Stealth
Chapter xxxix
By YuriNigasa
*standard I don't own FFVIII, Squaresoft, characters, etc. applies from now until whenever I decide I'm done*
Stealth
Chapter xxxix
By YuriNigasa
I don't cry. Not since I was a kid who didn't know any better. So why am I laying here in the dark with tears running down my face? I hadn't expected him to do that, use his body against me. That's the cheapest blow he could have struck. It hurt. It hurt more deeply than I want to admit to him, or to myself. He wants to keep things from me? Fine. I know he doesn't tell me everything, but I know this is different. Whatever he's keeping locked away is big enough that he'd take what we have between us and cheapen it into some distractive ploy. The last place I want to be tonight is in this bed, but I'm trapped. Trapped between the wall at my back and the wall between us.
I want to curl up against him and sob out my frustrations. It's not easy being the strong one. I feel like I've always got to be on for him. I've got to make sure things stay a certain way. That whatever gets thrown at us, I stand between it and him. I guess I'm insecure about losing him. When the hell did I get terminally attached like this? All I know is that if I ever lose him... I wouldn't die, but I'd never be the same. I like being in control of things. It's the only way to make the outcome as sure as possible. I don't feel in control of anything right now. Is this what fear feels like? I've never known fear before. Dammit, I'm having a fucking conversation with myself. What's up with this? This isn't my department; this is Squall's thing. Come on, Almasy. Pull it together.
I force myself to collect my thoughts, to pull up that barrier that separates my mind from my emotions. It's not easy to remember how to construct it. It's been down for so long. But, some things you commit to memory and never forget, no matter how much time passes. For me, this was one of them. I felt my composure returning as I felt the emotional connection to the situation ebbing away, being held back by that barricade I built to separate my feelings from the rest of me.
Eerie. Settling down into that area inside that is completely devoid of emotion, I'm able to look at the situation in a clinical light. I bite back a remaining impulse to crawl over him and sleep on the floor. I stop, considering the situation for a moment. Fuck it. I sat up, not drawing the slightest response from Squall. I know he's awake. What I don't know is what's going on inside his head. At this exact moment I don't precisely care. I don't care about the situation, myself, him... any of it. I'm so detached that it barely registers when he puts a hand up against my back. I don't say anything, adopting a mode of silence I've learned to copy from watching the master. Let him make the first move, let him say the first word; let him be the first across the breach. I continue getting out of bed and make my way to the floor. His hand falls to the sheets. I feel him holding the end as I pull the blanket off the bed, but it slides through his fingers with little resistance.
"What do you want from me?" He is the first to break the silence.
I stop, and for a moment I don't know if I have the voice to answer him. I don't trust my voice. It's as if opening my mouth will break the seal I put over my emotions. I take a couple deep breaths, removing any trace of sarcasm and bitterness from my tone. In a tone of clinical detachment that echoes the one I've heard Squall use on many occasions, I say, "I want to know what's so wrong that you'd resort to using sex to avoid me?"
I hear him inhale sharply, as if I slapped him. "Is that what you think?" he responds coldly.
"That's what I know. You can spin it however you'd like to if it will make you feel better."
He is silent. "You aren't my keeper." I hear that edge slip into his tone.
"Never claimed to be. I don't want a pet, Squall."
"Then what do you want?"
"After all this time, you still need to ask me that? You think I've gone through all this for what, the sex? The prestige of fucking the Commander?" Ahh, hell. I'm losing my composure rapidly, and I hate it. "Maybe, just maybe, I know you're keeping something from me, something that's eating you from the inside out. Maybe it hurts like hell knowing that you'd rather evade the subject and lie to me than trust me with the truth."
"Maybe you just need to trust me more."
"This isn't about trust, dammit. This is about me watching you lose it and you denying anything's going wrong." I had an urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, but I knew that would just lead to further trouble.
Silence. It stretched out indefinitely, warping all sense of time. Amazing how when deprived of sound, time seems to lose meaning.
So maybe I didn't have a right to get upset, that didn't keep me from doing it. I just felt cornered, a sensation that brought panic and fear crawling in counterpoint up my spine until they were a dull haze of warning at the base of my skull. Why couldn't I just open my mouth and tell him what was wrong? Because if anything happened, it would be your fault, that tiny voice echoed in my mind. "What gives you the right to question your Commander?" I spat. I tensed, knowing the words would set him off.
"I'm not questioning my Commander, I'm asking my..." he stopped. "You know what? Forget it." His voice went dead calm. He stood up and walked to the door. I didn't say anything as he stepped out, not knowing if he'd return. I knew he couldn't very well leave, but I doubted he'd be back to our room tonight. Silently, I curled up on the bed and wept.
I resisted the urge to leave dents in the hallway. It would have taken a lot of explaining that I didn't care to do. Reaching the weapons storage locker, I went to take Hyperion out, and was stopped cold by the sight of Lionheart. I didn't need to be reminded of Squall. It wasn't as if I could ever forget him. Every time I looked in a mirror for the rest of my life I was only going to see his reflection in my own. I rubbed a hand absentmindedly across my eyes. Maybe if I killed a few things I'd feel better. Probably not, but my first instinct whenever I got upset was to go kill something.
I disarmed the outer perimeter sensors and wandered around aimlessly for a while, taking out whatever was unlucky enough to get in my path. With each successive blow I felt the tension easing from my shoulders. My mind calmed down as my base instincts took over for my higher thinking processes. It was nothing but an endless parade of walk, hack, slash, walk.
He had left a few hours ago. I knew he hadn't returned because the sensors were still unarmed. I felt sick. I felt guilty. I only wanted to take back what I had said, only wanted to erase any pain I had caused him. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, that I was stupid, and that I loved him.
"Pitiful. Sniveling over your precious Knight, Catalyst? He cannot save you. I have your bond, and you have seen my power. As the gateway weakens, my powers only grow. Not even she could stop me, and you even think you can stand in my path? Foolish."
"Who the fuck are you?" I screamed. "What the hell do you want with me?" I could make out the dim form I had seen before.
The thing laughed as if amused. "You don't remember? I'm saddened, really. Oh, that's right, you destroyed your own mind rather than deal with the memory of me. I'm not as ignorant as she is, you see. I have methods she does not."
I felt the name slip from my lips, unbidden. "Immamiel," I whispered.
"Ahh, very good, Catalyst. It is always good to remember the name of your Master. Just do not forget who wields the power when the time comes." A formless hand lifted and I felt that dull aching in my chest again, felt the seeping blood run down my chest and over my fingers, soaking the mattress. "He returns. I'll let you handle him, shall I?"
The form disappeared as the door slid open, showing Seifer's imposing shadow silhouetted against the hallway light. My heart was pounding as I saw the look of shock on his face. I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't find my voice.
"Squall!" He crossed the space between us and I felt his hand on my cheek, sliding down to my chest to pull my blood-slicked fingers away from my body. "What the hell happened?"
I stared at him, feeling scared and small.
"Why are you bleeding? Dammit, answer me. Why were you screaming? I heard you all the way down the hall."
I fell against him, clutching him to me desperately. "Please, don't ask," I pleaded with him, "I don't want to lose you and I don't want you to die."
"Damn you. I have no plans to do either, thank you very much. But you will tell me, and you will tell me now, or so help me, I will fucking walk to Esthar and force Elle to pry her way into your rock-solid head and if your bastard father even looks at me cross-eyed I'll lay him flat." He held me, fiercely, protectively. "Squall," his tone softened, that loving tone of voice that I had heard so often, and that I deserved so little. "I don't care what it is, I swear to you that nothing will ever take me from you. Not Guardians, not Sorceresses, nothing."
In between sobs and heaving breaths I told him everything. I told him of the visits, the voice, the shadows. I told him of my fears, that somehow I had aligned myself with Immamiel. That somehow, I had bound myself to his service. I told Seifer that I feared I would end up fighting against him once more. Every doubt, every fear, came crawling out of my mouth. The blood on my chest, undeniable physical proof that I was out of control. That I could not be saved. None of my confessions eased my mind. In fact, they served only to cement the feeling of despair that gnawed at my gut.