C&C is welcomed -- nay, begged for. I don't know if anyone here has
finished the game, but this story is a /major/ spoiler for Final Fantasy
8; it takes place during the game's ending. I have tinkered with the
dialogue a great deal. I don't think that this conveys what I'm trying to
convey at all, on critical reading, so I'm posting it here in hopes that
someone will be able to help me out with it. I own nothing, Squaresoft
owns everything, please don't sue me, etc, etc.

--=--


				The Measure of My Dreams

I took shelter from a shower, and I stepped into your arms
On a rainy night in Soho, the wind was whistling all its charms
I sang you all my sorrows, you told me all your joys
Whatever happened to that old song, to all those little girls and boys?
Now the song is nearly over; we may never find out what it means
But there's a light I hold before me, and you're the measure of my dreams.
				-- The Pogues
					"Rainy Night in Soho"



	The ground beneath his boots was cracked and broken, and he could
no longer recall which direction he had come from.


	The little boy stood in the rain, looking out across the ocean; he
could feel the soft kiss of the water against his face, but he didn't care
that he was getting wet. For some reason, he liked the rain. The secret
part of himself, hidden away deep inside, thought that maybe if the sky
was crying, he wouldn't have to. And he hated to cry; crying wasn't that
bad when you had someone to hold you and take care of you, but he didn't
have anyone left. Not since Sis had gone. There were the others in the
orphanage, of course, but it wasn't the same. None of them had taken care
of him like Sis had. Matron was there, but Matron was different. Weird.
	(Someone was standing there and watching him) 


	 /i dissolve into nothingness and re-form as a column of water
snaking through the air with a sinuous grace the air feels cool against my
body of liquid as i surmount the rock and coil atop it to release the
wrath of my anger to pour out upon the earth and wash all enemies clean
with the power of me and i am a thousand droplets of individuality with no
cohesion holding me to my self until the waters recede and i am left with
the taste of the river in my mouth and my skin damp wondering who i really
am after all/


Who are you?
        I ... I don't know. I don't ...
    If you don't know who you are, you'll never be able to return.
        Return? Return where? I'm not -- I'm supposed to be --
    Just watch. You need to know how this all happened.


	The young man held an unfamiliar weapon in his hand as he stood in
the practice grounds, his stance textbook-perfect. He knew that he needed
to be better, to be stronger, to be able to support himself. He knew that
there was no one to take care of him; there was no one left but himself.
Matron's husband was in charge of this place, that much he knew, but he
didn't trust that, not after Matron had changed. He didn't know what had
happened, but it had proven to him once more that he couldn't rely on
anyone. He brought the blade around in a short circle, testing its weight,
his face set in a determined expression. He would be the best. And then
he'd never have to worry about being left alone ever again.
	(Someone was standing there and watching him)


    /i dissolve into nothingness and re-form as a shape of fire that
summons a sphere of roiling molten lava lifts it to the heavens and draws
back an arm the muscles ripple as i send the meteor crashing to earth to
smite my enemies and cauterize them from the face of the planet and i am a
thousand tongues of flame with no cohesion until the hot dry burning wind
subsides and i am left with the scent of burning flesh in my nostrils and
my skin warm wondering where i really am after all/


Where are you?
        I ... Am I ... dead? Is this all that's left?
    If you don't know where you are, you won't be able to find your way.
        My way? What do you mean, my way?
You'll have to answer that question for yourself.
        Look, I'm getting tired of this place! Why can't I see anything?
You can see what you remember.
        Remember? I don't -- I can't --
    This is why.
        Who /are/ you! Goddamn it --
The better question is, who are you.



	The young man stood in the small double room looking down at his
clothing in the drawer beneath him. A small, insignificant pain nagged
through his temples as he folded the last of his cadet uniforms and stowed
them neatly away; he moved some of his 'civilian' clothing out of the way
to make more room. He frowned as he picked up a ragged old pair of
sweatpants, many sizes too small; why had he saved them? He felt no
particular emotional attachment to them. Perhaps they had been a gift from
someone, long ago ... but from whom? He couldn't quite remember anyone who
would have given him a gift. The other children back at the ... at the ...
at the /orphanage/ had never had anything to give as gifts, and the woman
who had taken care of them -- what had they called her, Mother? Ma'am?
Well, she had dressed them in different clothing, hadn't she? ...He
couldn't remember. With a little frown between his eyebrows, he tossed the
outgrown pair of pants into the corner. He would give them to the Garden
staff, for cutting up into rags. He had his cadet uniform, and that was
nearly all he needed.
	(Someone was standing there and watching him)


    /i dissolve into nothingness and re-form as a thousand night-clad bats
that swirl together in the mid-sky to join into one dark-winged form that
holds the entirety of space and time in his hands marked with
incomprehensible symbols the fabric of the world distorts as i unleash the
weight of time upon my enemies and pull them like taffy into shapes that
are not their own and i am a thousand raven messengers flying apart with
no cohesion and i am left with the weight of the earth upon my back and
the feeling of years pressing in upon me wondering if this is real or if
this is the dream/


        Wait! Where ... where did you go?
    Why do you wish for me to remain?
        You know what's going on. I ... I want some answers...
You know the answers already. You just need to remember them.
        Why are you /doing/ this to me! All I want to do is get home!
Do you? Where is home?
        Back at the Garden ... back with my friends, and with ...
    With?
        All right, damn you! With Rinoa!
Was that so hard to say?
        

	The new arrival to the Garden looked at him strangely, as if
trying to figure something out. He ignored the blond boy and continued his
workout. 
	"Squall?" the other young man finally asked, almost hesitantly.
"Squall, is that you?"
	He turned his head, a bit impatiently; how had the boy known his
name? "Squall?" the other boy continued, stepping forward. "It's Zell.
Don't you recognize me? Man, I know I've changed, but I didn't think I'd
changed that much..."
	He shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone named Zell," he
said, briefly, before going back to his swordwork. not realizing that his
forgetting was complete.

	/i dissolve into nothingness and re-form as a shard of purest
ice.../

		Rinoa! 

	/...sweep through the sky my dragon-voice lifted in a scream.../

		Irvine! Zell! 

	/...and i am a thousand bits of ground raining down with no
cohesion.../

		Quistis! Selphie!

	/...left with the crackle of the lightning on skin and the sense
of emptiness wondering just why i need to do this after all.../

		RINOA!

	/... the tears hot against my cheeks and the terrible sense that a
part of my mind has been taken from me leaving nothing in its place/

									*

	The little boy looked up at him with hauntingly familiar eyes.
"Are you here to see Matron?"
	Squall shook his head a little, feeling a terrible sense of deja
vu -- he remembered this, somehow, standing in the courtyard of the
orphanage, looking up at the strange, scary, silent man, clad in leather
and fur, the angry scar across his face -- but he remembered it from the
other side, that of the young boy, and not the man he had become. "I -- I
think I've gotten lost," he said, his voice sounding strange in his ears.
	A brief tattoo of bootheels sounded across the flagstones, and the
slender woman hurried across the courtyard, to protect the threat she
sensed against one of her children. "Can I help you?" she asked, her eyes
sharp on Squall's face, as she gathered the child against her side
protectively.
	Squall could not move, as the sight of her face unlocked a
thousand doors that he had not even known existed; images of her, of the
other children, of the orphanage, of their daily lives playing and running
and shouting... "Matron," he said, almost inaudibly.
	The expression on her face changed, becoming one of shock and
dawning suspicion. "Squall," she said, kneeling down to the child by her
side, noticing how the young man also started, "run along and play; go
find the others. I don't think you should be here."
	The boy looked at her with sober eyes and nodded, then sneaked a
look back at the young man. "Who is he?" he whispered to Edea.
	She shook her head. "I'm not sure," she said, "but I need to talk
to him."
	The boy nodded again, and then turned to run off. When he was
halfway across the flagstones, he turned and looked at the young man,
piercingly, before slipping through the pillars and disappearing. Edea
stood, turning to Squall and cocking her head to one side. "You aren't
from here and now," she said, flatly. It wasn't a statement.
	He shook his head. "No. No, I'm not -- I'm lost, in time
compression -- I'm trying to get back home --"
	Her voice was firm. "You can't stay here. It's not safe for you,
and it's not safe for the children. Time is not something that is safe to
play with. Where is your home?"
	Squall's eyebrows drew together again, and he frowned once more,
but answered before he really thought about it. "I'm a SeeD from Balamb
Garden."
	"SeeD? Garden?" Edea's face was puzzled as she lifted a hand to
brush hair out of her eyes. "What are those?"
	He cocked his head, looking at her. "They were your ideas," he
answered, a bit helplessly. "Garden trains SeeDs. SeeDs fight the
sorceress. It was --"
	She interrupted him. "No! No more; I cannot know what happens!
Don't you understand?" Her eyes flashed briefly at him. "You aren't in
your own time. This is dangerous -- you know what's going to happen, and
that has the potential to change what must happen. If you change that, you
very well may destroy the world that you knew, and replace it with
something else." She stepped forward. "Do you understand me?"
	Just as he was about to answer, he felt it -- a strange stirring
of the nerves, the hair on the back of his head standing up. They both
turned, in unison, to see the figure of Ultimecia, battered and bloody,
crumpled on the ground; she pushed herself to her knees, then to her feet,
swaying and barely able to hold herself upwards. Squall swore; not again,
no more, hadn't he done enough? With a quick motion, his sword was out,
and he was standing in between Ultimecia and Edea, guarding her...
	"No," came the quiet voice from behind him, and Edea stepped
forward, her hand outstretched; she looked back at Squall, peacefully.
"She's no threat. She is a sorceress, and she is looking to die in peace;
a sorceress must pass on her powers before she may rest. I know this,
because I -- I am a sorceress as well."
	Squall shook his head. "Matron, get away from her! You don't know
who --" But his voice caught in his throat, and he could not speak. /He/
knew what would happen, yes; she did not. But if Ultimecia did not pass on
her powers to Edea now, would Edea have been the threat she had been, in
his time? And if Edea had not led them to her, he and his friends would
never have known of Ultimecia, would never have had the strength to combat
her, and so Ultimecia would not have been stopped, and the world would
have ended, and more importantly, Ultimecia would not be here now to pass
her powers on to Edea -- and she /was/ here, and he had just defeated
her...
	He lifted a hand to his head, pressing it against his temple,
which spiked with pain, and could not do anything but stand and watch as
the woman who had raised him stepped forward and took the first step
towards becoming a monster.

									*

		What ... was that?
It was something that had to happen. 
		But I -- I was there, and it happened like that, but if --
	Don't think about it; it will make your head hurt.
		What now? I -- I want to go home...
You will. Just keep walking, and find the way.
		But I can't -- I'm lost --
	You will find your way. Rinoa is waiting for you.
		She is... Who /are/ you?
Don't you know, Squall?
								I am you.