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The Final Distance	By : Resting-Madness Category: Final Fantasy Games > Crossovers Views: 924 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimers: I do not own a single character, location or bit of input that creates the Final Fantasy VIII and VI worlds. I simply do this for fun, so there's absolutely no money in it for me.

Chapter List
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"There's just no way that can happen…"
Kait can feel his heart rate speeding up, as his nerves assaulted him with all sorts of imagined sneak previews of just how gruesome and painful death could be. Bleeding out. Stabbed clean through. Suffocated. Think of how horrifying that'll be! Your lungs just collapsing in on you, and there will be organ failure, and hemorrhaging! How exactly does one just die? Sincerely. He's been knocked unconscious on the battlefield, even killed. But there was always a Phoenix Down or Life spell and he'd be right back on his feet, right as rain. But, to not get up… It isn't the first time he's had such thoughts.
In a quiet voice Hyland says. "I've got a painless way to do it, we only have to get out of here," Kait was slowly shaking his head to the spoken words. "It wouldn't look good to be found in your bedroom closet, and-"
"Would you shut up!" Kait smacked his hands over his own mouth, realizing his voice had come out at a loud panic rather than a hard hissed whisper.
The teens lock eyes in the dimly lit closet; silently they listen.
"Hello?" Squall calls out to the sudden voice; he's a distance away, still in the living room most likely the hall at closest.
You'd think Stop had been used because the hidden cadets are so still, their breathing slow and soft. The only audible voice is in their heads as they couch themselves to do the impossible like to turn invisible.
They can hear Squall's footsteps approaching the bedroom. They're gonna be found out for sure… Unless… Unless…
The doorbell rang calling attention to visitors. Squall's footsteps don't retreat, not right away. Then, resigned to cease the persistent ringing, he heads back into the living room. Both teens released their nervously held breaths; Hyland shoved Kait's shoulder to tell him he was that stupid and that it almost got them caught.
"Is there a way out of here?" Asked Hylans, but upon seeing that Kait was sucked back into the tunnel vision of their fates, he shook him. "Snap out of it," he hissed.
Blinking back tears, Kait nods. "My window, the drop is far down- but it could have just looked that way because I was young,"
Hyland scoffed leaving his thoughts to himself that Kait wasn't just young, but shorter than just about everyone else in class. It was a goldmine for a bully. His height. The puny size he was from 10-14. His being adopted. The known truth about where he was found before SeeD Leonhart and SeeD Kinneas adopted him, it was all over the news because it was a strange case. His parents followed the information until it became stale.
They exited the closet, sneaking over to the window. They can hear Squall talking to someone who sounds like a young girl. It's a Girl Sprout, a wayward ward description of a new salted caramel chocolate chip cookie drifted through the verbal current of airspace. The window was pulled up with as much quiet as they could muster, then they climbed to freedom with minimal threat of a broken limb, the worst that could have happened was the stone exterior scraping their stomachs if they didn't get far enough out from the siding of the house when they jumped.
They didn't run too far before they had to stop and catch their breaths; they aren't out of shape and could normally hit the 'You Are Now Leaving Balamb Town' sign before they even knew they were running, but adrenaline and nerves caught up to them and they were standing by the docks, hunched over and beat.
He's likely never going to hear the end of it from the white haired bully in his life, but Kait couldn't help himself as he broke down and began to cry over the situation. Hyland watched him, understanding how he feels, but he's not in any position to know how to comfort it away from someone when he's still dealing with it himself. He resigned himself to die with Kait the minute he followed him into the warp portal. But that doesn't mean it's been completely decided by him as ok. It's not ok. None of this dire situation stuff is ok, but Kait needs to get onboard because there's no other option.
Finding a delicate way to say such words, Hyland clears his throat, to get Kait's attention, then he touched his shoulder to comfort. "Get a grip. I'm in the same predicament as you are."
Kait straightened up then rammed his fist into Hyland's stomach. "You're an asshole! Have some empathy,"
"Empathy? You act as if I said only one us may survive, I told you I'm going down with the ship, too!" Seeing the dock workers staring at them, he guides the rightly emotional fellow cadet to a more private location; a little ally between the restaurant and hotel.
"I know that everybody has to die, it's a part of life," Kait says miserably. "But suicide? I'm sixteen years old; I should be bragging about a hot date, polishing my blade as a cadet, trying to shove as much nutrient free food down my throat that I can muster... not finding a gentle way to end my life. So sorry that I can't be the poster child for 'Calm'."
Hyland waited for more, and when none came he sighed through his nose to calm himself before speaking and working his fellow cadet up again. "We go somewhere, where we can't be found and identified… We take a bunch of sleeping pills and just drift away."
Kait had to admit it, but when put that way… it does sound… peaceful. To just fall asleep. Not knowing if the dream or dreamless darkness ever has an ending, so asleep that he won't care… No! No. It's ludacris! He's not going to do it.
"I can't. There has to be another way," He runs his fingers through his chopped brown mess of hair, closing his eyes trying to come up with something that can be useful. "How can we not have gone back to our own time?"
"Because this isn't television, Kait. This is how time travelling works in reality… You go back or forward and you change something, once that change is in effect the person who's done so is obsolete. We're not dead in the time that's ahead, we just can't exist here."
"What about under assumed identities?"
"Right, because the world is so safe," reaching out to him, he tenderly touches his frenemy's arm giving it a squeeze. "What's gonna happen if we get hurt, or sick, and need a hospital?"
"What?"
"We could… We could…" He searched for a 'what' then it hit him. "W-we could, uh... get locked up! Because they'll think we stole our younger selves' identities, that's what," Ha. Yeah. There's the lock and key.
"How would they know?"
"Do I seem like a medical professional?"
"A professional..." Kait muttered. "That's it! Maybe we can go to Dr. Odine and ask for help," It seems like the most logical solution, he invented the machine, after all. "You remember, I think he might have said something about time compression and knowing 've screw ups vill need zit'," he mocked the man's unusual accent.
"...Yeah, he did. He did! Maybe this Odine has been doing the same thing, I mean, we're not that far into the past."
"Right!"
"Okay. We've got a, somewhat, plan." He started for the train station so they could transit their ways to Esthar, but Kait stopped him in his tracks grabbing him by the arm.
"Wait a second,"
"What is it now?" He's grown so restless over this whole thing, and frankly he'd like a good night's sleep- even though it's daylight. Hyne. What time is it? He looks about for a clock he knows isn't there. Their watches should be working again, now that they're out of the Time Portal. He checked and sees that it's 2:45 pm.
"I just wanted to apologize, and not because we're going along with my plan and things are working out, but…" He shrugged his shoulder. "Because this is really all my fault that we're even in this position. My dad's have always called me over eager and they're right. If I hadn't taken aunt Ellone's place, we wouldn't be in this mess. You've been patient enough not to just throw me into the ocean, and I'm sorry for being annoying. Honest."
"Okay." He nods. "Can we go? I mean, I'm not brushing off your apology, but, it's not a big deal and I understand."
"Oh. Well, thanks."
"Sure. Now, can we go?"
"Yeah." Following after his rival; he smiles to himself, glad that the guilty feeling was easily resolved. They should be home in no time. Suicide missions. What nonsense.
0 0 0
Setzer's eyes won't stop darting all over the dashboard of the car, nor would his body stop twisting and turning he seems to be trying to get comfortable or perhaps he dropped something. Either way, it was wearing on the driver.
"Is something wrong?" Asked the helpful Galbadian.
He's certainly getting his money's worth in mercenary work. Helping this stranger and assessing the condition of a prisoner in the desert. He should be sainted. He'd rather be home, throat deep with chili dogs and good and thoroughly entertained in a good work of fiction or maybe he'd do something with Zell; he can't recall if his fellow instructor had plans or not, but at least he'd provide better entertainment than this. It is kind of interesting, though. Here he's got this strange looking man with amnesia in his care, and they're going to one of the least visited places on the planet by anyone fortunate enough to not have to be imprisoned there. It's sorta exciting.
"What is this thing again?" Setzer asked. "It's incredible," Looking at the speedometer he sits back in his seat in awe.
"It's just a car," Irvine replied, as if that should cover any other questions the man may have. "And keep still, you're making me nervous," He glanced to his right to ensure the seatbelt was in place. It's secured. Thank Hyne.
"A car?" The man seemed almost to be debating the name. "And this thing roams the land? How fast can it go?"
"Speed limit is 47 in the city; we're not breaking the sound barrier here, we'd crash into somebody." He all but patted the poor amnesiac on the head.
"I thought that these were some sort of horrendous beasts, but it's a machine," He touched the radio panel. "It's ingenious."
"The billionaire who invented them can pat himself on the back, that's for sure." They hit the city limits then out into the fields. "I can show how fast this baby can go once we hit the desert,"
"Marvelous!" Setzer cheered.
Irvine chuckled over how strangely people with amnesia can speak. It doesn't help it that he's dressed in period clothing. The man must have been doing a play and got hit over the head. The doctor might have told his contact to just leave him be until his memories came back on their own. He can humor him, too, if need be.
It was a fun ride through the desert terrain, the heat was beaten back by the AC blaring the in car. Irvine turned on some tunes, letting the radio station pick the mood as it played a randomized selection of songs from different artists. He regaled his new companion with a story or two of how he'd gone to see some of the singers live in Fisherman's Horizon; Setzer in turn told him tales of his own live seeings at an opera house; although he referred to the stereo as a 'phonograph'.
The all terrain vehicle jumped and bumped along the dunes as if joyously joining in the pairs good mirth. Setzer couldn't sing along to any of the songs, but he enjoyed watching Irvine do so. The mood didn't remain as they arrived at the prison. The place seemed to suck life clean out of anyone and everything it looms over, which is currently the travellers. A heated wind blew gently through bringing with it a fine cloud of sand granules.
The gambler eyed the building; having vivid flashes of that awful tower in which they had to climb and climb, with no use of aid from their newly acquired magic abilities. It wouldn't have been a problem if the world hadn't gone down hill and presented them with few options in weapons and strategy. They were at many disadvantages, playing it drastically by ear. The world which he lives in has suffered much, and is still regaining its semblance in some way. However, he'd sure like to return there from this strange new environment.
Following Irvine's lead, he steps towards the door, stopping just at the fecilities entrance.
He and Irvine responded to the sound of a camera's movement by turning their head, and looking up at it; the arrival of visitors can't go missed by the prison guards.
"State your business." Came a mechanical voice through a loudspeaker.
"Irvine Kinneas. I'm here on the order of the Mayor of Deling to assess the new arrival to the facility," he wanted to sound official, not like a young man barely aged past teenager- which he is. It's a trait he picked up from Squall over the years they've been reunited as the, officially-unofficial, 'Orphanage Gang'. Always sound mature, slightly pissed off, but well-mannered; it'll get you places.
"And what's his story?" asked the hidden guard.
"He's with me." He shrugged when Setzer crossed his arms at the lack of imagination. What? He could do better? Irvine's playing it by ear on his part. He can't describe him as an amnesiac gone astray. They'd likely want to send him to E-District for the nut-bars
The large metal doors part allowing the visitors access inside; the desert wind followed them in as a third visitor to the emotionally cold, unique entrapment. The pairs booted steps thud and ting their position as they make their way to an elevator a short walk across from the entrance. It's like being inside a giant metal straw, and the elevator is the equivalency of being sucked up through it. There was a moment where the lift paused and it turned before continuing on. They exit when the door slides open, walking a long, silent corridor of intensely polished silver. It's nothing like one would see in prison movies or you hear about in passing where the cells are filled with cussing inmates, spitting foul words into the air, or moans of self gratification; maybe even some racial slurs. When the guards aren't running rounds, why not act out? But this prison isn't the average made-for-TV prison. D-District is Hell made of metal and heat, and voltage.
0 0 0
"Do you think he may have read it by now?" Kait wonders both to himself and to his rival. "Do you think any changes have started- on our end, I mean. He must have read it..."
Hyland took in a breath and sighed. "Doubt it. Until the sorceress is either killed or detained, nothing's going to move forward in our time."
"I hope it's better," he says wistfully. "I hope that everything is better- and get your hand off my thigh, this experience changes nothing." He grabbed the offending appendage then drops it off onto its owner's lap.
"Kait, we're all we've got right now." He raised his brows begging for some understanding. "More than you're understanding of it… I think you should just try me."
"What are you, a new type of food? I already have food on my plate, her name is Leo. Remember her?" He sees a woman staring at him, and he turns his face away from her unsure of why it is she's looking at him. "I'm not just gonna dump her to give you a shot."
"Right."
"What? Why does it seem like you're trying not to tell me something?"
Hyland shrugged his shoulder.
"Whatever." Slumping forward, he rests his chin onto balled up hands. "...Maybe we should have stayed back there, just to make sure that he's read it and is doing something."
"Maybe."
"Oh what's with the lukewarm responses? I turn you down and suddenly you're going all hapless in our venture on me?"
"Maybe."
Squinting at him, he comments dryly. "You're so lame,"
P.A: We're now entering Fisherman's Horizon, all departing passengers please be ready to exit the train car.
She repeats the message.
The time travelers exit the train then head to another for transit to Esthar. It used to be one had to get into the sacred area via air, but after last years war when sending help was near impossible for the fortress of a land it was made possible to get inside by land. It doesn't run very often, but the train is there if you're willing to pay the fee.
"Excuse me, young man," the woman who'd been looking at Kait on the train called out.
Turning, Kait was grabbed by Hyland, who's trying to lead him away in a hurry. This was all they needed- a busibody asking for directions.
"Yeah? Can I help you?"
"I'm sorry, this is going to sound stupid, but, you look so much like one of my son's classmates." She beamed at him with a warm motherly smile. "You could be his brother, I guess I just wanted to see you upclose. I don't mean to keep you," she briefly touched his arm kindly.
"Right. Um… yeah, I don't know how to respond to that. Small world, I guess."
"Well, have a good day."
"Yeah. Yeah, thanks."
"Let's go." Hyland ground out tugging his overly friendly rival along to their train. "What were you thinking?" Hissed the white haired teen.
"I wasn't thinking anything," Kait mumbled back.
"Obviously."
The woman watched them leave, the smile never left her face. That young man looks so much like Kait Leonhart. Oh well. He's right. Small world. Placing her hand up to her mouth she coughs into it. Weird. She's suddenly got a little tingle in her throat, and it's not even cold and flu season.
The pair take a seat in a booth, sitting across from each other so they're both by a window. It's going to be a long ride to Esthar and looking at the scenery is the best entertainment they'll have aside from each other, and somehow it seems unlikely they'll crack each other up with jokes.
"There's something else," Kait says thoughtfully, his voice was distant along with his gaze; it looked out at the horizon for miles.
"What?" Inquired Hyland, wondering if his rival had come to the realization of what it is that he's withholding.
"The infection. I got sick. I'm a carrier." Turning his head he looks at Hyland; a deep frown bends his lips. "It's not enough to go home, if it's possible we can use my blood to have a cure made."
Noddng, Hyland agrees. "It's gonna work out, man, it has to." Nodding his head at the window as if said person is within view. "Instructor Leonhart is probably already gathering everyone together and they're one their way to wherever to end that whole thing."
Squall Leonhart, in the current year of 2012, was in the middle of cleaning his home when he noticed something written on his bedroom stationary.
'I give him hundreds of sheets of drawing paper, but he insists on using up my stationary,' he thinks exhaustedly; pinching the scarred forehead between the brows. He expected some cute drawing of a chocobo or a wizard or something done by Kait to be there, but instead he sees writing.
It's in his son's handwritting, although it looks just a bit more polished than he's used to seeing it, the little scamp must be practicing his penmanship, Hyne knows Irvine regales him with tales of his instructors doing backflips over his perfect handwriting. He could be worse than Quistis with gentle humble boasting, although, unlike Irvine, Quistis is often quick to railroad her boast by self destruction from doubt. It must be hard to be so emotional.
'Vyanagara? Eastern townships are so small they only often see the fallout of war, they're never within the making of one...' The message from Xu doesn't seem fabricated or misheard. Thinking he should doublecheck, he hears the front door.
Listening to the footsteps in the hall, he stands and hold up the note. "We have a mission. Call everyone to meet at the docks." Walking past, he says over his shoulder. "I'll get our transportation secured."
"You got it, Commander." Irvine salutes.
In Winhill, currently 2022.
Squall couldn't believe the whole scenario. This young woman is probably suffering from a head trauma that she got when having fell through the floor of the hotel. 1800s. Yeah right.
The trio left the café after paying a rather steep bill for their ravenous acquaintance; as slender as she is, it's good that she have a hearty meal. Who knows how long she's been lying injured on the floor back there. However; her bumping her head and confusing the year doesn't explain her claiming to be half of an ancient race. One doesn't just pull something that wild out of the thin air.
'And she was a creature, she wasn't on an exchanged plain as we are with G.F.s this was an honest-to-Hyne morphed-state.' He side eyed Terra, trying to see if he could get a read on her.
What angle is she working? Is she sincere? Stealing a glance at his silent rival, Squall sees an odd look of curiosity mixed with… awe? Seifer isn't the type to be impressed by just anyone. The most he's admitted to was Laguna Loire because of that ridiculous movie The Sorceress's Knight, that he starred in decades ago. The aggressive blond still has a certain tone in his voice around the carefree older man. Mystified respect.
Instructor Leonhart removed the spare key hidden beneath a fake patch of flowers. The fake bundle of lawn decor pulled right out of the soft earth housing the key that's taped around the stems inside of a plastic bag.
"There's some clothes in here, that you can wear," he explained as they enter Raine Weer's home.
The place was bought long ago by a couple and their child, after Raine passed. Laguna didn't have the heart to keep it, it didn't sit right with him. He had to face many 'If only' back then. When the family moved out of the home, the youthful former president found himself purchasing it again, though not to sell. It's a place to come and get away, a place he can rest his head when he's in the mood for fishing, or simply visiting the kind folk who live in the town of his second home, Winhill. They thought the man goofy, half-mad, some even hated him for being a soldier- despite his protection of the town with daily routine runs to sniff out and throw out, any intruding monsters. But still, they care. And still he calls the place home.
The original owner of the home, Raine, had her things removed from storage and returned to furnish the place; Laguna didn't do the job halfway as he even restored her clothes on hangers in the closet. One could almost see the ghostly presence of kept memories moving around in the tiny home. Now, one can rent it over weekends, holidays, summers. Just as long as the memories stay alive, the love there will never expire.
"You're a bit on the small side, but they should fit you." Squall gestured to the closet by swinging his arm out in its direction.
"Thank you," Terra entered the room, slowly, as though quietly asking if she could began pushing the door closed.
Squall grabbed the handle, tugging it closed as if a 'deciding' benefactor. Seifer chuckled at the spectacle; Squall can really be odd when he's not aware of it. He's got no tact. The frightened young woman is practically, silently telling them that her life is in their hands, and he's behaving brusquely.
Getting called over by a curl of fingers, Seifer follows Squall down the stairs and into the tiny kitchen. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans to rest his buttocks against the counter edge.
"Any ideas? She's clearly suffering from a concussion. 1862, Seifer… she's gone."
"You think you're telling me anything new? She powderpuff Hulks-out to heal herself then turns into a girl…" he cracked his neck by cocking it sideways, to release himself from the strain this all was causing him. "You obviously don't wanna just leave her where we found her, let her figure this all out on her own?"
"It would be wrong, besides, it's our job as mercenaries and as SeeD."
Seifer rolled his eyes that he may next hear the codes of conduct come spewing forward. This is why he never made SeeD in the first place. Too much wishy-washy and not enough wild abandon or action. It's hard to be a conformist.
Seifer wonders out loud and asks. "Who should we call? The cops?"
"Maybe, somebody could be looking for her,"
Terra, having heard them speaking as she approached in the borrowed clothing of a light-moss green mock-turtleneck t-shirt and dark gray jeans with borrowed sand colored bejeweled sandals, felt the need to respond. "I may not be alone here, I was with some friends before. We can go look for them?"
Squall and Seifer wondered just how much the young woman had heard, but since she chose the topic the rest held no significance.
"We could," Squall was saying slowly. He was kind of hoping to go with Seifer's plan and leave her with the police department. It's their job to locate missing people and help the citizens of the Earth, right? 'We're definitely getting our pays docked.' Thinks the young SeeD instructor noting that there was no way they'd be getting back to their hired job. "Where can we start to look? Where's the last place you remember?"
"Being at my friend's home, we were leaving. I woke up here," she held the side of her head, shaking it as if to loosen the answer, the truth of the reason why this happened, or how? It feels similar to how little and how slowly she could think after having the slave crown removed by Locke. 'Locke… I wonder if he's here, too?'
He may not always be the one to do it, rescue her, but in her heart he and a handful of mighty Moogles lead the path of that feeling of personal security whenever her own strength seems fried. He was there for her back then, without her asking, with little reason why other than he never wanted to see another woman in despair, like his friend Rachel. Her mind was freed and her thoughts slowly came in clear, perhaps the same will happen in her current situation.
"In any case, we need to head back to Garden. Matron or Quistis might know what to do," Squall decided in the silence between them.
Having no choice but to follow along, Terra gave a nod in comply that she is in their care. Handing Seifer back his coat, she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment over the reason the long trench was needed; Seifer didn't seem bothered, grabbing his coat back he threw it over his shoulder then heads for the back door in the kitchen. They may as well hurry this unplanned chore of hide-n-seek along.
"I'm sure we'll find your friends, if they're here," Squall says as he held the door open for her. "They might even be searching for you?"
"Let's hope so." The Esper doesn't want to be in this situation alone.
"My name is Squall, by the way," looking ahead of them he adds. "He's Seifer. I couldn't remember if we'd told you."
"Nice to meet you," she shakes his hand.
When their pace evens to a stop, the young woman set her eyes upon the strangest Magitek armor she's ever seen.
Back at the D-District prison; a door hisses open as it slides up into a compartment above the cell.
"Edgar, I can't believe it!" Setzer's light brown eyes skimmed over every visible part of his royal friend. "You're here, too?"
Getting out of his uncomfortable resting position, he dropped his hands to the anal bed that's as thick as a candy bar one way and just as flat as glass the other. His stature is far to large to be lying on something so uncomfortable. Sitting up he then stood and reached out a hand embracing his friend's into his. "If by 'here' you mean 'Hell's foyer' than, yes."
Irvine watched the exchange in silence; taking in this Edgar's appearance of a royal blue tunic, tight tan pants to match the darker brown of his boots, and a cape! The guy's got a cape bunched up on the bed where he was seated. He thought that it was a blanket, but when the blond stranger got up it slid audibly- akin to the sound of thread getting woven on one of those old machines- to the floor. Setzer was beginning to look normal in comparison to this nut. Maybe they really are from an acting troupe, and they both suffered a nasty injury on set. It could happen.
"They tried to drown me," Edgar was saying.
"Drown you? In the desert?"
"It's disgracefully wasteful," Edgar side-eyed the guards with conviction. "They next tried sweating me out, hn, blackguards don't realize I come from a desert region."
The guards sneered at the pair who're leering back with conviction. It seems their new 'whipping boy' has friends in high places to have the Mayor of Deling send for someone to retrieve him for release.
Irvine cast the guards a disparaging look. "Now you know y'all can't just torture people without reason- but don't tell me, he gave you one?"
"This nut claimed that he was an eighteenth century king named Edgar Figaro. We're just supposed to let him sneak around under a false name? He could have been a spy!"
Irvine placed his hands on his hips, the dry expression on his face never let up from asking 'Really?' He sighed and said. "The wars are over; and I realize there are worshippers running around these days, but he's far from bald," As if that summarized it all.
Hair. Good. Bald. Bad. The blond stranger has quite a luscious head of hair, better than his own Irvine would easily admit. He's not sure about royal bearings or whatever, but the guy's got a good hair care system. Setzer's isn't bad, but the sharpshooter's still not sure if the guy's wearing a wig or not. 28 year olds don't usually have white hair. Of course, that pain in his son's ass has white hair and he's only sixteen!
'Wait a minute… Kait's not sixteen… Wait a minute… Who?' Irvine wonders why he would veer so far left on that one, but his wonder was ceased when the strangers reunion ended.
"Please, I don't know who you are," Edgar is saying to his friend's companion, "but I'd like to leave. Promptly."
Smiling smugly, Irvine says. "You heard the man, we'll be going now,"
"Not so fast, pretty boy; you need to sign some clearance papers first." The guard with the inflated ego could at least have the final say in the matter. He can't believe the guy's actually being released. And now he looks like a screw-up… Again! He's gonna be fired for sure someday if he has one more hit against his name.
Annoyed that he was caught on a technicality, Irvine shook his head in indignation. "I'll just be a minute," He says to the pair.
"Please, hurry." Edgar says as he exits the swaying cell, his sturdiness left him and his legs wobbled. Another form of torture in this place, as he's sure he's now developed some level of motion sickness because of the gentle rocking of the room. Pressing his hand against a rounded wall to steady himself from exhaustion, despite his being from the desert region, inside this metal box he may as well have been inside a kiln and he's dying of thirst.
"You're alright?" Setzer asked, placing himself under Edgar's arm to assist him walking.
"Barely." Muttering to keep from being heard, he says. "They kept insisting that I'm dead, and have been so for some time."
"Goddess, that's a bit harsh,"
"Where are we?" He allowed himself to be led from the room a few steps then he pushed the away to walk on his own.
"I'm not entirely sure, this young man here, Irvine, says we're in some place called…" He tries to pronounce it correctly. "Deling, the Mayor sent him to come and get you."
"How does the mayor know me? Is he a dignitary?"
"I'm not sure. But, it's possible he only wanted whomever was taken let go, it was luck that it happened to be you. Have you seen the others? Your brother? Locke, or Terra?"
"Sorry, but, no." He shakes his head, knowing how worried Setzer must be about the Esper girl, he himself is worried about his brother and lover, if they're in the same situation. "What do you suppose happened?"
"I can't say."
"Alright, we're all set," Irvine returned to them. "I've got an idea how we might can figure out where you came from. Let's head to Balamb Garden."
x x x
Commentary: I'm just putting it out there, I do everytime. I don't like Raine, and never will. However used she may be in my stories it will never be as Squall's mother. I choose Julia for that role, as some may know having read my previous stories. She was never really proven as Squall's mother, it was merely players' assumption, just ask the creators. She maye well could have taken Squall in at some point as well as Ellone. and that's that.
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The Final Distance