Author's Note: Well, here it is, the final installation to A Promise for Christmas. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who's read and reviewed, and who has stuck with me through all the breaks and writing blocks and stumbles along the way. I did my best with this chapter, although the story certainly flowed a little differently than I'd originally had in mind when I first started all those years ago. It means a lot to me that you've read through this far, and it'd mean a lot to me if I heard from you at the end. It felt good to write this while it lasted, and now it feels good to say The End.
A Promise for Christmas
Chapter Twelve
~Final~
Rinoa had a bath drawn and waiting when Squall made it to the room Ellone had prepared for them. The scents of vanilla and cinnamon wafted through the air, waltzing with the quiet strains of violin music from the sound system linked throughout the rooms. Candles flickered, on tables, on counters, on the stand beside the bed, casting a warm glow across the room and turning the simple luxury into a romantic getaway.
Squall knew just what Rinoa was up to, and though he appreciated the effort, his mind kept fogging with exhaustion and he couldn't quite focus. She set aside the book she'd been reading when he came in, all but staggering, and crossed to where he stood, staring dumbly at her.
"Bath first," she decided, rising on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his mouth. She scrunched up her face. "You smell rank, Commander."
Squall let her nudge him into the bathroom, let her undress him as she had before he'd met with Laguna. He had enough in him to make a grab for her as she led him to the steaming tub. "You coming in with me?"
Rinoa shook her head. "Nope. I already cleaned up." She lifted an eyebrow and made sure the white robe she wore was snugged tight around her waist. "Besides, I'd have to take off what I've got on under this, and I was hoping you'd be able to do that for me. After your bath."
Maybe he wasn't as tired as he thought. Lust heated in his belly, and Squall grinned even as he stepped into the tub. The heat of the water coursed through him, had him hissing in welcome shock as he lowered himself into the oversized tub. "Hyne, this feels good. I always thought baths were overrated."
She smiled, balanced on the edge of the tub, and let her hand play with his tangled hair. "There's wine in the cooler. Want some?"
Squall shook his head, settled deeper so water lapped at his chin. "You going to ask?"
Rinoa shrugged. She and Ellone had had plenty of time to talk while Squall was gone, and she had a fair idea of what had happened in Laguna's office. "You want to tell me about it?"
"I told him 'Merry Christmas'." Squall related, in bits and pieces, what he and Laguna had said, but he hesitated, trying to put into words the feelings that had come over him unexpectedly in Laguna's office. "It was…I don't know, Rinoa. Like something was waking up inside of me. Weird, but…not really all bad."
Smiling, Rinoa trailed a finger over Squall's shoulder. "You've gone a long time without having anyone there for you, as a parent figure. You've lived most of your life without wanting that. Guidance, protection, support. Someone to be proud of you." He turned his head to meet her eyes, and she nodded. "He was worried about you. Pacing his office, listening to the radio. If he could have crossed the distance to be with you through sheer force of will, he would have done it."
Vaguely uncomfortable with the knowledge, Squall shrugged. The movement pulled at sore muscles, and he stifled a groan, stretching out his legs and letting his head fall back against the cushion. The heat was slowly working away at the tension, easing the aches and fatigues of the day. "I never cared about my parents." The heat, the sleepiness that ensued, lowered his defenses. "As a kid in the orphanage, I never wondered about who my mom or dad was, why I'd been abandoned, how I came to be one of Matron's kids. I mean, I sometimes thought about it. Was I a bad kid, did my parents hate me? It was always self-recriminating. Was I a failure, is that why they didn't want me? The other kids weren't like that. They'd talk about it sometimes, like, I wonder what my dad did, or I wonder if my mom was famous. But I never cared about who my parents were. I never felt deprived, because I had Ellone."
He paused, surprised as much as Rinoa by his sudden volunteering of information. But he knew he had to get it all out, knew he could, and with Rinoa, she would understand. "We called her Sis, because she was the oldest of us, and she was always taking care of us. It was Sis who bandaged my injuries when Seifer beat on me, Sis who sat with me when I got sick with the flu, Sis who played with me when the other kids would run and call me names. I loved her, I think, the only way I knew how. Not in a romantic sense, but…" He fumbled, frowning, searching for the right words.
"You loved her," Rinoa said, quietly. She understood. "Ellone has this way about her that makes you want to love her."
Grateful, he nodded. "She was everything to me. Best friend, older sister, mother. She was always there, no matter what happened. When she left…" He brought a fist to his heart, felt his own steady pulse, but he was blind and deaf to it, lost in memories of a childhood long past. "Everyone missed her, but it was deeper than that for me. I was lost, and for the first time, I felt abandoned. Not unwanted, because I knew it wasn't that she didn't love me. But abandoned, cast aside. I wrote to Santa about her."
Here, Rinoa thought, sitting up a little straighter. Here was the source of all that bottled-up misery, the resentment. The reason he hates Christmas. "You asked Santa?"
"I stole paper from Matron, and a stamp, and I wrote a letter to Santa Claus, addressed it to the North Pole. I told him I'd been good that year, and I asked him to bring Sis back to me." His voice didn't choke, didn't break, and despite the tightness of his throat, didn't catch. "I wrote to him for years, and every year on Christmas morning I faced the same disappointment, because it never came true. By the time I left for Balamb Garden to start training, I'd stopped writing, because I'd stopped believing. Santa Claus was no more real than Pupu, I thought, or Griever, or any of the mythical beasts in the stories Matron used to tell us. Santa Claus didn't make your dreams come true, and Christmas was nothing but a lie, a heartbreak, a time of misery and shattered hopes."
Rinoa wanted to hug him, just squeeze him until the desolation flowed out of him as easily as the tears that sparkled on her cheeks. "Oh, Squall. You were so young."
"Age had nothing to do with it." He moved his shoulders. "Christmas hurt me, more than anything in my entire life. And so I hated it. I hated it as a defense mechanism, built up the walls to protect myself against it, and I told myself it didn't matter, it didn't mean anything. Told myself it was stupid and pointless, just another day in an endless string of days. And every year I had to pretend not to know I was lying to myself, and that Christmas meant more to me than anything."
The tears were flowing faster now. Rinoa wiped the heel of her palm over her face. "You tried to hide?"
It grated on him, but Squall nodded. "Denial, anger, depression, despair. The seven stages of grief, isn't it?" He pretended not to notice the shock on Rinoa's face that he would know something like that. He tried not to care about the prescribed order of things as frivolous as the recovery stages of grief and loss and that nonsense. "But things change. Things changed for me."
Rinoa let the silence lengthen, stretch as pliable as Shumi elastic putty, until a smile touched her lips. "Pupu is real," she said at length. "And so is Griever."
"And so is Christmas." Squall scooted up in the tub so he could meet her eyes. "I told you earlier I had something to tell you. I had to tell you all this first, get it out of the way, but I'm ready to tell you now." She gave a barely perceptible nod, her heart skipping in her chest. The way his eyes held hers, midnight sapphires speaking of truth and secrets, had her holding her breath.
"Things changed," he repeated. "You changed them for me. You make Christmas real. You said there's magic at Christmas, and I still don't want to believe it. There's too much there for me to say, yeah, sure, magic. Santa Claus, dreams come true, that innocent trust that your hopes will never go unfulfilled. Magic at Christmas isn't something that's just out there, like a spell you can draw. For me, magic at Christmas is you." He watched the tears flood her eyes, watched them spill over like beauty. "You're Christmas to me, Rinoa. You're everything I'd ever wanted at Christmas. You're my Christmas wish."
"Squall." His name was choked, a desperate anchor Rinoa clung to as she repeated it, over and over. Water sloshed as he wrapped his arms around her, held her tight. He didn't cry, but stroked her hair as her tears slid over his skin, a healing balm on scars unseen by the naked eye.
When her tears abated, Squall shifted, standing with her in his arms. He strode out of the bathroom, ignoring the wet he tracked across the plush carpet, and took her to bed. Here, in the room that smelled of cinnamon and pine trees, they loved in the flickering glow of countless candles. This, Squall thought as Rinoa moved over him, this was real. This was hope.
Afterwards, they lay cuddled together in the rumpled sheets. Rinoa's robe lay in a discarded tangle at her feet, and the fancy lingerie she'd had on underneath lay in tatters on the floor. Squall drowsed, his arms around her, basking in the warmth.
Rinoa shifted so she could look down at him, propped on her elbows. He looked so content, she thought, and reluctantly poked his shoulder. "Squall, open your eyes." He mumbled in protest, arms tightening as he tried to draw her closer and shush her words. She had to smile at that. Under normal circumstances, she'd have let him quiet her with a little cuddle, but not today. Not tonight. "Squall, I'm serious."
On a stifled groan, he opened one eye, blearily. "I'm sleeping here, Princess."
"Wake up." She poked him again, harder, and giggled as he scowled, opening both eyes. The expression in them was sleepy satisfaction, drowsy pleasure, but she had to get this out. "I told you I had another Christmas present to give you, remember?"
He vaguely remembered, though it seemed like years ago that they'd exchanged gifts in General Caraway's house that morning. Just that morning. His grin was wicked. "Didn't I just get my Christmas gift?" He shifted to peer over the edge at the bed at the ripped lace and silk. "I think I destroyed it."
Rinoa laughed, amused despite herself at the smug tone of his voice. "No, that wasn't it. Well, maybe that was part of it. But there's more."
His eyebrow winged up, and his hands roamed over her body. Warmth infused his voice. "There's more? You'll have to give me a minute here, then, to catch my breath."
She slapped his hands away. Squall would keep going all night long if she let him, she thought, both amused and aroused. "Hands off a minute, would you?" She huffed out a breath as he subsided, watching her. Embarrassment moved through her as she sought the words. No matter how many times she'd practiced in her head, nothing sounded quite right. "You told me, earlier, you told me that I was your Christmas. Your Christmas wish."
"That's right." Curious now, intrigued, Squall cocked his head. "You don't like?"
Her cheeks pinked. "No, I like it just fine. I like it a lot. And I…I want to reciprocate."
He blinked. "You aren't putting me in bows and ribbons."
The mental image had her choking back a giggle. "I think I'm good. I've already seen you in a dress." His scowl was instant and heartfelt, and Rinoa couldn't hold back the laugh. "I'll stop. I have a Christmas present to give you, Commander, but it's not something wrapped in paper and ribbon. Not something you can see. I want to give it to you in the true spirit of giving, and I want you to accept it the same. It's the thought that counts."
Squall, sensing the seriousness of the matter, eased back against the pillows, scowl fading. Rinoa's eyes were dark, focused on his, and she nibbled at her bottom lip the way she did when she was really concentrating. "All right."
"All right." Rinoa sucked in a breath, let it out. She pressed her hand against his heart, feeling it beat steady and sure beneath her palm. Her eyes never wavered from his. "I want to give you a present, Squall. Just these words, and I want you to believe in it with everything you have. Everything you are."
"Words."
She nodded once, brought his hand to her heart, so he could feel the synchronized beating of their hearts. Pressed his palm against her chest so he would know her heart beat for him. "I'd thought about this for a long time, but things have changed since you told me…since you just told me about your Christmas memories. So instead I'll just say this."
She sucked in a breath, smiled at him. "I want to give you a promise, Squall. A promise for Christmas. I promise to be your Christmas wish and every dream come true. Every year, for as long as you want me. For as long as you'll have me." For the rest of my life. 'Til death do us part.
Something shivered through him, more than love, bigger than hope. Something that had tears rising against the backs of his eyes so they pulsed, hot and threatening. A Christmas promise. His Christmas wish. His dream come true.
He slid his arms around her, held her close, and let the tears fall. "You're everything I've ever wanted, Rinoa. Everything I never knew I wanted." He buried his face in her hair. For the rest of my life. Until the day that I die. "You're my Christmas, Rinoa. You're my everything."
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, held him close, blinking tears out of her eyes. "I can't go back in time," she murmured. "I can't change all the bad that happened to you. I can't erase the hurt, but I can balance it. From now on, Squall, Christmas is for you and me." She met his eyes, smiled a little. "From now on, Christmas will be good."
Magical. Squall's lips curved in response to hers. "All right," he agreed. "From now on." Starting today, he thought. Starting now. For her, he'd suffer through Christmas shopping and Christmas carols, tinsel and parades. But…"One thing," he cautioned, serious as she lifted an eyebrow. "Next year, you can be Mrs. Claus."
Rinoa's laugh pealed out, delighted. She let Squall roll her under him, and they made love as the distant city clock chimed midnight, and the end of Christmas.
I promise, Squall. I promise.
Merry Christmas.
~7.23.10