Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

For a few seconds, he didn’t know what had woken him, but there was light streaming into his hotel room, telling him morning had come.

Then the wired phone on his bedside table rang a second time.

Without looking, he reached over and grabbed the handset, not really knowing why anyone would call him.

“Good morning, this is your wakeup call. It is 8 AM on Wednesday, March 3.”

The recording paused and then repeated itself.

He hung up the phone. He hadn’t ordered a wakeup call. It had the wrong room and the wrong day, some sort of glitch.

There was no falling back to sleep after that.

When he checked the mirror, he was surprised but grateful that his face had no residual redness or swelling from the aerosol attack the day before. He experimented, splashing water on his face, and when the chemical didn’t react, he decided to shave.

The first train to Balamb that day was not until 10:30 am. Not having much else to do, he went into the dining room for the hotel’s continental breakfast.

He’d finished eating and was lingering in a corner booth. Trying to keep his mind busy, he had his Triple Triad cards laid out on the table and was sorting them into levels and then by strength within the levels.

Focused on the cards, he didn’t look up from his work when someone came to his table in an apron, yawned and asked, “Coffee?”

He nodded. She began to pour.

Squall realized she’d forgotten to stop pouring when a puddle of coffee started to encroach on where he was laying out his level 9 Guardian Force cards.

“Stop!” he exclaimed as he jumped to his feet.

The tired woman was shocked from her half-asleep state and dropped the carafe. Warm fragrant liquid crashed over his cards.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Let me go get a towel!”  

Squall scrambled to try and recover his coffee-logged cards, but some were already soft and tinted brown.

He was given a box to place his cards in and stacked the wet ones between layers of paper towel.  It was not a good start to his day.

When he went to the front desk to check out, the man who worked the morning shift couldn’t find his reservation or the credit card he’d left with the woman the night before.

“We don’t have a Squall Leonhart in our system,” he said, shaking his head.

If there was any patience to be had, Squall was very quickly losing it. He just wanted his card back.

“I have a key right here,” Squall said, handing it over. “I signed a contract.”

Squall watched the clock behind the counter while the man searched the filing cabinet. It was getting too close to the train’s departure time for his liking.

Forget it, he thought. I’ll cancel the card and get a new one.

He rushed out before the man stood.

Squall kept his eyes narrowly focused on the train station, not wanting to run into Rinoa. He wondered if, paradoxically, he’d already ruined their future together. But he still had good memories with her, so maybe not. Either way, he didn’t want to chance screwing things up.

Cid first, everything else after, he told himself as he ascended the stairs and walked down the train platform.

As Squall made his way to the ticket office, he passed a middle-aged man in a long brown tweed jacket playing violin. His instrument case was open in front of him, and he was playing a cheery tune someone could tap to. Squall had heard it before, but he didn’t remember where or when.

When Squall went to pay for his train ticket, he opened his wallet and saw his Garden-issued credit card was tucked into the front pocket.

Oh… I guess I forgot to give it to them?

He shrugged and paid.

When he sat on the train and heard the gentle chime indicating the doors were closing, he took a deep breath. He couldn’t relax yet, but he knew he was on his way.

The train passed into the transcontinental tunnel, and the car became dark.

Chapter Text

A phone was ringing. Squall’s eyes shot open to see the oblique light of morning casting odd shadows on the textured ceiling.

What…?

The phone rang again.

Squall slowly sat up and reached for it carefully, as though it might explode when he touched it. He pulled it slightly off the receiver and the ringing stopped. He brought the speaker to his ear.

“Good morning, this is your wakeup call. It is 8 AM on Wednesday, March 3. Good morning, this is your wakeup call. It is 8 AM on Wednesday, March 3.”

He stared in confusion at the handset for a moment. The message continued to play, distant and tinny in his palm.

He hung up the phone.

Quizzically, he stood, crossed the room, and pulled his card deck from his jacket pocket. The cards were completely intact—not at all squishy or browned.

So that was a dream?

His morning routine played out identically as it did in the dream. He took the same corner booth in the dining room for breakfast. Superstitiously, he wondered if he should keep his cards away, in case it was some premonition of disaster. But he needed to keep his mind from wandering down roads of unanswerable questions.

He started sorting his cards again.

“Coffee?”

Squall looked up. The waitress looked like she hadn’t slept. The way she yawned, the tone of the question, it was exactly like his dream.

He nodded, and she started pouring, but he was watching. When the mug was nearly full, he could see she was distracted, trying to keep her eyes open.

“Thanks,” he said loudly, and the woman jolted only slightly. His cards were safe.

Squall watched in disbelief as she walked away. He felt… peculiar.

Carrying his still-dry cards in his breast pocket, he walked into the lobby. He paused before going to the desk.

He opened his wallet, and there it was—his Garden-issued credit card.

While the man at the desk was giving someone directions to Timber Maniacs, Squall just left the keys on the counter and walked to the train station. He was very eager to return to Garden and declare the Ultimecia mission over, once and for all.

He collected his ticket and stood on the platform.

When the busker started playing his violin, Squall nearly jumped out of his skin.

That’s the same song that was in my dream… Can that be a coincidence?

He stared at the brown-haired man, but he just played his tune, his eyes closed in reverie as he took in the sound of his own music.

Squall shook his head.

Maybe Time Compression messed with my mind?

He sat on the train, specifically choosing to sit in a different car than he had in his dreamy. He laid his head against the cushion of the seat as the train pulled away from the station.

I’ll be back at Garden soon… And this will all get figured out.

The train went into the tunnel.

Chapter Text

Squall flew up in bed. The phone was ringing to his right.

What the hell?!

He picked up the phone and it delivered that message again: his wakeup call, on Wednesday, March 3.

He sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair in confusion.

That couldn’t have been another dream… could it?

He had a terrible feeling, but he refused to acknowledge it. Time Compression was over. Ultimecia was defeated. It had to be a dream.

Harried, he chose to skip shaving and went down to the dining room looking disheveled. He took a different table this time and kept his cards away. His eyes wildly darted around the room.

There was a group of soldiers with their helmets off. At one point, one of them knocked her fork off the table and leaned to pick it up.

There was a young couple. The woman laughed to the point of snorting, and covered her face, seemingly embarrassed.

And there was that waitress, walking between the groups in a fog, needing the coffee more than any of the patrons.

He probably looked like a mad man, watching everyone closely and practically screaming “stop!” at the waitress when she refilled his mug.

Squall left his room key on the desk in the lobby and went to run out of the building, but the man stopped him.

“Sir, you need to check out.”

Squall grunted and went to the counter.

“I have my credit card, she never took it last night.”

The man frowned.

“I was the only person working yesterday. Are you sure you came in last night?”

Hell, if I know anymore…

“I was in room 108,” Squall said shortly. “I checked in on March 3.”

At this, the man tightened his gaze over his thin wire-rimmed glasses. He put the keys down in front of him and cleared his throat.

“Today is March 3.”

Squall paused.

“It can’t be. It… it said March 3 on my room contract…”

His bewilderment quickly transformed to a denied terror; the kind of fear that just gets larger the longer it is ignored.

“Find my contract. It says March 3!” Squall almost shouted. He tapped impatiently on the desk.

But just as he had in his dream, the man struggled to find it. Squall gave him 20 minutes to search before he bolted to the train station.

His jaw was tight, and the sensation was traveling to his neck, threatening him with a migraine. He could feel his rattled pulse behind his eyes. He refused to think about the repeating occurrences, the repeating date.

I’m out of Time Compression, he reminded himself. I have to be!

By time he was at the stairs, the street performer at the station was midway through his jig and the train doors were open. Squall sprinted up the staircase and went inside, skipping the ticket booth. He tried to catch his breath in the vestibule, as several confused onlookers ogled him.

He watched as the train pulled away from the platform. He saw the buildings on the outskirts pass in the window. For a moment, he could see the countryside, and then the train went into the tunnel.

Chapter Text

“FUCK!” Squall yelled as he opened his eyes.

When the phone rang for its second time, he pushed the whole machine off the table and onto the floor.

As he rushed around the room, gathering his things, he could just barely hear the recorded voice saying, “Good morning, this is your wakeup call. It is 8 AM on Wednesday, March 3.” It was still going minutes later when he slammed his door behind him.

He avoided the dining room. He didn’t bother dropping off his keys. He went out the front exit and made an aggressive beeline for the gate to the city.

If I can’t go by train, I’ll find a way to walk!

The soldiers posted at the gate noticed his agitation and yelled for him to “halt!” as he went through. One of his boots landed on the grass.

Chapter Text

Riiiing! Riiiing!

Squall opened his eyes and stayed glued to the mattress; his body frozen in dread.

I’m… Reliving the same day…

This has to be Ultimecia. It has to be!

He needed to talk to Cid—he was the only person Squall could think of to get him unstuck from the time loop he was in.

That morning, after he attempted and failed to check out yet again, he went to the gate again and stopped just before it to talk to the soldiers.

He saluted.

“I’m a SeeD from Balamb. Do you know any way I can get in touch with my Garden?”

The man he was addressing, and the one posted on the opposite side of the walkway, chuckled.

“Son, are you aware we’ve had no way of transmitting long distance signals in… Hey, Rodney, how many years has it been since the radio signals went down?”

“At least 17!”

“Right,” he said, sneering. “And even if I could get a signal out, why would I help a brat like you?”

Squall scowled but tried to speak calmly.

“I have nothing against Galbadia, I just need to contact someone.”

“Hey boss, what’s a SeeD doing here anyway?” Rodney called. “He might be up to something.”

Squall glowered at the man posted on the right side of the gate.

“Huh, you know, that’s a good point…”

Someone grabbed Squall’s arm.

“THERE you are, Pookie! Come on, the hotel is this way!”

Rinoa pulled on his arm and dragged him several steps away. Squall was staggered by the change in events and afraid of getting maced again, so he became limp in her grasp and allowed her to determine their destination. 

She let go of him when they were out of view of the guards. Squall avoided her gaze.

“Hey, sorry about that… Those guys are pretty rough, figured you might want to get out of there.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he looked at his shoes.

Rinoa leaned over with her hands on her hips, trying very hard to catch his eyes. He was too weak to her charm after all they’d been through—well, he’d been through. He looked at her, and she gave him an electric grin.

“I’m Rinoa,” she said.

When she lifted her hand for a handshake, he violently flinched, assuming he’d be covered in capsaicin once more.

She laughed and it was as musical as he remembered it.

“I don’t bite… much.”

Her hand was hanging in the air in front of Squall, and he scratched at the stubble on the side of his face, wondering if she’d ever sprayed him with mace from her perspective, and what timeline damage it could do if he continued interacting.

Rinoa sighed and retracted her hand.

“Let’s try this again.”

Her hand went out. Squall flinched again, but only slightly.

“I’m Rinoa, and you are?”

Squall folded his arms and looked away.

“It’s probably better if you don’t know.”

At this, Rinoa guffawed. She stared at Squall as her laughs got smaller and smaller.

“Oh. You’re serious… Okay, secret agent man…”

Squall was about to turn away when she said something surprising.

“Hmm… I think I know who you are…”

His arms dropped to his sides and his eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat.

“You’re…. the best-looking guy here!”

Squall blinked.

Does she remember…?

Whatever look he was giving her, however long he’d been silent, it was disturbing her. She frowned.

“Uhhh, are you… okay?”

His nervous system hadn’t been calm in… GFs erased the last time he felt calm, that was how long it had been. He’d been used to Rinoa wanting truthful, whole answers when she asked questions like that, and against his better judgment, he let the words tumble out.

“I thought Time Compression was over… I thought Ultimecia was gone, but she’s not, Rin, she’s torturing me. I keep reliving the same day.”

Rinoa’s brow was furrowed. Her mouth hung open, but no words came out.

“Do you remember me, Rinoa? Our promise, the flower field? I was trying to make it back there, but I ended up here…”

Rinoa took two steps back.

“Umm, you seem a little… You know, maybe you should go into the hotel and lay down… You have me confused with someone else…”

“Rinoa, wait—” Squall said as he reached for her, but she leaned back with a fearful expression and walked, very quickly, away from him. Squall turned and watched her go, his heart a gaping hole.

He was stuck in this hell alone.

He stumbled through the gate to force his day to begin again.

Chapter Text

The phone was halfway through its first ring when he grabbed it and hung up without listening to the message that he knew would play. Squall grabbed a pillow and put it over his face.

What the hell am I going to do? I can’t leave Timber, I can’t contact anyone… Am I stuck here, today… Forever?

The question was unsettling. His mind quickly busied itself with worry while his body became heavy with the weight of the prospect.

In his view, he might as well be dead. Or was he the only one alive? Everyone else in Timber seemed to be on the same predetermined path, fated to replay the same day without memory. Squall was the only sentient being in the audience.

Will I age? He wondered. If I die, what would happen then?

His mind circled and circled.

Wait, if I’m still in Time Compression… Maybe I can still… ‘think’ myself back?

It was worth a shot, he supposed.

He took the pillow off his face. He closed his eyes. With focus, his mind conjured an image of Rinoa, as he remembered her, standing in a field of gold, waiting for him. He cleared his mind and thought of nothing but that, of her.

I promised. I have to be there. I promised.

And comforted by that vision, of Rinoa, standing in the wind on a late spring day, he drifted off to sleep.

He was woken by some kind of shuffling sound. He sat up, energetically hopeful that something had changed. But as he looked around the room, he realized he was still in the hotel.

Someone from housekeeping walked into his room and screamed when they saw he was there.

Because he had no reservation on file, the hotel ousted him, calling him a squatter. It turned out in this personal hell of his, he could not even remain in one spot to sulk, which is how he ended up in the bar at 10:34 am on a Wednesday.

In the afternoon, he stopped by Timber Maniacs and hopelessly asked the rambling, nostalgic editor about local scientists and contacting Garden and paradoxes.

The answers were: “our scientists left when the occupation started;” “you’d have to get the communication tower in Dollet running to reach anyone from here;” and a tangent about what would happen if someone went back in time and killed their own grandfather.

Frustrated, Squall returned to the bar and the bartender poured him a pity beer.

He played cards with a few passersby and played recklessly. He lost most of his good cards, knowing they would be back in his deck in the morning. There was no joy in it.

At the bottom of his fourth glass, he still found no solutions to his problem, but now his body, unused to substances of any kind, was feeling fuzzy and unsure. As the bartender asked him to leave just before sunset, he felt more doomed than ever. 

He took a long walk around town in the brisk air, not knowing what to do with himself.

It’s all… pointless.

Nothing is ever going to change.

You won, Ultimecia.

I just hope… It’s only me stuck like this…

He was brought out of his bleak thoughts by the whistle of a train leaving the station. He gazed out on the plaza and saw Rinoa was there, standing in front of the stairs, just like the first time he saw her, several loops ago.

He hadn’t noticed before, but she looked a little angry, her mouth compressed into a hard line and her arms folded over her chest. It was no wonder she’d maced him. She was already in a bad mood when he accosted her.

Squall didn’t realize he’d been staring at her until her eyes shifted and met his. Her gruff expression immediately melted into an abiding curiosity.

I just… can’t do this right now…

He started to walk back toward the hotel.

“Hey! You! Wait up!”

All he wanted to do was turn. Turn and open his arms. Let her fall into them like she did once before. But this was a different Rinoa, one who had no memory of him.

He stopped in his tracks but couldn’t bring himself to turnaround.

She caught up and stood beside him.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new here?”

She took a glance down at his gunblade, holstered at his hip.

“You’re not one of them… are you?”

Squall shook his head.

“I’m just a SeeD… Balamb Garden,” he said, and the words were more slushed and sadder than he wanted them to be.

“Oh,” Rinoa said, her voice colored with interest. “What brings you to Timber, then?”

Squall sighed and shrugged. It was hard to look at her, both because his eyes were heavy with an ale-induced fatigue, and because it was making him sad.

Rinoa gave him a sympathetic look.

“Is it a girl?”

“Just leave me alone,” he mumbled.

It was too painful. His body wilted. He stumbled to a bench in front of the hotel and put his aching head into his hand.

Rinoa was quiet for a few moments, but apparently didn’t get the signal to leave.

“It is, isn’t it?”

He stayed silent, in the hopes that she would just go away.

She’s going to forget me by tomorrow… why even bother.

“Look, I was waiting for some people but… I haven’t had a great day either. …I could really use some company.” 

“I’m not good company.”

“Sure, maybe, but, I am, and you need to soak up some of that alcohol, so what I am saying is…”

She waited for him to look up before continuing. She bowed dramatically.

“Would you do me the honor, good sir, of accompanying me to the diner?”

He thought about it. It seemed like a bad idea, consorting with visions of the past. But then again, he was stuck. How much worse could it get?

The Timber Diner was a metal-clad building with a neon sign and bevels to its architecture. Inside, it smelled like frying oil and burnt coffee and was bustling with activity. They sat in a booth next to the window and Squall could see the once dark sidewalk harshly illuminated in the diner’s many outdoor lights.

Rinoa took her jacket off, and he could see more of her, and it just made him ache to remember what her skin felt like the few times he had touched it. He propped his menu up in front of him to keep the echo of his memories out of sight.

In this repeating reality, gil didn’t matter. Calories and nutrition didn’t, either. He ordered things he normally wouldn’t, things that would slow him down in battle, and more food than necessary. Rinoa laughed as he ordered but was emboldened to get a milkshake herself when he asked for one.

“Wow, you’ve got an appetite!”

Squall shrugged and let his eyes rest vaguely on the table.

“Well… If we’re going to be on this date, you could at least tell me your name.”

Great, our first date and she won’t even remember it, he thought, mad at himself for agreeing to this.

But, this was the only Rinoa he had, possibly forever.

“Squall Leonhart.”

She smiled at him. Smiled like she had during the SeeD Graduation Ball.

“Well, I’m Rinoa Heartilly. Lookie there, now we’re all acquainted! So, tell me, Squall… Are you always this quiet or is this a ‘situational’ thing?”

Squall sighed.

“No, I’m not exactly a personality hire.”

Rinoa snorted slightly.

“Good to know I’m seeing the real you, then.”

Apparently, even before she was a Sorceress, Rinoa was capable of clutching his heart and wringing it out, laughing while doing so.

The food came and six plates were laid out. The waiter tried to put them all in front of Squall, but they covered most of the small table. He had to come back with the milkshakes and the buffalo chicken wrap Rinoa had ordered.

Without asking, she took food off his various plates, and he tried hard not to smile because it was just so like Rinoa—because, of course, it was Rinoa.

She dipped one of his fries into her chocolate milkshake and gave him a curious look.

“So… do you want to talk about why you’re here? Or anything? I’m a really good listener… Or so I’ve been told.”

Squall leaned his elbow on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“How do you know?”

Because I’ve told you before and you didn’t believe me.

“Come on, just try me. I promise I won’t freak out.”

He shook his head.

“Come on, please Squall! I had such a bad day; I’d love to hear a story. I’m begging you,” she pleaded with both her words and eyes.

Squall debated with himself but eventually decided to give her something. It was hard to argue with her, hearing his name in her mouth.

If she does freak out… the day is almost over. Whatever, I guess.

He took a deep breath.

“I’m from the future.”

Rinoa blinked, her face expressionless for a moment. Then she exploded into laughter.

“Oh, Hyne, the delivery! You’re so SERIOUS! Ten-out-of-ten, five stars, I am so impressed.”

Squall rolled his eyes, sat back in the booth, and folded his arms.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

Rinoa sighed, “Okay, okay, fine. You’re from the future. Why are you in Timber? And why do you look so… normal? Extraneous belts notwithstanding.”

“I’m only from a few months in the future…”

“Please go on, I’m taking this seriously, I swear.”

“…But I went with a few other SeeDs far, far into the future… to defeat a…”

Squall cringed realizing how ridiculous the next word would sound.

“To defeat a Sorceress.”

Rinoa’s hands clapped over her mouth to hide her snickers.

“I’m glad this is so funny to you.”

“Come on, you have to admit, it is a little funny.”

It wasn’t funny. Because the events had sidelined his life, changed everything, and forced Rinoa herself to become a Sorceress. People had died. He’d learned he was an orphan and forced into roles he didn’t want to be in. And now he was stuck here, now.

Rinoa looked at him thoughtfully. She exhaled. Her laughing stopped.

“I’m sorry, I really do want to know.”

Squall rushed through the rest of the story, eager to get done talking about this, get away from this interaction, and walk out of the city to end this day.

“The Sorceress tried to destroy everything with a time spell. We defeated her, but I was separated from my friends. And then I woke up here, and she cursed me to relive the same day, over and over again. There, that’s it, hope you’re happy.”

Squall glared out the window and shifted in his seat.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Rinoa tilting her head in curiosity.

“Reliving the same day? Like a time loop?”

He nodded.

Rinoa tapped her chin in thought and then gasped.

“Wait! Have we met before?”

“Maybe once or twice,” he said nonchalantly, trying to cover up his many chalants.

“Ah, I love a good time loop story! Such a great trope in movies.”

Squall looked at her, confused. He wasn’t one to watch movies and it was surprising to find his experience wasn’t novel.

Rinoa’s excitement was mounting. She clapped her hands over either side of her face.

“So that’s why you ordered all this food! Oh man, I have so many questions! What’s the reset like? How many times have you gone through? How have you tried getting out of it? Oh, yeah, what’s the key to it, you know? Like, what do you have to learn, do, etcetera, etcetera?”

“…What?”

“You know! To break the time loop! What’s the lesson?”

“I have no idea… What is it normally?”

Rinoa shrugged, “Well, you know, all kinds of things, appreciating the small stuff, making up with family… A lot of time it’s about love. Like, the guy finally gets the girl, and then the loop ends.”

Squall thought on this for a moment. He wanted to embrace the hope that it was that simple. But he knew the truth.

“This isn’t a story. I was cursed by a Sorceress.”

“Okay, maybe,” Rinoa conceded. “But you have infinite chances at redoing a day. Why not make it perfect?”

He knew enough about Rinoa than to challenge her optimism any further.

The longer they spoke, the more this version of Rinoa became the one he knew, and he found himself, unintentionally, relaxing. She told him things about herself. He’d heard most of it before, but it was different, learning these things over a table instead of between monster battles. It was nice; as if they could have just done it all the normal teenager way, instead of with weapons in hand and magic at their fingertips.

He paid the bill. When Rinoa protested, he told her, “It’ll reset. I’ll get it back.”

She said that she was impressed with how “committed to the bit” he was. He grinned in response, because the words were hers, and he wished that was the case.

They walked the dark, quiet streets of Timber. It was after curfew, but Rinoa led them around patrols. A flurry of snow came down around them, so soft it was barely noticeable except in how it drifted in the light of the streetlamps.

Rinoa brought them to where a bridge crossed over the lower tracks. They leaned against the cold railing and stories floated out of her as warm steam against the icy night.

This Rinoa was not the Rinoa he saved from space or made a promise to in a flower field. But she was just as bright and just as beautiful and her infectious enthusiasm suppressed his dark mood.

“It’s probably close to midnight now,” she said after a long pause. “So, Mr. Time Loop, have you ever tried to just wait it out until midnight?”

“Not yet,” Squall admitted.

He turned toward her. Their cold chapped faces were close.

She gave him a playful look.

“Maybe that’s the solution, then. I’ll have to stick around to find out.”

“Maybe.”

I hope it is.

The way she was looking at him, so warmly, so invitingly. She was asking him to get closer. This wasn’t the way she glanced at him when they first met. It was the intimate stare of someone who had known him, seen him, and, despite that, wanted more of his life mixed into hers.

She moved closer to him.

“It could be that get-the-girl thing…” she said at the bottom of her voice. “But there’s only one way to know…”

He hadn’t kissed Rinoa yet, back where they had defeated Ultimecia. He almost did several times. First, he was too unsure to try. Then, prior to the doom of Time Compression seemed like a bad moment. In Ultimecia’s castle, they were never alone.

But he could kiss her now. And maybe, that would break this curse and bring him back to the lips of his Sorceress in the future.

Slowly, carefully watching Rinoa’s reaction as he did so, he leaned in. Rinoa closed her eyes and pouted in a wanting way. His lips had just brushed against hers when the bell tower chimed.

Chapter Text

He was in denial. He refused to open his eyes. He refused to hear the ringing of the phone. He’d been so close.

Does it matter? He wondered to himself as the phone continued to ring. It wasn’t going to change things. It wasn’t going to work…

But what if it did?

Squall sat up and disconnected the phone without looking. He thought about what Rinoa had said about having infinite chances and making the “perfect” day, whatever that meant.

Most likely, Ultimecia wouldn’t care about whatever happened to him here, if she was even aware of it. But he had no other resources, no other ideas on how to break the time loop. Would it hurt to try?

He could meet her in the same place, at the same time today, but be sober and make an effort. He’d take her out to the diner, say all the right things and time the kiss before midnight.

And maybe a kiss wouldn’t break the spell, but weirder things had happened. Specifically to him, even.

When the train pulled out of the station at 5 pm again, Rinoa was there, looking mad at the bottom of the stairs. This time, he’d be the one to make things happen.

He walked up to her, and she looked at him, confused.

And then he realized he’d never done anything like this before. The only time he’d ever initiate a casual conversation was to play Triple Triad.

“Hello?” Rinoa said, giving him an uneasy look. She peeked over her shoulders to see if he was looking at someone behind her. “Do I know you?”

Squall blinked, completely immobile, wondering if the GFs had deleted every word he’d ever known from his brain.

Rinoa frowned.

“I’m a SeeD!” he blurted, remembering that was a conversation starter yesterday. Squall was embarrassed listening to himself.

“Okay? Good for you?”

Trying to recover, he thought about what Rinoa would say to him if the tables were turned.

“You’re the best looking guy here!” he said in an emphatic tone unnatural for his mouth. And then he realized he’d just called Rinoa a guy. “Wait, that’s…”

Rinoa raised an eyebrow, and not in her usual flirtatious way.

“I… need to go meet up with some people,” she said. Then she practically sprinted across the plaza.

This wasn’t going to be easy. And it might hurt, too.

Chapter Text

Squall spent the morning of the next version of March 3 talking to himself. He was attempting, with limited success, to make the word “hi” sound energetic and friendly, and somehow natural. The word, and the smile he tried again and again in various bathroom mirrors across Timber, felt discordant.

He strode uncertainly up to Rinoa at the train station in the front of town and said the word. Not only did it feel and sound awkward, but also he had no idea what to do with his hands. He meant to give a sort of motionless wave like he’d seen others do before but couldn’t figure out which hand to do it with. At the last possible moment, he raised both hands at once.

“Uhhhh?” Rinoa gave him a confused look.

He ran up the stairs and got on the train before it whistled its way out of town.

He’d have to try again tomorrow.  

Chapter Text

He decided the single-sound greeting of “hi” wasn’t appropriate for this mission and armed himself with a different word. Today he would try “hello.”

Its multiple syllables gave him dozens of permutations of intonations to choose from. When the waitress came to refill his coffee this morning, she did not fall asleep, because she was too busy wondering what was wrong with him.

It was decided he would keep his hands at his sides and deliver a head nod along with his salutations.

He headed to the rendezvous at 1700 and went to her, but modulated his pitch too high on the second syllable. He coughed slightly after saying the word.

“What?” Rinoa asked.

“I said ‘hello,’” he repeated, but the words came out with a tinge of annoyance he didn’t intend.

“Oh… hi,” Rinoa said with little interest, and then turned away.

Chapter Text

“Hey” was the best option in his arsenal. It made the most sense in his voice, and it could be delivered in a way that invited conversation even with his arms folded.

He tried the word out on the man at the front desk and then again on a person he passed on the way to the station. It worked. This seemed to be a plausible way to start a conversation.

Emboldened, he was even able to bring a slight smile to his lips as he approached her.

“Hey, Rinoa,” he said.

She eyed him suspiciously.

“Do I know you?”

Squall slapped his hand on his face realizing he’d spoiled the interaction yet again.

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Squall said, and was relieved to find he didn’t say it weirdly or follow it up with anything out of the ordinary.

Rinoa looked up at him and studied his face for a moment. The grumpiness that had possessed her features in attempts past relaxed. She smiled.

“Hey,” Rinoa said.

She continued to look at him. Her smile began to drop.

It did not occur to him that she wouldn’t just take the conversation from there.

“Uhhh…” Squall stammered, and he remembered that moron, Laguna, and his cramping leg. Could it be even that guy had more game then he did? He became flustered, his cheeks warm. “D-do… do you want to play cards?”

Hyne dammit. Here we go again…

The cascade of giggles Rinoa expelled was a pleasant and surprising sound.

“Wow, you’re really cute,” she said, and Squall was certain his face was the color of a Bomb before it exploded. “I don’t play, but thanks for asking.”

Squall looked away and scratched the back of his head, wondering if he had any chance this time around.

“Would you want to… come to the diner with me?”

“Like… on a date?” Rinoa raised her eyebrow like she was challenging him to a different game all together.

“Yes…?”

“Why?”

He felt so incredibly stupid. All he’d been through with this woman, and he was struggling to come up with an excuse.

He sighed and settled on something that was close to true.

“You just seem like you could use some company…?”

The words dragged themselves out like a question.

She took a moment and looked him up and down. She hmmmed thoughtfully.

“Sir! We’re here, sir!” Watts called as him and Zone crossed the plaza.

She turned toward them, waved, and turned back to Squall.

“Sorry, those are my friends,” she apologized. “But, raincheck, okay? I’ll see you around!”

Squall stood, stiff and oddly warm for the weather, waving at Rinoa’s back.

Chapter Text

Squall was getting impatient—with Rinoa, himself, and, most of all, his predicament.

He thought about all the factors at play.

Clearly, Rinoa liked him every time she met him, assuming he didn’t give her a reason to think he was crazy.

When Rinoa asked him out, complimented him, made a move, she was always so bold and outgoing.

Surely, she’d appreciate that in return.

“Hey, you’re beautiful, will you come to the diner with me?”

Squall couldn’t believe he had just said that so directly, so unapologetically, but he was decently confident she’d respond well.

She looked up at him and studied his face.

“No thanks,” she said.

“…What?”

“No,” Rinoa repeated, now sounding a bit annoyed.

Frustrated and embarrassed, Squall pressed, “Wait, but why?!”

She looked at him again and frowned deeply.

“What do you mean ‘why’? Your good looks can’t get you everything.”

Squall stared at Rinoa in disbelief.

“Hyne, you are just like my ex!” Rinoa exclaimed. “Get over yourself.”

Rinoa scoffed and walked off in the direction that Watts and Zone would eventually be coming from.

Squall growled to himself and pinched the bridge of his nose as he started walking toward the front gate of the city.

Compared to Seifer?! I’d rather be maced…

Chapter Text

Squall walked into the dining room slightly later than normal and caught the fork as it fell off the soldiers’ table. Saying nothing, he placed it next to the Galbadian’s plate and made his way to his usual booth.

Two things were abundantly clear: Squall was terrible at starting conversation; and Rinoa appreciated boldness… but seemingly only when she was the instigator.

He’d gotten her to greet him many times before, simply by existing in her presence. If he was patient, she’d come to him. So that was what he would try next.

He started by standing in the same part of the plaza he was in during the “diner loop.” Squall stood there for 20 minutes, waiting to make eye contact.

He looked felt an idiot, moving around and making vocalizations to try and get her to look up at him, but she never did. She walked off with Watts and Zone without ever laying her eyes on Squall.

Chapter Text

Same methodology today, but with a different set of variables. Squall tried standing there with his jacket off. It accomplished nothing but making him very cold.

Chapter Text

It was March 3 for at least the dozenth time, by Squall’s estimate.

He tried walking in front of Rinoa today. He did so a few feet in front of her, at a medium speed, going east to west. When she didn’t notice him, he walked west to east, more quickly. He got closer to her and stopped in front of her after engaging in a silly, exaggerated walk.

She still didn’t see him.

Chapter Text

He walked very slowly this time—more and more slowly every time he crossed in front of her. He considered casting slow on himself to sell the bit. But she just walked off with the Owls again.

Chapter Text

Squall considered the possibility he’d have more luck within her peripheral vision, and walked north to south, from the platform to the plaza, down the stairs. He repeated this ritual several times. Still, Rinoa didn’t see him. He was beginning to wonder if he’d become invisible. Later, when a Galbadian soldier questioned him for his shifty behavior, he found that was not the case.

Chapter Text

He waited next to her. He stole glances at her, rocking on his heels, and clearing his throat, hoping she’d finally notice him. She might have, as she took a few side-steps away.

Chapter Text

Squall allowed the phone to ring as he paced in his hotel room. Part of him wanted to just give up. But there wasn’t much else to do to pass all his infinite time.

He thought about when they met, when she had looked at him from the center of the ballroom, pointed to the stars and smiled. But music and stars weren’t an option—the busker wasn’t at the train station at 5 pm, and the night, he knew, would be cloudy.

But what he could glean from the night that they met was that they had something in common—witnessing the same shooting star—and that made Rinoa approach him.

He racked his brain with ways to create common ground between them and realized there was a useful tool he’d yet to utilize.

Squall walked out of the pet shop at 5 pm, carrying a large bag of The Wizard’s Dog – Special Fish Blend dog food. When he stood beside her and put the bag, audibly, on the ground in front of him, Rinoa looked over.

Her face lit up and it made Squall’s face flicker in return.

“Oh hey, that’s the same stuff I get my dog!”

“Really?” Squall tried to say in an even tone. This was the first time in many loops she’d been friendly with him, and he was incredibly relieved.

Rinoa got closer, stepped in front of Squall, and leaned slightly to read the bag.

“For sure, this is exactly what I get Angelo,” she said, nodding. Then, she smiled. “What kind of dog do you have?”

It was a sensible question. It was the question he was going to ask her. But he hadn’t come up with a backstory for this fictional pup. He considered just parroting everything he knew about Angelo but worried that’d be too creepy. He didn’t know too many dog breeds.

“Uhh, he’s… a yellow lab,” Squall said, trying to sound certain.

“Oh, cute! I bet he’s got tons of energy. What’s his name?”

He said the first name that came to mind, as quickly as he could, so it would seem believable, like he knew what he called his dog. 

But “yellow” and “energy” could only bring one name to mind:

“Zell!”

“Zell! Zell. Hmm. I’ve never heard that name for a dog,” Rinoa wondered. “Is there a story behind it?”

“No, what’s your—”

“Does he like other dogs?”

Squall was not prepared for Rinoa to be this interested in his imaginary pet.

“Yes. I’m—”

 Rinoa gasped as she spoke over him again. She was very excited.

“Oh, hey, Zell and Angelo should meet! I’m always looking for other dogs she can play with!”

“Uhh… sure?”

Just then, Watts and Zone, as if on cue, appeared.

“You ready to get going, Princess?”

Rinoa paused as she glanced at Zone.

“Actually, you guys can go on without me! I’ll catch up.”

As the Owls left, she shifted her attention back to Squall.

“Okay, so tell me more about Zell! How old is he? Does he know any tricks? Do you bring him to the dog park?”

Squall sighed.

This is not worth it.

Unable to put up with the ruse any longer, Squall wordlessly walked off and reset the loop.

Chapter Text

When Rinoa stomped into the plaza around 4:48 pm, Squall was already there, sitting on the stairs. He watched her face as she approached. This wasn’t an indignant Rinoa, questioned about her lack of seriousness. Or an annoyed Rinoa, having been ignored.

This was a Rinoa who was hurt.  

He realized now that she had said, in one iteration, that she had a bad day. He got lost, gazing at her and wondering about the contents of her March 3.

“What the hell are you staring at?!”

Squall sprung to his feet and fled from the station, unsure of how creepy he came off and how much she wanted to use her mace.

Chapter Text

Squall waited for her at the station but averted his eyes as she got close. When she came to stand in her usual place, she sighed deeply.

He was certain now something had hurt her, and he wanted to fight whatever it was. But there was (probably) nothing to fight. He’d have to take another approach, one that was against his programing.

Squall swallowed hard.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Very slowly, Rinoa’s head turned, her gaze meeting his. Her anger crumbled.

“Honestly…? Not really…”

Her lips quivered and her eyes became glassy with tears.

Oh shit, shit, shit, what did I do?!

Squall was ready to run, to start the loop over, but then Rinoa chuckled. She brought the sleeve of her sweater to her face and rubbed her eyes.

“Sorry, it’s just that…” Rinoa trailed off and sniffed. She looked back at Squall with a sad smile. “Well, I wasn’t expecting kindness from a stranger, that’s all…”

Squall took a deep breath and tried something else he was unfamiliar with. He offered her a handshake.

“I’m Squall.”

She beamed.

“Rinoa. Nice to meet you. Hey… I haven’t seen you around before. What brings you to town?”

“It’s… a long story…” Squall said cryptically. “Do you want to go to the diner? You look like you could use some company.”

Squall allowed himself a moment of internal victory, feeling as though he’d handled that interaction perfectly.

She laughed.

“Actually, I’d rather go to the bar.”

The bar was not the precursor to the desired outcome, or at least it wasn’t in his one “successful” loop. But he allowed for the possibility there was more than one way to do this.

Rinoa pushed her way into Timber’s oldest bar, which was noisy and fragrant with hops. There were empty tables, but Rinoa ignored them and made a beeline for the dark-stained wooden counter and sat on a barstool. Squall took the one beside her and she waved at the man behind the counter to summon him to their end.

The bartender, Squall already knew, wasn’t too concerned about their ages.

“Ah, if it isn’t the Princess of the Forest Owls,” the mustached man teased.

“Haha, very funny Fred,” Rinoa said, rolling her eyes. “Can you get us a round? And keep them coming. I’ve had a rough day.”

Squall was surprised when the man brought them not only a pint of beer each, but also shots of something clear. Rinoa lifted her shot glass and smiled ruefully.

“A toast—thank Hyne this day is over.”

He must have made some kind of face when she said it, because she shrugged and threw it back before he could respond. Then she took his shot, too.

Fred didn’t let Rinoa sit without a drink for long, and Rinoa quickly emptied every pint and shot glass that was pushed in front of her. Squall tried futilely to engage her in conversation, but every time he did, the door to the bar would open and she’d have to greet whoever came in.

After his third attempt to talk to her was interrupted, he sighed frustratedly and looked away. He glanced around the bar, surveying the patrons and activities. The bar, which boasted a sign that said “WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO DENY BOOZE TO BLUES,” was bustling now, full of jovial Timber folks escaping the watchful gaze of Galbadian soldiers. On the end of the bar, a woman swirled a glass of red wine slowly, sighing as she did so. There was a rapidly escalating argument, the two men spilling out the back door into the alley to finish their squabble. Then, Squall’s eyes were drawn to a closed hand Triple Triad game where every revealed card was rarer than the last. He turned on his stool, fascinated by the match.

Something loudly smashed the side of the jukebox.

“Play “Eyes on Me” dammit!”

Rinoa kicked the machine once more, and the plastic plate naming the songs flipped over. The speakers expelled a familiar cheerful tune but with more orchestration than the single violin player could muster.

Rinoa growled and stomped her feet. Slowly, Squall approached her from behind.

“Rinoa, maybe you should—”

“I just wanted it to play her song,” Rinoa said in a choked sob, watching her own reflection in the glass of the jukebox.

Squall hesitated, unsure of what to do to help her.

Without warning, Rinoa wheeled around, throwing her face, now wet with tears and red with tipsiness, into his chest. Her hands went around his waist. Squall held his arms up and out in surprise.

What do I do now?!

Rinoa cried something unintelligible against his shirt, rubbing her snot into it.

Slowly and carefully, Squall started bringing his arms down with the intention of putting them around Rinoa.

But something felt wrong about it.

He didn’t want to touch her so familiarly, so intimately, while she was so… not herself.

He gently removed himself from her grip. She looked up at him, surprised and hurt by the rejection.

“Rin, you’ve had a lot to drink… How about you slow down, we could take a walk—”

“You can take a walk by yourself!” Rinoa hiccupped indignantly. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, you BIG MEANIE!”

Squall froze in place from the emotional whiplash.

“LEAVE!” Rinoa yelled.

Fred called from across the room, “HEY! Don’t give her any trouble! Get out of here before I get someone to throw you out!”

Squall accepted that this loop was doomed, and left Rinoa’s side once more.

Chapter Text

Considering all that had happened the previous day, Squall decided the bar wasn’t the worst outcome. He could, maybe, work with it, but he couldn’t let Rinoa get that drunk again.

So, when they got inside, he requested that they sit at the empty table in the back of the bar. He pulled out the chair facing opposite the door so that Rinoa wouldn’t be distracted.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Rinoa said as she began to stand.

“I’ve got it just… stay here.”

Rinoa’s lips curled and eyebrows shot up, confused and amused.

“So chivalrous of you, Sir Knight,” Rinoa flirted, unknowingly wounding Squall deeply once again. “Please fetch me a pint of the finest ale.”

As he stood at the bar, waiting for Fred to acknowledge him, he overheard a bit of the conversation the sad wine woman was having with the bartender. Something about an awful fight with her girlfriend, and her girlfriend leaving in the night to sleep elsewhere, and the wine lady wondering if her girlfriend had anywhere to sleep at all. She wanted her to come back.

Squall returned to the table with his and Rinoa’s beers and she thanked him.

They stared at one another for a moment.

“So…” Rinoa said, glancing away and tapping on the side of her glass. “Where are you from?”

“Balamb.”

“Oh. Cool. I’m actually from Deling City.”

There was a strained silence. Squall was uncomfortable, nervous. He didn’t know what to say to get Rinoa talking.

“You… had a bad day?” he asked awkwardly.

Rinoa exhaled and looked into her drink.

“Yeah, just… a lot of little stuff, you know? And… I think I’m feeling homesick. Just a bit. Just today. I don’t know, I don’t want to talk about it…”

Squall hoped she’d say more, but she pivoted.

“Now, what about that long story of yours?

“I’m not sure you’re ready to hear that one.”

He thought she’d take it like some kind of dare, but she didn’t pry.

“Oh, okay,” Rinoa said. She frowned softly and averted her gaze once more.

Quiet again. Squall could feel himself fumbling this whole thing but couldn’t seem to stop his flop. He caught sight of the jukebox.

“Hey… How about some music?”

He didn’t wait for her answer. He stood and crossed the room to the music machine. He hit the button combination for “Eyes on Me” and looked back at Rinoa with hope. She appeared off somewhere distant, lost in thought.

There was a small but terrible noise that emerged from the jukebox as the disk for the song sat stuck in its pocket, the arm of the machine unable to lift it. After a few seconds of attempts, the machine skipped to the next song in the catalog, the jig that busker at the train station was ever-so fond of.

Squall looked back at Rinoa, who was facing him, brow furrowed. He gave her the “just one minute” signal with his finger and tried to get “Eyes on Me” to play again. This time, when it got stuck, he banged on the side of the machine softly. It wasn’t enough to dislodge it. After a few moments, it skipped over again.

He tried several more times. Soft taps wouldn’t change the outcome, and hard hits would just make the machine skip more quickly. In frustration, he gave the jukebox a final wallop, denting the side of the machine, sending the disk clattering outside of the playing mechanism, and all of the eyes in the bar onto him.

Squall turned, defeated, to walk back toward Rinoa. Only, she wasn’t there.

Left on the table was a ripped piece of notebook paper with Rinoa’s charmingly sloppy handwriting.

Thanks for the drink, had to run, it read.

Apparently, this was one of those loops where he chased her away.

Chapter Text

Squall ushered them to a table once more, this one more in the middle of things.

Determined to not be awkward this time around, Squall took a shot with Rinoa. And then another. And another. At least this time they were equally sloppy.

Rinoa could not stop giggling or making conversation with the other patrons, while Squall found himself spiraling about how this curse would never end, and how his life was behind him, and how he’d never done anything but be a mercenary, and—

“Okay, so now you gotta tell me, Squally…” Rinoa said, her cheeks flushed. “What are you doing in Timber?”

Squall averted his gaze and sighed deeply.

“It’s not important.”

“Oh, come on! That can’t be true. Look at you, with your fancy sword and whatnot…”

Rinoa had no sense of personal space. She leaned forward with each word. He continued to try and ignore her advances.

Rinoa made a sound of realization.

“I see, you don’t want to tell me because you don’t like me. Well then…”

Rinoa put one hand on his chin and held his face still. With her other hand, she pointed between his eyes.

Squall suspected he knew what came next, and he couldn’t let it happen. Between her proximity, and her touch, and the sounds in the bar, and his vodka-slicked sadness, he just couldn’t hear it.

He took her hand and pulled it away from his face.

“Don’t—”

“Hey!” Rinoa protested. “What’s your problem?!”

“You’re my problem!”

Squall slapped his hand down on the table.

He took a moment to observe his surroundings. Everything in the bar had seemingly come to a stop. It was intensely quiet.

“Sorry…” he murmured.

He stood and started walking off with the intent of going through the gate. He might even take a few loops off. Or just give up entirely.

But as he emerged into the night air, something caught onto the back of his jacket.

“Hey, you can’t just say that and walk away!”

Squall wriggled to get her off and stumbled on the slippery cobblestones, trying to make space between them. He growled but stopped himself from speaking.

“Go ahead, say it! Let it out!”

Squall just scowled, wishing she’d let it go.

Rinoa pouted and crossed her arms.

“What happened to that kind stranger, huh?”

Too frustrated and drunk to hide it anymore, Squall flung his arm out and said loudly, “I’m not a stranger, Rinoa! You don’t remember, but I’m not a stranger! You’ve gotten on my nerves again, and again, so many times!

“But here’s the stupid thing: I fell in love with you. Yeah, I never told you that, and now I never will, and it’s all my fault! So stop calling me a fucking stranger!”

Rinoa was clearly surprised by his response.

Squall grumbled, “Never mind…” And went to turn away from her.

“Okay, prove it.”

“What?” Squall looked back over his shoulder.

“If you know me that well… prove it.”

Rinoa made it sound like a challenge. She looked serious and intrigued.

This was a new development. Squall’s stomach, whether from the quantity of alcohol or excitement, did a backflip.

“You’re part of the Timber Owls resistance.”

“Psssht, everyone knows that. Try again.”

They moved to stop blocking the entrance of the bar.

“You fight with a Blaster’s Edge range weapon, and you have a dog, Angelo. And she knows a lot of tricks.”

“Basic stuff.”

“You’re from Deling City… Your mother is Julia Heartilly…”  

Squall leaned in.

In a lower voice he said, “Your father is General Fury Caraway.”

Rinoa blushed and shushed him. She tried to put her hands over his mouth, but he pulled away.

“Now do you believe me?!”

“Okay Smart Guy, if you know me so well, when’s my birthday?” 

Squall went to respond with confidence, but then realized that was something they’d never talked about.

He stood with his mouth open, trying to come up with an answer.

“Just as I thought…” Rinoa said haughtily, folding her arms.

“We met under dire circumstances! We’ve only known each other for a few weeks! It’s not something we’ve talked about! …And… GFs made me forget stuff!”

Rinoa laughed and tapped Squall on the shoulder.

“Well Squall, I have to give you credit: this has been the weirdest bit to try and pickup a girl I’ve ever experienced. I don’t think even Zone has ever done something so… round-about.”

“It’s not—”

“Hey, maybe you’ll have better luck with the next chick,” Rinoa said as she started to walk into the night.

Squall deflated. This had been one of the worst loops yet.

And then Rinoa yelled without turning, “And for the record, today is my birthday!”

Chapter Text

Squall answered his wakeup call, just in case anything had changed.

It was the same message as always.

He considered the almost months’ worth of days he’d lived on the same date. For the past 20-ish loops (it was hard to keep count) he’d been going to the amusement park that was Rinoa Heartilly and riding her emotional rollercoasters. He’d been focusing so hard on altering his behaviors, he hadn’t considered how he could possibly change the structure of the ride.

But now Squall had a new bit of valuable information: This day, Wednesday, March 3, a “bad day,” was Rinoa’s birthday.

From what he knew about Rinoa, she seemed like the type who would indulge in her birthday. And yet, the day had gone so completely sour all she wanted to do was consort with strangers and drink her cares away.

Maybe it wasn’t as important, what he did, how he interacted with her. Maybe what was important was fixing her day, her birthday, and making it “perfect,” just like she’d suggested all those March 3rds ago.

He decided he would utilize the next several loops for reconnaissance and then defuse every awful experience she had.

Squall decided to work backward. Shortly before her arrival at the bottom of the stairs in the plaza that afternoon, he walked in the direction she came from. He caught sight of her standing next to the train platform near Timber Maniacs, talking to a person he vaguely recognized as another member of the Forest Owls.

He tried to linger to overhear what was being said, but the chat ended before he could glean anything. Then, Rinoa was off to her spot at the train station.

Chapter Text

Squall arrived at Timber Maniacs at 4 pm and stood outside, his focus acute and constant as he surveyed the area for signs of Rinoa’s arrival. He thought the many days spent not training—probably the most he had off in a row since he was too young to hold a gunblade—would dull his senses, but such battle behaviors still felt normal somehow.

So when there was swift movement, followed by the slamming of a door, Squall’s eyes were immediately drawn to the house he and his team had been sheltered in after the debacle at the TV station.

Rinoa was huffy as she exited, and Squall cringed, remembering that the last time they were in that building together, he was the object of her ire.

The man she'd been speaking to in the prior loop waved her down, and for a moment, Rinoa looked hopeful.

He hovered surreptitiously around where they were talking. 

“Oh, hey there Princess, how’s it hanging?”

While the question seemed innocuous to Squall, Rinoa’s face fell when she heard the words.

“Oh, hi… You know, same old, same old…” she said, sounding disappointed.

“Didn’t see you at the meeting today—”

Rinoa made sudden, furious eye contact with Squall. He practically jumped out of his skin.

“Excuse me, are you spying on us?”

Squall swallowed hard. Now both people were glaring at him.

Maybe his stealth skills could use some work.

Chapter Text

It was clear Rinoa was having a bad day before she left the house, but he couldn’t exactly walk in to monitor her there. He needed to figure out when she went in and her emotional state as she did so.   He went to Timber Maniacs at 3 pm to see if he could spot her entering.

But she just came out shortly before 5 pm, like before.

He had to be there earlier.

Chapter Text

He arrived at 2 pm this time. It was not lost on him how creepy he was being, Rinoa’s temporal stalker.

It still wasn’t early enough.

Chapter Text

He was there at 1 pm, and just before 2 pm, a patrol came by and yelled at him for loitering.

Chapter Text

What the hell is she doing in there?! Squall thought impatiently.

He’d arrived at noon, thinking she couldn’t have possibly gotten there any earlier than that.

But since it was 1:30 and he hadn’t seen her, she had, in fact, gotten there even earlier.

At this point, Squall was willing to be brash and risky with his loops if it meant getting out of this paradoxical nightmare sooner.

He made his way to the pub and then walked purposefully through the door to the back alley that, he remembered, ran behind both the bar and the home. He looked in the ground floor window of the Forest Owl safehouse and scanned the kitchen. No one was down there.

Leaving his gunblade on the cobblestone, he scaled the brickwork on the back of the house. With the tips of his boots gripping a narrow lip between the first and second floor, he grabbed hold of the windowsill to the boys’ room and tried to look inside. He tried to expose as little of his face as possible.

Unfortunately, that fat cat, which seemed to get larger every time he saw it, was grooming itself immediately on the other side of the glass, obstructing his view.

Frantically, he shifted positions, trying to get his line of sight around the animal.

He could just barely see Rinoa in there, moving around, but the few visible bits of her refused to congeal into a coherent picture of her activity.

“Move, dammit,” he muttered, very gently tapping on the glass to try to scare the feline.

Then, he could hear the timbre of Rinoa’s voice as she approached the cat (still licking itself at the window). Squall could see her leaning in, reaching her hand toward it.

The cat hissed and Rinoa yelped. It jumped away, and for a moment, he could see Rinoa perfectly, clutching her arm where it had scratched her. She looked very distressed.

And then she looked even more distressed, because she caught some guy peering through the second-floor window into a child’s bedroom, his eyes trained on her. Rinoa screamed, and Squall scrambled to get down as fast as he could.

Luckily, falling off did get him down very quickly.

Chapter Text

One moment, an excruciating pain blossomed through his head and neck. The next, it was gone, and he could hear the phone ringing again.

Now he knew that dying—or, at least, injury to the point that he blacked out—was another way to reset the loop. He’d been meaning to test that.

He decided to skip the sleepy waitress and off-duty soldiers and the man at the front desk and went directly to Timber Maniacs. He didn’t even bother taking his things out of the room, knowing they’d all be back as soon as he reset again.

He staked out the location all morning.

Rinoa arrived at 10:48 am, and was coming from the direction of the plaza, looking displeased. There was coffee down her front, and Squall noticed when she walked in front of him, powdered sugar stuck to her butt.

After he had that data, he got on the next train that arrived on the nearby platform and reset it all.

Chapter Text

Squall went to the desk in his room and opened a drawer to find a pad of paper. Each page was stamped at the top with “The Timber Hotel,” its address and a little train logo. He retrieved the matching branded pen and began to write all he knew of Rinoa’s schedule that day.

0845 (?) – At front gate
???? – Coffee/confection incident
1048 – Arrive at Safehouse
1345 – Scratched by cat
1636 – Leave house angry, talks to Forest Owl
1648 – Arrives at train station
1706 – Leaves train station with Watts & Zone

He knew the list wouldn’t make it with him to the next loop, but it was helpful to have it all down and in front of him at once. Judging by her vector when she arrived at the Safehouse, there were too many possibilities for where and when the coffee spill could have occurred. He would have to start at the front gate. He’d only cross paths with her there once, in a very early loop where he tried to talk to the guards about contacting Garden.

Skipping breakfast and checkout, he snuck out the front and tucked himself beneath an awning to watch for Rinoa’s arrival.

He squinted and could see her figure, wrapped in a sky-blue puffy jacket, coming down the path. He leaned forward to get a better look.

BAM!

Squall saw stars as the door he was standing beside flew open and smashed against his face. He grunted and wheeled back. He tried to steady himself as quickly as he could to regain his line of sight on Rinoa, but the rascally kids who’d opened the door so suddenly were swarming him, one asking, “You okay mister?” and the other saying, “WOAH he looks like a SeeD! Guess he’s going to kill you for that!”

Squall could just barely see that Rinoa was interacting with the men posted at the gate but could not hear what transpired over the chorus of “nuh uh!” and “yah huh!” He pushed the children aside and stumbled into the middle of the street.

Once Rinoa saw Squall’s intense stare over his bloodied features, she chose to turn about face and go back to where she came from.

Chapter Text

For this loop, Squall sequestered himself in a narrow alley and peered around the corner to the gate. He thought to himself that this was a better position—slightly closer, no doors, no foot traffic.

Rinoa appeared in the distance. He saw the kids spill out of their home and run off to school. Then, he focused as his target approached.   

He felt a pull on his foot. He tried to ignore it.  

One of the guards whistled.  

Something yanked at his boot. Squall shook his leg, hoping to focus for just a few seconds more.  

But then he couldn’t hear the conversation over a loud growl.  

He finally looked down and found a small black-and-white dog seemingly determined to steal his foot.  

“Get off!” he admonished and tried to palm it’s face away.  

He looked back toward the gate, and Rinoa was already through and on her way.  

Squall’s stance became uneasy, and his foot became cold. He turned to see the puppy prancing away with his boot.  

Chapter Text

Squall came down to the street as early as he could and scoped out potential hiding places. He would not be caught under a window, beside a door, or with his back exposed. Not this time. He settled for a patch of shadow against a wall to the right of the entrance.  

There was the blue coat. The children left their house. Distantly, he heard someone calling out for a dog, saying, “Monoco! Here boy!”  

One of the guards whistled.  

“Hey there beautiful,” he said.  

“Are you Julia Heartilly? Because my eyes are definitely on you,” said the other.  

They both had slimy grins on their faces and Squall’s fist ached to hit them.  

Rinoa grimaced.  

“Don’t you guys have better things to do than hit on a teenage girl? Like, I don’t know, your jobs?” she spat.  

They both made sounds of patronizing fake fear.  

“Ooooh, so the Princess thinks she’s too good for us?” 

For a moment, they leaned forward and blocked her way.  

“You should learn to respect authority, young lady.” 

Squall shook with fury but gritted his teeth and stayed rooted to the ground. If he didn’t know for a fact Rinoa made it past them, he would have cast Pain on them both already.  

Rinoa pushed through the men.  

“Buzz off, Galbadian bootlickers.”  

Squall would have followed her, but he was seeing too much red.  

Chapter Text

And so, for the next loop, he made sure to bring his gunblade down with him. He provided some Garden-issued education to the men at the gate about what happens when lowlifes like them gave women unwanted attention. 

Chapter Text

And, because it felt so good, he decided to do this two loops in a row. 

Chapter Text

It was challenging to remain in the reconnaissance phase of the mission and not just start fixing things, like eliminating those idiots at the gate. But he wanted to understand all the mechanics of Rinoa’s March 3 before acting. There was value in patience.

Squall reviewed the updated schedule. 

0847 – Hassled at front gate, walks past hotel
???? – Coffee/confection incident
1048 – Arrive at Safehouse
1345 – Scratched by cat
1636 – Leave house angry, talks to Forest Owl
1648 – Arrives at train station
1706 – Leaves train station with Watts & Zone 

At 0847, he hesitated at the front door of the hotel long enough to watch Rinoa walk by in the street just beyond the glass. He went to follow her.  

“SIR! You need to check out!” the man at the front desk called.  

Squall ignored him, more interested in the information about Rinoa than keeping things civil with the hotel clerk.  

Squall traced about 10 feet behind Rinoa, walking slowly and quietly. 

…Until someone grabbed the back of his jacket.  

“YOUNG MAN! We have a check out PROCESS! How DARE you DISRESPECT our great establishment!”  

The older man continued to rant at Squall, drawing the attention of those in the apartments above the street, all passersby, and Rinoa, who was giggling at his plight.  

After he was pulled by his ear back to the checkout desk, Squall decided he would never let this happen again. 

Chapter Text

Squall had a feeling if he exited the hotel when the clerk wasn’t looking, waited for Rinoa along the street, and tried to follow her to her next destination, she would notice.

He was correct.

He was also correct in believing being maced would hurt just as much the second time.

Chapter Text

He had to scramble in the morning, but he found a way to surreptitiously depart out the back of the building, through the staff door. Though, by time he exited, it was 8:49, and Rinoa had already disappeared into the streets of Timber.

Squall had a large blank spot in her itinerary between then and when she would arrive at the safehouse, but he knew that between those two spots, there would likely be the acquisition of a morning snack and beverage. He noted there was a limited number of establishments which would carry such items and set out to find which one Rinoa frequented.

He started at Latteaga, which was a small stand near the main train platform in the center of town. There was a long line, but no sign of Rinoa.

Then he stopped at the convenience store close to Timber Maniacs, Draw Point Express. She wasn’t in there, and all of the coffee carafes were presently empty.

The Timber Diner seemed unlikely, but he tried anyway. He was going to settle for a quick glance over the heads of the seated customers. But when Squall spotted a black-haired woman sitting in a booth, he asked the host for a table.

It wasn’t Rinoa.

But now he’d been brought a coffee, and it would look weird to rush out. Plus, he was tired. He hadn’t eaten in several loops. And whether or not his body remembered that, he mentally needed some food.

He resolved to check the final possible location, The Crying Owl, on the next March 3.

Chapter Text

He should have known all along that Rinoa would go to The Crying Owl, a trendy cafe near the platform for the Galbadia Garden train. It was one of those places that was a coffee shop in the morning and a venue with live music at night. As he looked through the front window, he could see her at the counter, waiting for her order.

The indoor seating, as well as most of the standing room and the few tables that were outside, were all filled with patrons. When Rinoa finally retrieved her drink and what appeared to be a powdered beignet, she gazed around awkwardly, looking for somewhere to sit.

And, while looking around, her eyes fell on the window and seemed to meet Squall’s.

Did she see me? Squall wondered. The glare of the morning sun on the window was pretty intense.

Rinoa furrowed her brow and walked with purpose toward the door.

He went into full mayday mode. He was being creepy again. She would almost certainly mace him a third time.

He took two quick steps back from the window and knocked into a small table. It toppled, along with the two hot beverages that were on it.

“Hey!” yelled one of the drink owners.

Squall jumped over the overturned metal bistro table and scampered to the nearest town exit.

Chapter Text

The only place Rinoa could find to sit outside the cafe was a half wall around a raised flower bed. It was a bit too tall for her, so she had to pull herself onto it. She placed the book she was carrying on top of the brickwork first, then the beignet, and, lastly, the paper cup. With little effort, she scaled the wall and sat down with her legs hanging over the edge. She reached to her left to grab her drink, and then to her right in search of her food. But there was only her book. Her pastry was not where she thought she’d left it.

“Huh?” Squall heard her say.

This time, he was watching from a table he managed to snag while she was waiting inside. He had a newspaper pulled up in front of him to hide his vigilant gaze.

She searched all around her, and then frowned deeply, realizing there was only one possible place it could be. Rinoa looked down at her own seat and groaned. She’d sat on her breakfast.

He felt bad for Rinoa. He really did. But it was a little comical.

“Crap on a Cactaur…” she mumbled as she pushed herself down.

Rinoa reached and pulled the confection from the back of her jeans. It was very flat now. She tossed it into a nearby garbage can and began swiping at her backside, attempting to remove the debris.

She glanced about and met eyes with Squall again. His heart rate instantly accelerated, and he put the newspaper down, ready to run.

“Hey,” she said. “Can you tell me if there is any sugar left on my ass?”

Squall froze.

Rinoa blushed. She covered her face with her hands. 

“UGH, I didn’t mean it like that! Today is just not my day…”

Perhaps this was not a macing loop. This was an opportunity for intel, if he could just manage to act like a normal person for 10 minutes.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he chuckled as he stood.

He went to retrieve Rinoa’s cup off the wall for her, but the lid was loose. It came off while he was moving it and the coffee waterfalled onto his white tee shirt. Squall dropped it in surprise. Rinoa gasped.

They stared at each other.

Normally, Squall could defuse a bomb much more easily than a situation (even though he never had such training), but, somehow, he felt like he knew what to do in this instance. And it felt natural, too.

He laughed. And doing so alleviated Rinoa’s guilt, and she laughed too.

“I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I guess my bad luck is contagious… Our destinies are intertwined now,” she added in a mock-mystic way.

“…It’s not so bad if we’re in it together,” Squall responded.

It was a risky statement, much too familiar. But it was just one loop of a seemingly infinite number.

Luckily, Rinoa responded well, and she smiled at him mischievously.

“Hm. Don’t think I’ve seen you around before… I think I’d remember if I did,” Rinoa flirted as she pulled napkins from her bag.

“No, I’m just passing through. I’m a SeeD from Balamb Garden,” he replied.

If past loops indicated anything, Rinoa would now try to learn more about him. But he was tired of doing introductions, and there were things he wanted to know instead.

“You said you’re having a bad day?”

“Oh yeah…” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t mind me… I’m just in a bad mood because… Oh Hyne, this is going to sound so spoiled and stupid. Never mind, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about a stranger’s troubles.”

Squall walked back to his table and gestured to the other chair.

“I’ve got time.”

As Rinoa grinned and took a seat, Squall felt very good about how this loop was going. Maybe this March 3 could be salvaged somehow.

“Well… It’s just that… It’s my birthday. And I’m not from here. This is my first birthday away from home,” she said. “Like, back at home, my mom… and later my friends… they would make it a big deal. But here… I don’t think anyone remembered.

“And it’s not like I need a surprise party or a big gift or anything. I know there’s more important stuff going on! Honestly, I’d be happy to just be included in the important stuff, even if they forgot my birthday…,” she continued. Rinoa sounded crestfallen. “I just feel kinda left out and forgotten, on my birthday of all days, and it just makes me miss home. And my mom, even though she’s not there…”

Rinoa sniffed and averted her gaze.

“See, it’s not anything really. I’m just a spoiled brat.”

His last few bold moves paid off, so Squall ventured even further than before.

He reached out and put his hand over hers. She seemed startled by the gesture, but there was no fear or anger in her eyes as she looked at him. Just quiet anticipation.

“I think that makes sense. I get why you’re upset. I don’t think you sound spoiled,” Squall said. The words were stilted as he carefully considered each one, but he tried to come off as genuine.

And as if he’d rescued her from space all over again, she gave him a wide, grateful smile, so warm and affectionate that it pinged largely abandoned parts of his psyche. He tried his best to mirror her expression.

“Happy birthday, Rinoa.”

Her smile dropped. She pulled her hand back and held it as though he’d injured it.

??????

Her voice quaking with fear, she demanded, “How… how do you know my name?”

Squall slapped his forehead and growled.

Exasperated, he muttered, “Fuck, not again…”

Chapter Text

He spent a few extra minutes staring at the ceiling and listening to the infernal ring, steaming silently from the bed. Of course, he’d failed again, because why would he succeed? By his estimation, he had at least 300 hours of waking time in this day and, despite that, he was still messing up simple interactions. 

But getting out of this loop was his mission, and he had never failed a mission before.

While the last loop was another bust, he did succeed in gathering new information, both about Rinoa’s state of mind and how the sugar and coffee ended up on her. Now he only needed to account for the time between 9:25 am and 10:48 am. It was slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

He watched Rinoa get the beignet off her butt without intervening this time. After she tried in vain to clean herself off, she stomped her way to the Square. Squall realized she must had been there when he tried to get on the train in the early loops, but he never noticed. She sat on a bench and was reading a book. He’d seen the title of it in the previous loop: “The 88 Wednesdays of Jenny September.” Fiction, probably.

She seemed to relax a little, finally, enjoying the brisk but sunny morning and the bustle of the middle of town.

Unfortunately, a negligent cyclist ruined her oasis. They biked in front of her, through a puddle of melting snow, and sprayed gray slush and road salt all over Rinoa and her book.

She flew up and yelled a swear at the cyclist, shaking her fist.

“This is a library book, jackass!” she called.

Frustrated, she shoved the soggy novel into her bag and put her head in her hands.

Seconds later, she was jolted upright, startled by the violinist’s sudden playing of that jaunty tune Squall had come to despise.

Once she got over the unexpected musical interlude, she stayed there, scowling to herself and watching as Galbadian soldiers crossed the plaza and got on to trains.

Then, Rinoa went over to the safehouse.

Chapter Text

Armed with the complete schedule of Rinoa Heartilly, Squall went down to the hotel dining room to strategize. He decided he would use this loop just for planning purposes. Though, he couldn’t help but fix the chaos around him first, seeing as he knew what the outcomes would be.

Before sitting down, he passed by the booth with the falling fork and subtly pushed it so it would never make it to the edge of the table. Then he lingered by the couple, and when the woman started laughing, he coughed loudly over her snort, so her partner never heard it. He even covertly cast an Esuna onto the waitress, which gave her a temporary boost in energy.

Occupying his usual table, he used stationery from the room to outline the entire day.

0847 – Hassled at front gate, walks past hotel
0903 – Arrive at The Crying Owl
0917 – Looks for seating, finds none
0925 – Coffee/confection incident
0956 – Arrive in Square
1027 – Sprayed by bike
1029 – Busker on main track plays song
1042 – Leaves for Safehouse
1048 – Arrive at Safehouse
1345 – Scratched by cat
1636 – Leave safehouse angry, talks to Forest Owl
1648 – Arrives at train station
1706 – Leaves train station with Watts & Zone

He wasn’t sure how he was going to “fix” all of this for Rinoa, particularly when she entered the safehouse, where he had no idea what happened other than the cat scratch. And, it occurred to him, even if he did manage to subdue all of her unfortunate instances, there was little he was capable of to make her feel celebrated or included, which was the true emotional crux of the day. And, on top of all that, his changes could have a butterfly effect and make it even worse.

But it was a start.

Chapter Text

Step one was averting the attention of the soldiers at the gate. He tried fighting them, but it took too much time and drew too much attention. He missed intervening at the cafe.

Chapter Text

It was not easy, and he had to Haste himself to do it, but he managed to get sausages from the dining room, slip out of the hotel unnoticed, and throw the breakfast meat at the feet of the soldiers. As he hoped, the food attracted that dog, who was a perfect distraction.

Rinoa was able to pass by unperturbed.

Thanks to his enhanced speed, Squall was able to beat her to The Crying Owl. He managed to write “happy birthday” on her cup before she picked it up. She seemed to appreciate the gesture, but she questioned who wrote it and how they knew. Overall, the recognition seemed to unsettle her.

He’d have to try that a little differently.

Chapter Text

He tried to utilize his (limited) espionage training on the next go. He threw the sausages and quickly went to the coffee shop. Going around the back, Squall found a downtrodden employee on a smoke break. He decided to give this individual… a longer break. One sleep spell later, Squall was in the guy’s uniform and personally taking Rinoa’s order.

“It’ll be ready in 5 minutes,” Squall told her.

“Okay. How much?”

She held out some gil, but Squall pushed her payment away.

“On the house for your birthday.”

Rinoa tilted her head. “Huh. How’d you know?”

He lied, “The Owl’s were in and were talking about it. Aren’t you their leader?”

Squall knew he probably made Rinoa’s drink poorly and ignored the other customers, but she seemed very pleased when he handed her the cup. And, because there were customers that hadn’t been served, there was a table that was empty and available for Rinoa.

“Are you new here?” she asked. She squinted to read the name tag he’d stolen. “…Andy?”

Squall was going to answer, but someone shouted behind him.

“That’s him!”

He turned to see the real Andy, stripped to his underwear and pointing at him. Several Galbadian soldiers were approaching.

Squall sighed. Damn.

He vaulted over the counter, pushing past Rinoa to race out the front door.

Chapter Text

This time, Andy was petrified and left in a closet. Squall felt a little guilty, but, then again, he was doing a public service by trying to break this time loop.

“Are you new here? …Andy?” Rinoa asked.

“You could say that.”

Some angry manager called, “GET BACK TO WORK! I AIN’T PAYING YOU TO FLIRT!”

And, not wanting to seem suspicious, Squall put his head down and did his (Andy’s) job.

There was a nonstop influx of customers, and being a cashier/barista was not something Squall felt cut out for. He kept using the wrong kinds of milks and giving things away to avoid using the cash register.

Rinoa stayed at her table, occasionally looking up from her book to watch Squall or even wink at him. But she left at 10:30 am, probably to go to the safehouse, and now there was no time for him to intervene there.

Eventually, he tossed down the uniform’s folded black cap and walked out.

Chapter Text

It was frustrating that the disguise route didn’t work, but Squall didn’t want to be stuck with a fake name anyway. He proceeded with his next plan.

He arrived around the back where Andy was smoking.

“Hey, can you help me impress this girl?” Squall requested, cringing at his own words.

Andy exhaled a cloud of smoke. 

“Dude… do I know you?”

Squall handed the man a large sum of gil.

“Now you do. There’s this girl coming in, it’s her birthday. Just make her feel good. And tell her that her birthday is linked to her customer card or something if she asks.”

It wasn’t, but Squall figured it was a plausible justification. He provided Rinoa’s name, description and order so Andy could identify her.

Andy grimaced.

“Hey man, I really want to help you out, but my manager is always getting on my case. I don’t want to get fired for this.”

Squall folded his arms.

“I’ll take care of your manager.”

Squall sat at a table before another group could, and when Rinoa was looking around for a seat, he waved to her.

“You want to sit here? I was about to leave anyway,” he said.

She happily took the seat.

She studied his face and said, “Are you in a rush? I wouldn’t mind some company… you’re the best-looking guy here!”

Squall’s lip hinged in a smirk, not because it was a compliment, but because he was coming to realize it was Rinoa’s go-to pick up line.

“Did I hear it was your birthday?”

Rinoa shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”

“Happy birthday,” Squall said, very careful not to say her name. Though, he realized now that her name was written on the cup, and he could have used that excuse a few loops ago.

Rinoa thanked him. Squall was unsure what to say next. It got quiet, but not awkwardly so.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her book.

Seizing the opportunity, he asked, “Are you liking that?”

“Oh, this?” Rinoa said, looking at the cover. “Actually, I just started it. Have you read it?”

Squall shook his head, “What’s it about?”

He was mid coffee-sip when she answered.

“Someone stuck in a time loop.”

Squall choked in surprise.

Rinoa came around the table and patted his back.

“Hey, hey, you alright?”

“Yeah,” Squall coughed. “Down the wrong pipe…”

Rinoa took a seat again and stared at Squall with concern.

When he finally recovered, he asked hoarsely, “What do you mean, a time loop?”

“You’ve never seen that trope?” Rinoa gasped. “You know, when someone gets stuck living in one day? Like… Like that movie, Moomba Day with Mill Burrary?”

Squall shook his head, playing dumb. Truthfully, he still hadn’t seen that trope. Just lived it.

Rinoa launched into a conversation about time loops, how her favorite works of fiction usually involved them, and how they always ended up being interesting character studies. She even talked about some of the mechanics of resets and things that would “break” the loop. Squall tried to absorb as much information as possible, but the painful irony was very distracting.

“You sure know a lot about this,” Squall said with good humor when she seemed finished.

Rinoa became bashful.

“Oh Hyne, I’ve been going on and on all of this time and I don’t even know your name.”

He didn’t mind that they’d talked for so long. It was, mostly, enjoyable. And if this was the way to give Rinoa a perfect day, then he was okay with that.

“It’s Squall.”

Rinoa smiled, “Well, hi there, Squall. I’m Rinoa.”

He realized then that a lot of time had passed. There were significantly fewer people in the cafe now. Mostly out of curiosity, he checked his watch. And, in doing so, he prompted Rinoa to do the same.

“SHIT!” Rinoa yelled. “It’s 11:30?! Already?! Shit shit, shit!! I’m late!”

Before Squall could ask or say anything else, Rinoa sprung up and bolted from The Crying Owl.

Another failed loop, it seemed.

At least I’m getting out of this one unscathed…

Although, he noted petrifying and leaving the surly manager in the broom closet was definitely a good move.

Chapter Text

At The Crying Owl, Squall did not draw Rinoa’s attention; he just got up from the table he’d been holding for her when she started looking around for one. He went to the Square to wait for the next phase.

When Rinoa appeared at 10:15, Squall followed the cyclist’s path backwards, found where the bike was locked and slashed its tires. When he returned, he found Rinoa there, reading her book, looking peaceful and content. There was even a slight smile on her face.

So when the man in the tweed jacket started playing his violin, they both jumped, shocked by the sudden noise. The jolly sound grated against Squall’s ears.

He considered what he could do about the cursed cacophony next loop—cast Sleep on the man, break his violin, beg him to skip that part of his repertoire. As Squall turned over the scenarios in his head, he remembered something from a loop, maybe 20 or so back, that could be advantageous.

Chapter Text

Rinoa took a sip of her un-spilled coffee and turned the page of her un-wet novel comfortably from a bench in the Square. Squall wondered how well he was doing. If he were to ask her at that moment how her day was going, what would she say? For all the effort he was putting in, he was hopeful she’d at least say “well.”

The violinist started playing a song, the volume gradually increasing until Rinoa noticed. She put down her book and looked over her shoulder at the train platform, where the busker was playing.

Squall had paid the man to play “Waltz for the Moon,” which was the only arrangement of “Eyes on Me” the street performer knew how to play. Squall was decently certain it would influence Rinoa in some way, remembering she spent one version of the day battling with a jukebox to hear her mother’s song.

And he was right. Rinoa’s affect immediately softened. She stood and swayed, her face filled with something like wonder.

But Squall was not expecting the emotional impact the notes would have on him.

The sound brought him back to the starry night they met, when she had so boldly pulled him onto the dance floor. They were not together in recalling that moment, incited by the song. Only Squall held that memory. And there was something painful about that.

He contemplated what would happen if he ever saw that future Rinoa again. What would it mean to be together on the other side of the apocalypse? Would he tell her how he felt? The full breadth of it? If they weren’t fighting monsters or traveling the world, what would they even do together? Would she even like him then?

He shook himself out of it. The vision was too hazy and painful to ponder.

Chapter Text

The song worked as he had hoped and improved Rinoa’s day, but he was wracking his brain on how to help during the stint at the safehouse. It bothered Squall that he had an information blackout until the inevitable scratch from the cat, and then nothing again until Rinoa vacated the premises. He tried to do a little more research.

He was able to get close enough to overhear the word “housesitting” during Rinoa’s welcome exchange with the owner. At least then he knew she’d be alone in the house.

After the woman had left, Squall carefully circled the property, looking for a hidden, preferably low-to-the ground, entrance. While he knew there was the strong possibility of Rinoa wielding her handy-dandy spray bottle again, he decided to risk it. Once he found an unlocked basement window large enough to crawl through, he took his chances and went in.

Unfortunately, the boys who lived there had decided to rig their own home security contraption, so as soon as Squall landed in the basement, he heard a string snap.

He looked up in time to receive an iron to the face.

Chapter Text

Squall rubbed his jaw as he awoke. The attack from the laundry-related appliance, besides forcing him to loop, broke some teeth. The pain and damage didn’t carry over, but the memory of the sensation did.

He needed to enter the safehouse—or, for him, it seemed to be the unsafehouse—through the front door, and Rinoa needed to let him in willingly. Apparently, that was the only way to prevent injury or death.

He tried to use his somewhat-lacking spy skills again. First, he showed up as a pizza delivery guy.

Squall knocked on the door. There was no answer.

He knocked again. And again.

Rinoa called down from the balcony.

“Can I help you?”

“Pizza delivery,” Squall shouted back.

 “We didn’t order any!” she yelled. After a pause, she furrowed her brow and said, “Wait… it’s not even noon. Are there even any pizza places open?”

When Squall attempted to stammer a response, she turned and went back inside, closing the second-floor door loudly behind her.  

Chapter Text

“Package delivery,” Squall claimed when Rinoa appeared above him this time.

“Thanks, please leave it on the stoop.”

He took several steps back and stared up at her.

“You need to sign for it,” he said.

Rinoa scrutinized him.

“Then… Where is your clip board? …Actually, where is your truck?”

Squall growled and threw down the empty box and walked away in a huff.

Chapter Text

“I’m here to install your cable box.”

“Come back later, I don’t live here.”

Through gritted teeth, Squall said, “The homeowner does not need to be present.”

“I said leave. She didn’t say you were coming, and, frankly, you look pretty sus.”

“Are you kidding me…” Squall said, mostly to himself, with his eyebrows twitching with rage.

Rinoa stuck her tongue out at him from the balcony as he stalked away once more.

Chapter Text

Squall banged on the door.

“Hey, open up, I’m here on owl business. Is the Princess here?”

The door opened just a crack, and he could see a sliver of Rinoa’s face over the chain.

“What’s the password?” she hissed.

“Uhhh…”

This, Squall did not know.

“Um, but the owl’s are still around?” he guessed.

Rinoa made a sound like a buzzer and slammed the door in his face.

Chapter Text

His frustration and exhaustion mounting, Squall chose violence and “borrowed” a Galbadian officer uniform. He felt gross to be wearing it because it represented an enemy. And, also, it smelled bad. But desperate times called for even more desperate measures.

“OPEN UP!” he shouted as he smashed his fist onto the door. “Under the articles of Galbadian occupation, I WILL enter this residence by force if you don’t let me in!”

He put his ear to the door and listened. There was nothing. 

“I’ll give you until the count of three. One, two, thr—“

And on three, the door opened, and Rinoa pummeled him with rapid fire shots from her blaster’s edge.

He had no idea why he thought that would work.

Chapter Text

If Squall spent another loop trying to get into that Hyne damn house, he thought he might fall out of love with Rinoa and go insane.

He needed to try something else.

He backtracked to his last successful intervention and considered the loops. In this version of events, he’d yet to meet her. While she seemed emotionally stable at the moment, their first interaction, if it went well, always lifted her spirits. Maybe it was time for Rinoa to meet Squall in this permutation, and if he did meet her, maybe he could find some way to get invited into the house with her.

Only, he hadn’t figured out this plan until she’d already started making her way toward the safehouse.

Chapter Text

Before the song started, Squall took a seat next to Rinoa. She noticed him pretty quickly and did a double take.

“What?” he said, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt.

Rinoa smiled sweetly.

“I just feel like I keep seeing you today, like you’re my guardian angel or something.”

It was enough to remind him what this was all for.

“Maybe more like a knight?” he asked.

It hurt him to say it, but maybe she’d find it charming.

“Oh. Very bold. I like you,” Rinoa said, wiggling her eyebrows.

It felt good. He needed this small win.

“What’s your book about?” Squall said, trying to continue the conversation.

It worked. She started talking about time loops again. Not as detailed this time, but it was definitely something she was excited to discuss.

“You know, some people come up with a code or something, just to… know… they’re…”

But her talking slowed, and eventually stopped, when she started to realize what song was playing. She put a hand over her heart.

“What?” he asked, as if he didn’t know, as if this wasn’t all part of the plan.

“It’s just… I really needed to hear this today.”

It felt like a moment in need of embracing. He pushed himself to try something. Squall stood and extended his hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

Rinoa’s face puckered and his stomach dropped, subconsciously knowing her answer just from her body language.

“Oh. Well. Um, that’s really nice, and you seem like a good guy, but…”

His face got hot. He retracted his hand and then into himself.

“Look, it’s just not the vibe, you know? This was my mom’s song…” Rinoa looked uncomfortable as well. “I mean, you’re really cute, and under different circumstances… Wait, where are you going?”

Unable to shelter the awkwardness and rejection, Squall chose to end the loop immediately.

Chapter Text

He needed to take a loop off.

Squall avoided Rinoa’s entire storyline. He tried not to think about his situation. Instead, he pretended it was just a normal day. He was just on mission in Timber and taking some time off. His on-duty activities could continue in the morning. Or at least that was what he was telling himself.

He started his day in the hotel, lingering in the dining area, reading the same newspaper he’d read several times and perusing a few brochures. Once it was late enough that he knew Rinoa wouldn’t be in The Crying Owl, he went there and let Andy make him their signature drink, the Owl’s Tears latte. He stayed until the afternoon, listening to a guitarist who’d come in to perform. It was better than the violinist, at least. When Squall left, he dropped insane amounts of gil as tips because, of course, it would be back in his pocket in the morning.

He was not positive about where Rinoa went after she met up with Watts and Zone, but he was reasonably confident they didn’t go to the bar. He went there because it was loud and busy enough to keep him distracted. He watched the various scenes play out like a rerun of a show. And like rewatching an episode of something, he noticed a lot more this time around.

The argument he’d seen previously was apparently incepted by the presence of the “wrong” sports jersey framed on the wall. He was surprised how quickly a conversation about “Galbadia’s best hockey team” got out of hand.

He drifted to watch that Triple Triad game. It was an intense one, utilizing both the Plus and Elemental Rules. All the cards appeared to be level seven and higher, and he realized among them was the exceedingly rare, special edition Julia Heartilly card. It had great stats, but wasn’t technically legal for regulation matches. He was curious how that player got the card.

Squall overheard the same sad story from the wine woman at the end of the bar, worrying about her girlfriend. Though, as he listened a second time through, he started to wonder: was that woman talking about the waitress at the hotel?

He retired for the evening, returning to the hotel he’d inevitably wake up in when the loop began again. When he checked-in, the woman he’d met on the first night was the one taking his card. He signed the room contract even though he knew it would disappear.

He was hopeful he’d be able to sleep, something he’d seldom done since this all began.

But his mind, as always, found a way to keep him awake.

What if I took a few more days off? What if I took years? What would be the difference?

Does anyone know I am stuck here? Has any time passed?

Are they trying to find me?

He tossed and turned in the darkness.

Why am I even doing this… I have no proof it’s going to work.

 And if I do get back… What if I’ve already destroyed the future?

Maybe it’s not even Ultimecia. Maybe I’m dead and this is just what hell looks like…

Squall flipped onto his back and shuffled, trying to find a cool spot on the sheets. He leered upward as if he was trying to burn a skylight above him with his eyes.

There may have been times in Squall’s life where he wished he knew exactly how the day would transpire: how many monsters he’d run into, where the draw points were, who would try to talk to him and the best way to avoid them. But the predictability was growing tiresome.   

He hated that stupid ugly textured ceiling, and the stale smell of the building, and the sound of the phone shrieking to be answered.

And he might kill the violinist if he heard that song again.

I need to get out of here.