if that look Rinoa gave him was more eviscerating.
Rinoa, Watts, Zone, the crowd and every Galbadian soldier left him to cough, his knees and palms to the cold cobblestones. The chill in the air, at least, felt soothing against his burning flesh.
When he could open his swollen eyes and take a full breath, he cast curaga on himself at least three times. The burn and tingle remained but lessened significantly.
He held his head, aching with the stress of the day—week—month—however much time passed while they were in the future—and stumbled in the direction of the hotel. He had no idea where Rinoa had disappeared to, but he needed to sit somewhere, regroup, figure out where things had gone wrong.
The sun was just starting to set as he walked into the lobby of the Timber Hotel with its quaint train-themed décor.
He passed his Garden credit card across the counter and the woman at the desk typed his reservation into a computer. She printed his room contract and asked him to sign.
It was then he read the date. March 3.
The year was the same one he’d come from, but months behind.
“Is this the right date?” Squall asked.
The woman gave him a confused look but confirmed.
I’m in the past?
It was strange. The idea gave him a modicum of ease.
Rinoa… hasn’t met me yet… But how do I get back to my time?
“Is everything okay, young man?”
Squall shook his head out of his thoughts and signed the paper. She passed him his room key.
When Squall entered the room, he disarmed and took off his outerwear and plummeted into the bed. The springs whined when he laid down on the stiff surface, but he didn’t care. This was luxury in comparison to a tent or the seats in the Ragnarok.
He looked at the popcorn ceiling of the dated room. He exhaled deeply and tried to relax, just for a moment. But in the quiet, his throbbing cheeks called to mind that scene, the look on Rinoa’s face, the way she wanted to get away from him.
Squall winced.
I’ll go to Garden in the morning, he told himself. Cid will know what’s going on… right?
Maybe I can warn him. Maybe the war doesn’t have to happen.
Wait, what would that mean? Would I still become a SeeD? Would I ever meet Rinoa?
I can’t think about that. One thing at a time. I’ll go back to Garden and take it from there.
After a shower (which would have been refreshing if it hadn’t reawakened the mace) and a fresh set of clothes, he laid back down. His busy mind could usually keep him awake through anything, but, for once, he found himself too tired to ruminate. He drifted off before his circling thoughts could catch him.