Memories

First story in the Sands of Time series.
by scribblemoose

Chapter 22 - Message

Squall woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat, struggling for breath.

He dragged himself back to reality. He was in his own bed. He could see his clock, winking the time at him: 3:07 am. He could feel the warmth of Rinoa's body behind him. Slowly, so as not to wake her, he turned around, hungry for the sight of her. She was fast asleep, nose buried in pillow, raven hair tumbled around her face; her eyelids flickered, she was dreaming. He touched her hair, reassuring himself that this was real: she was alive, and his, and in his bed.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to slow his racing heartbeat, but the memories of his dream were sharp and bright behind his eyelids, tormenting him even now he'd recognised them for dreams.

He looked around the room, anchoring himself by identifying solid objects in the scant light. Rinoa's clothes, folded neatly on a chair. The painting of Winhill that Ellone had given him. Dresser littered with books and a bundle of briefings papers tied up with string.

String. Rope.

Rope.

He carefully got out of bed, making sure not to disturb Rinoa, pulled on a T-shirt, stuffing it into the waistband of his sweatpants, and crossed to the dresser. He pushed rumpled hair out of his eyes and caught his reflection in the mirror, shocked at how haunted and tired he looked, dark smudges of fatigue under his eyes making him look gaunt and thin in the moonlight.

He ran his finger over a leather cover, tracing initials.

Tucking the book under one arm, he padded through to the living area, and sat at his desk. He turned on the desk lamp, pulled a fresh bottle of water out of a drawer and took a long drink.

Then he opened Irvine's journal, and started to read.

* * * * * * *

Irvine was out of bed and on his feet before he even realised he was awake. Panting, he tried to focus. He could hear knocking, and whining.

Whining?

He turned on the light and looked around, and saw Angelo, on the end of his bed, looking at him with big, concerned doggy eyes.

His shoulders relaxed a little.

"Hey, boy. It's alright. Just a dream," he stroked soft fur and Angelo thumped his tail reassuringly. "I'll just see who's at the door," he checked the time, "in the middle of the night."

He pulled on his jeans and went to investigate.

Frila was standing there, hair loose around her shoulders, dressed in old jeans and T-shirt, hands stuffed in her pockets.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," she said.

"Well, it is three in the morning. But it doesn't matter, sleeping wasn't being much fun. What can I do for you?"

"Can I come in?"

"Frila… I'm not sure that's a good idea, really, is it? I mean, we've talked about this, and you're too young, and…"

"Irvine, please…" he was amazed to see tears rolling down her cheeks. "Please, I'm so frightened. Please?"

"Shit, of course, come in. Sorry…" he ushered her inside and sat her on the bed. "Here," he produced a box of tissues from under the bed. "It's okay. Me and Angelo'll look after you, won't we, boy?"

Angelo snuffled at Frila's hand.

"Angelo? Oh," she instinctively started to scratch Angelo between his ears, "I thought he was Rinoa's dog?"

"He is. He's here to make sure I don't get into trouble," said Irvine, with a grin.

She laughed, weakly. "I feel such a wuss," she said.

"Don't be silly. You're worried about the mission, is that it?"

She nodded, folding soggy tissue neatly into a square.

"It's just so out of the blue," she said, quietly. "One minute I'm a Garden drop out, resigned to a life of weapons upgrading, and the next thing I know, I'm on a high-priority mission that I might not come back from."

"And our taciturn Commander didn't exactly break it to you gently, did he?" Irvine smoothed her hair back from her damp face.

"No. Not really."

"He's got a way with people," Irvine sighed. "He didn't mean to scare you. He must think a lot of you, if he didn't try to wriggle out of Oceanus' request. And he's usually right, you know."

She gave him a little smile. "I know. I'm just… scared. Were you scared, your first mission?"

"What, my first ever mission, or my first mission with Mr Scary-Leonhart?"

"Either?"

"Well," he slipped an arm around her shoulder, cuddling her into his side. "My first ever mission was with two friends of mine, to fight in a border dispute between two high-ranking Galbadian families. I wasn't scared, really, because they only wanted us to show off to the other side that they could afford mercenaries. I can't even remember what side we were on, and I didn't kill anything, in the end. Although Duck did, she bagged a cockatrice all by herself on the way home. She was very excited about it, as I recall."

"And the other one? With Squall?"

"That was different. Squall's always been quite scary, you know. But I was just weirded out, at the time. I recognised them, you see, from when we were kids. And they didn't know me at all. That was way scarier than the mission. At least, at first."

"What happened?" she looked up at him with huge eyes, as if he were telling her a bedtime story.

"It went okay, until I realised who the target was."

"The sorceress?"

"Yeah. Only, not the sorceress, completely. She was in Edea's body, then. The woman I thought of as close to mother. So I choked, completely."

"You didn't! You?"

"Oh yeah, don't let this hard, macho exterior fool you," he said, with considerable irony. "I was shaking like a leaf. I couldn't do it."

"So you failed?"

He shook his head. "Squall was really patient with me. He didn't know, of course, why I choked, and I couldn't explain, not just then. So I pretended it happened all the time. I thought he'd get mad at me, but he didn't. Not really. He just talked me through it, and in the end I took the shot. Funny thing was, it didn't work, anyway. She had a shield up before the bullet got anywhere near her."

"But Squall was… nice to you?"

"Squall's not what he seems on the surface," Irvine said. "He's had a hard life. Still does, really, and he's been alone for a lot of it. So don't always judge him by what he says. Look in his eyes, look at what he does. You'll see."

"Oh." She thought on that for a while. "But what if I screw up?"

"You're not going to screw up. You'll be fine, Hotshot. I promise." He kissed the top of her head. "But you ought to get some sleep," he said, gently.

"Can I sleep here? I feel better, with you."

He tilted her face up to look into her eyes.

"You're asking me if you, a fifteen year old cadet, can sleep in my room, with me, a senior-ranking SeeD, well after curfew, the night before a crucial mission?"

"Uhuh." She nodded, almost innocently. She looked more vulnerable than he had ever imagined she could, and almost as young as she really was.

"Of course you can, sweetheart," he whispered, and held her close.

* * * * * * *

Squall slowly turned the last page of Irvine's journal, put the ribbon neatly back in place. He gently closed the book and set it down on the desk in front of him.

He heard soft footsteps coming from the bedroom, and hastily rubbed the back of one hand over damp eyes.

Rinoa padded over to him, all warm and mussed with sleep.

"Hey," he said, softly.

"Hey." She slipped into his lap, curled up against his chest. "Baby, I'm so sorry."

He wrapped her up in strong arms, and kissed her hair, letting himself sink into the soft, warm smell of her. "Me too," he whispered, "I'm such a wanker."

"No you're not." She yawned. "I had the most horrible dream."

"Yeah," he started to stroke her hair, silky, comforting. "Me too."

"Serve us right for going to sleep mad at each other," she said, her breath caressing his neck.

"Probably," he said. "It's late, you should go back to bed."

"Only if you come back with me," she looked up at him. "In case the bogeyman comes back." Something about the spark in her eyes suggested that this wasn't a particularly honest representation of her motives, but he let it pass.

"Okay," he said. "I'm all done here, anyhow."

To her delight he picked her up and carried her back to the bedroom. There was something very special about twining her arms around Squall's neck and feeling feather-light and defenceless, swept up in his arms. It felt deliciously feminine and almost decadent, after all the time she'd put in to building her own strength and independence.

He set her gently on the bed, looking down at her with eyes flecked distinctly with blue.

He took off his sweatpants and T-shirt, and leaned over to kiss her.

"So, do you want to go back to sleep?" he asked, a wolfishly crooked grin creeping across his face. "Or should I make things up to you first?"

"Oh, I think making up is definitely in order," she returned his grin, trailing a finger down the scar between his eyes, down his nose, settling on his lips. "I'm not in the least bit sleepy."

"Me neither." He kissed her finger, chastely at first, then slowly sucked it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip.

"Oh boy," she whispered.

He let her finger fall from his mouth, and leaned over to kiss her lips, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, brushing her hair back from her face. He reached down to gather up the long T-shirt she was wearing, pulling it up over her head to render her naked.

"Oh Rin. So beautiful."

"All yours."

His heart thudded in his chest at the thought.

He knelt next to her, stroking her skin with the barest brush of his hands; across her shoulders, down her breastbone, over her full breasts, teasing hard nipples. He dipped his head and licked each nipple in turn, then settled on the one closest to him, taking it in his mouth and sucking gently, bathing it with his tongue while he cupped her breast in his hand, softly caressing the sensitive skin with his fingertips. His eyes fluttered closed, his soft hair fell over his face and tickled her skin, and Rinoa let herself relax into sensation, nightmares fading from her memory as she lived this perfect, sensual, dream instead. She felt her body come to life under his touch, feeling voluptuous and carnal and so… female. Not feminine, in a delicate, girly way, but strong and womanly and gods, so very, very wet… she clenched her thighs, feeling the glorious tension building in her body.

"Hn.. Squall… need you…"

"I know. Just be patient."

He pressed one hand against her hip, giving her something to push against as she arched her body into his caresses. He raised his head a little and huffed air over her wet nipple, making it harder than ever and sending shocks right through her body.

She jerked a little with the intensity of it, her hand brushing against his knee; moved her fingers up his thigh, stroking little circles and spirals up strong muscles, until she reached the top of his leg. So easy, so tempting, then, to curl her fingers around his cock, see how long he could tease her when she did that … gods, but he was so hard… it was a wonder he had any blood left anywhere else in his body… she enjoyed the weight and heft of it in her hand for a moment before she started to stroke.

"Woah, Rin," he pulled his mouth away, releasing her nipple from his mouth with a pop. "I can't take too much of that."

She grinned evilly at him, tempted to take that as a challenge. But he was already easing himself out of her grasp, sliding down her body, teasing the quivering flesh of her belly. He slid one hand between her clenched thighs, just above the knee, and gently parted her legs, positioning himself between them and stroking the silky inside of each thigh with the backs of his hands. Then, so gently she could have screamed, he ran one finger through her moisture, opening her up to him. Then he just let his hands rest on her hip bones, and just… looked.

She was trembling now. She could feel his warm breath, she could almost feel his gaze as if it were a touch… Hyne, where had he learned to tease like this?

"So beautiful…" caressed only by the warm puff of his breath, she tried to arch up, to press herself against his mouth, his hands, anything, but he held her down securely with strong hands on her thighs. "Patience," he whispered.

She whimpered, her breasts aching, her clitoris throbbing and her sex so wet and swollen she thought she might just have to flip him over and start fucking him herself if he didn't touch her soon.

He gave a wicked little laugh, but before she could protest any more she felt one finger start to stir around near her entrance, finally pushing inside her, at last, something to clench and rub against... he slid another finger in, pressing upwards until he found the magic spot and then massaging it firmly. She was just falling into a rhythm, clenching her muscles as he fucked her steadily with those long, powerful fingers, squelching inside her… and then she felt his tongue on her clitoris, soft and wet but pressing and licking with perfect pressure, and suddenly the world shattered as she came, just like that, no warning, just white haze and contractions so deep inside her, so strong and so good she could barely breathe. She certainly couldn't scream his name, but it sounded in her head, like the chiming of a bell, filling her thoughts like his touch filled her senses, overwhelming and full and complete.

He didn't stop.

He slowed a little, not least because her sex was clamping down so hard on his fingers he didn't dare to move them. He backed off some of the pressure with his tongue, swirling around her clitoris rather than going head on. But he didn't stop. At that moment he didn't think he could ever stop. It felt so good, to lose himself in this body, this moment, this love, to let everything else just fade away. He cursed himself for every moment his stupid reserve had kept him from this, and he envied Irvine for the ease with which he found it.

He waited until her breathing had slowed a little, watching her face, her fists gradually freeing their grip on the sheets. He was going to wait a little longer, tease her some more, see if he could make her beg, maybe. But his cock had other ideas, and was making them be clearly known. So he took his mouth away, her little cries of protest rending his heart, and replaced his fingers with his aching sex, sliding easily inside her, hyne, she was so, so wet… and then she was full of him, and he was surrounded by hot, tight muscle, milking him as he fucked her. He looked down at her, her eyes tight shut, a slight sheen of sweat on her skin, breasts and cheeks flushed pink; then she wrapped her legs around his waist, gripping with her thighs, and everything just got hotter and tighter… he realised tears were escaping from her eyes, and he was concerned for a minute, kissed her eyelids open to check what she was feeling; but all he saw in her gaze was heat and lust and passion, and she smiled at him and pulled his head down for a kiss, her small, agile tongue fucking his mouth.

Then her breath hitched in and he felt her tense, her sex clenched hard around the root of his cock. She was still and tight for a long moment, before her muscles started to pulse with her orgasm, and her tears flowed more than ever, and he came with a scream that left his lungs and throat raw, pumping her full of love and gratitude and hot, white lust.

He felt her arms around him, pulling him down on top of her, and his limbs were suddenly so feeble he couldn't resist. He kissed her face over and over, tasting salty tears and delicious skin, and finally brushing her lips with his. Coming to a little, he propped himself up on shaky elbows, and looked into her eyes, smoothing her dishevelled hair carefully around her face.

"That was pretty amazing," she whispered.

He just smiled.

She yawned sleepily. "Tired now," she murmured. "Good tired. Happy tired."

He rolled carefully off her, and retrieved the quilt from the floor, pulling it over them as he scooped her back into his arms. She nestled happily into his chest, one leg thrown over his hip, her body warm and familiar, and slipped into sleep.

He stayed awake, just for a few moments, just so he could enjoy the feel of her in his arms, until the rhythm of her breath lulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * * * * * *

Irvine stretched out a strand of Frila's hair, gently pulling it straight, and then letting go of one end, watching it coil, spring-like, back to its usual curl. For some reason, it made him want to chuckle, the way it did that. Just... ping. Heh.

He stroked the pale skin of her arm as it lay heavy across his stomach, joining up patterns in the sprinkling of freckles to make invisible pictures. He was dimly aware that one of his feet had gone to sleep under Angelo's weight, but he felt strangely contented and unwilling to disturb either of his sleeping companions. It could wait. It could all wait.

The dreams had receded now, and once he'd unjunctioned Ether, and explained in a brief internal dialogue with his dick that he didn't have any intention of taking advantage of Frila, he'd begun to feel almost relaxed. Exhausted with fear for Selphie and anguish over Squall, he just let himself sink into the warmth of Frila's company and Angelo's devotion. It felt good to be needed, not needed to save the world, or to achieve the unachievable; just needed to cuddle and reassure and comfort. He could do that. He was good at it.

It was nearly morning, but he let himself drift off to sleep anyway.

He woke to the sound of a soft voice in his ear.

"Irvine… hey, Irvy, wake up…"

"Selphie?"

"No, Irvy, it's Rin."

He flickered his eyes open and found himself looking into Rinoa's warm, steady gaze. Her skin was positively glowing, he noticed through the fug of left over-sleep, and she looked really happy, in a way that Irvine recognised straight away. Squall. You old dog.

"Oh. Hi. Hello?" he started to sit up, making Frila grumble a little against his chest.

"Shh, it's okay, don't get up," Rinoa whispered. "Sorry, I came for Angelo and the door was open. I wouldn't have woken you, but Squall asked me to give you this," she produced a large padded envelope, tucked it under his free arm.

"What? Oh, thanks. What time is it?"

"Just gone seven. Squall said he'd drop by around nine, there's something he wants you to do. We leave at midday to go get Selphie."

"Oh. Okay."

"It might be an idea if Frila was elsewhere by the time Squall comes round. I'm not sure he would really approve, you know."

He flashed his eyes briefly to the copper-coloured curls, suddenly remembering to be sheepish. "She was frightened, Rin."

Rinoa gave him a cynical look.

"No, really, it's her first mission. She's scared. She just needed a bit of a cuddle," his voice deepened, serious. "That's all."

Rinoa's expression softened. "I know," she said. "Poor thing. Gods, I remember how I felt when we set out from Timber. Don't worry, I believe you. But I'm not sure Squall would necessarily see it the same way."

"No. 'Course not. I'll make sure she's safely tucked up in her own bed by then."

"Good. Well, I'll see you later," she clicked her fingers, and Angelo leapt off the bed, straight to her side, eyes bright and alert, tail thumping. Rinoa gave Irvine a swift kiss on the cheek, smelling of shampoo and Squall's shower gel, and left.

Irvine considered the package in his hand. Not wanting to disturb Frila, he opened the top with his teeth, and carefully slid the contents onto the floor by the bed. His heart sank a little at the sight of his journal. Returned, wordlessly, by a third party. Probably unread.

Then there was a faint thunk, as a second book dropped onto the floor.

A little blue notebook, with a red marker ribbon.

Squall's diary.

Irvine swallowed hard, and reached out to pick it up, a slimmer volume than his, but with the same ribbon; Irvine remembered seeing it, in Squall's hands, that evening in the quad a lifetime ago, when they'd chatted about Selphie and Rinoa, and losing time.

His heart in his mouth, Irvine flicked one-handed to the first page, and started to read.

* * * * * * *

Quistis slipped Pandemonia into junction as she got out of the shower, grateful to have an excuse: after all, if they were supposed to be preparing for war readiness, a SeeD should be junctioned at all times. She swiftly pulled on her clothes, leaving her hair wrapped in its towel, and sat down at her desk with coffee, and an apple that she'd call breakfast, to read her mail.

She scanned her eyes down the list of messages in her in-box for anything remotely interesting. Lots of reports, mundane Garden bureaucracy. Something from Mr Firearm that had 'missing you' as it's subject line. Oh crap. One from Xian entitled 'Instructors needed.' Double crap.

They might as well just put 'Quisty need not apply' on the advert, of course. Even if they're desperate, they won't want me. Not even to head up the training programme. Oh no, Zell can do that. Zell, who I fucking taught everything he fucking knows. I'll just deal with the paperwork.

She was hungry, she realised, hungrier than an apple would address. She suddenly realised she hadn't had a proper meal since she got back from the mission. She ought to go to the cafeteria. But she didn't want to see anyone. Not yet. They wouldn't miss her, she could go later, when they'd all gone. She couldn't face the goodbyes. It had been so damn hard at the briefing yesterday, atmosphere you could cut with a knife and Squall so pissed… she couldn't take that again. They weren't interested in her, anyway. Squall hadn't even asked how she felt. No-one had, except Zell, annoying little jerk.

She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a small bottle. She wouldn't have to go eat, and no-one need know. Hyne, this just got easier every time.

What am I doing? What, in Ultimecia's name, am I doing?

She put the elixir down, and concentrated hard on her computer screen.

Bulletins… more bureaucracy… oh. From Selphie. And Rinoa.

They'd sent it from the hotel, that night. When she'd got drunk.

"Subject: Happy Birthday, Zelly-Boy. Message: Great to see you let your hair down, Quisty. The firearm story will stay with us for a while :) Love you lots, Rin&Selph."

Oh gods. What did I do? And Selphie… oh, Selphie…

The bottle was already in her hand by the time she looked at the next one.

"Subject: How's my favourite instructor?"

She pressed the delete button and poured the elixir down her throat, slowly, allowing herself to enjoy the fizz on her tongue, the velvety warmth it spread through her body. She closed her eyes, arching her back a little with the pleasure of it.

Tossing her half-eaten apple in the bin, she smiled a glassy smile and went to dry her hair.

* * * * * * *

Irvine was beginning to think he didn't really know Squall at all. He'd imagined his journal would be concise, factual, sparse. After all, Squall had taken the phrase 'man of few words' and made it completely and utterly his own.

It read like poetry.

There was so much feeling there. As if all the unexpressed emotions that must be boiling in the man every hour of the day were distilled and concentrated and written down here in perfect focus. As if the words Squall couldn't find when he spoke to people just fell from pen to paper with perfect eloquence. It was engaging and poignant and beautiful to read, it was even witty.

There weren't pages and pages of prose telling of how much Squall liked Irvine and would forgive him anything he did. But there were precious phrases, here and there, just enough, a little bit every few days, that left Irvine in no doubt that he was appreciated, admired - loved, even. That the friendship Irvine always thought they'd had really existed.

That twisted the knife of guilt in his gut, more than ever. He knew, when he got to the last entries, that all that esteem and affection Squall had held for him would be crushed. It was like reading a novel when you knew that the hero would die a pointless death in the end.

He finally reached yesterday's entry, and sure enough, the words betrayal, deception, liar, rape, shot off the page and hit him like bullets.

But it didn't stop there. There was one last entry. He slowly turned the page.

Oh Squall. Oh, man.

He'd written it down. His memories, the ones Irvine had let Ether steal. In graphic, poetic detail.

"Hey, Irvine, are you OK?"

He snapped the book shut quickly and turned to Frila: he'd actually forgotten she was there.

"Are you ok?" she repeated. "You're crying."

"What?" Something splashed onto the back of his hand and he realised she was right. "Oh. Something in my eye."

She laughed, rummaging for the tissues. "Yeah, right, heard that one before," she said, finally locating the box and passing it to him.

"Thanks." He flashed her a smile, but didn't elaborate. "How are you?"

"Better, thanks," she yawned. "Still petrified, but hey…"

He hugged her with the stiff arm that had been around her all night. "You'll be fine," he said. "Besides, you'll be with me. I'll look out for, you, hotshot."

"Mm.." she put her arms around him and hugged him back, leaving a kiss tingling on his neck. "I guess I ought to go pack stuff… what do you take? We don't even know how long we're going to be gone for, do we?"

"No. Just take the minimum. It's amazing what you can live without." He watched her, as she scrambled off the bed, all agile limbs and red hair. "Oh, tell you what, though…"

"What?"

"Don't forget your gunblade, eh?"

She flashed him a grin. "I'll try to remember that, Captain."

"Good. Cadet. Now, get out of my room before Squall finds you here and beats us both to a bloody pulp."

She actually went a bit pale.

"He wouldn't, would he?"

Irvine laughed. "Of course he wouldn't, Hotshot. But he takes his responsibilities very seriously. He'd have to say something, at least. And he doesn't need to be bothering about stuff like that today." He swung himself off the bed and crossed to her, cupped her worried face in one hand.

"You really look out for him, don't you?" she whispered.

"Yes," said Irvine, through the sudden lump in his throat. "He's my best friend."

She recognised something in his eyes, and a question flickered across her face, but she didn't ask it.

"Thanks," she said instead. "For last night."

"You're welcome." Irvine found himself leaning down to kiss her, as if it were the most normal and natural thing in the world to do to anyone. It might even have started out as a platonic peck on the cheek, but by the time his lips reached hers and he found his arm snaking around her body, palm flat on the small of her back, pulling her against him, it was anything but.

He heard her moan, such a carnal, longing sound that it brought him straight back to his senses, and he pulled back. He opened his mouth to apologise, explain, retract… but she wriggled from his arms, smiled at him and was gone before he could say a word.

* * * * * * *

Irvine zipped up his bag and threw it carelessly on the bed, next to his rifle.

Ready.

For anything?

Exactly as the numbers on Irvine's clock morphed to 9:00, there came the sound of the door chime.

"Hi Squall. Come in."

Irvine found he was holding his breath. At least Squall didn't look pissed off anymore. Not completely happy, admittedly: there was a distinct sense of duty about him, he was already slipping into Commander mode. But not pissed.

Irvine handed him his journal. "Thank you," he said.

"You read it?" Squall's eyes locked Irvine's: this was a moment. One of those crossroads moments. Where regret and hope presented themselves in disguise, and you had to choose.

"It's beautiful," said Irvine. "You made me cry, you bastard."

Squall blinked in surprise. "Oh," he said. Evidently that hadn't been what he'd expected to hear.

"And yes," said Irvine, quickly. "Of course I do."

A long pause. Then Squall nodded, his mouth a tight line, just slightly twitching at one corner.

"Good," he said, eventually. "That's that, then."

Irvine let the breath sigh out of him, wanting to collapse in a heap of relief and emotional exhaustion on the bed, or punch the air in victory. He wasn't sure which.

"Are you junctioned?" Squall asked him.

Irvine shook his head. "No," he said. "Just me here."

"Good. I want this to be just between us." He crossed the three strides between them, and hooked one hand around the back of Irvine's head. For a split second, it crossed Irvine's mind that he could have read this completely wrong, and Squall might be about to snap his neck. But he wasn't.

He pulled Irvine's unresisting head towards his, and kissed him. Not for long, not hard. Just enough to send a shock of heat down Irvine's spine and leave his lips damp and tingling.

He opened his eyes to see Squall looking at him, the barest trace of an amused smile on his face, slipping his journal into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Irvine had no idea what to say, so he decided, for once, to follow Squall's lead and say nothing at all.

"I've got something difficult for you to do," said Squall.

"Oh?" Irvine managed.

"There's some information I need," explained Squall. "You'll need to junction Ether." His expression was completely serious now. "We have to go pay a visit to Xu."

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