A/N: For reference... read the last chapter again!

11. Passive Resistance

"He... gave me a ring," she whispered, her voice failing her completely as though she'd just realized it herself.

"I see that," Squall croaked weakly, unsure if he was still breathing properly.

This must have been what panic felt like. Squall was in unfamiliar territory, unsure when, if ever, he'd experienced an assortment of emotions quite like this.

"He... he asked you to marry him?" he continued. It was patently evident that his subconsciousness had decided that Squall hadn't endured quite enough discomfort, if the unnecessary inquiry was any indication.

Rinoa blinked rapidly, unable to peel her eyes from the gaudy adornment on her hand. "More like he told me. I mean... one minute he was practically groveling at my feet for forgiveness, and the next... he's shoving this..." she paused, fumbling for a word to capture the appropriate emphasis she felt, "...this... this mammoth monstrosity on my finger, kissing my cheek, telling me we're getting married, and then flying out the door again. I didn't even hear where he was going..."

"So... you didn't say yes?" He almost winced at the question that tumbled from his traitorous mouth. Stupid, needless queries seemed all he was capable of for the time being.

Clearly, her flat look implied that she concurred. "I didn't say anything. I just... stared at it after he split for Christ knows how long, and then walked over here." Her eyes drifted back toward her hand. "I can't even figure out how he paid for this, let alone why he felt compelled to propose to me after what happened yesterday."

Squall just nodded stiffly, unsure if it was wise to open his mouth at this point. She hadn't said yes, particularly, but the fact that she was wearing the ring, and that Jax had stunned the both of them with this spectacle was leaving a foul taste in his mouth. His head was spinning, endorphins and lingering flashes of the night before racing through his mind, only to be darkened by the knot that was forming itself in his gut at the bizarre turn of events.

Rinoa took notice, finally tearing herself back into focus. "Squall?"

"Squall, hon, you don't look so good," Selphie chimed in as she returned to the bar. "You alright? You need to go sit in the cooler for a while?"

His jaw tensed to the point he realized he was grinding his teeth, Squall forced the muscles to loosen and merely nodded in a brief, erratic motion. "Yeah."

Rinoa promptly slid off the stool, her lungs tightening with sudden anxiety, and made to follow him as he walked determinately to the metal door just off to the side of the bottle racks that lined the back of the bar. Sliding in just behind him, a nick before the door closed, she offhandedly noticed the room was merely a chilled closet. There was enough room to maneuver, but just barely, crates of perishable items, champagne and blush wines all stacked along the walls.

Squall sat upon a few empty, overturned milk crates, looking hard at the concrete floor.

Drawing in a shaking breath, she slinked down into a squat so that she might meet his eyes for the impending conversation.

But what conversation? The fact was, neither of them could find an appropriate thing to say. Or anything even resembling appropriate. The situation was fucked up, and there were no two ways about that. Anything that came from either of them at this point was doomed to be unpleasant; hopeless, or laced with accusation, guilt, or something equally abrasive.

"I can't find a reason to regret it."

The words that fell from Squall's lips were unexpected, to say the least, and the way his brow was furrowed in confusion made it clear that he hadn't expected his own response, either.

Looking up from the floor, he brought his ice blue eyes to greet her intent gaze, dark with unformed questions, and heaved a frustrated sigh, steam wafting forth to be helplessly flanked by frigid air.

"I know you're in a relationship, and what we did last night was purely fuck-all cheating in its most..." he began, pausing with a gesture of his hand as if grasping for the right word, "...visceral form, and I should feel bad. We both should."

She could only nod her agreement, the movement slow as molasses. "We should."

"But I don't." He licked his lips, and waited a short pause for her to say something, before deciding he didn't want to let her yet. It wasn't fair, but he wasn't sure he was ready to hear her admit her remorse before she'd heard his testimony. "We're both guilty here, but... why do I feel like I didn't do anything wrong?" He slid his fingers hastily through his hair, a telltale tick of nervousness. He felt like his insides were in a vise. "The only thing I regret is that... that pitiful fuck has done nothing but fuck me over time and again for as long as I've known him, and I've just let him do it over and over-"

"Wait, wait," she interrupted, putting her hands up in front of her, the cold air in the freezer causing them to shake. "It almost sounds like you're telling me that this is some kind of vindication for you. Was this..." she paused to swallow, "was this out of revenge on Jax?"

The tone of her voice caused a sharp stab to strike right through the center of his chest. There was an undertone of anger, certainly, but more heartbreaking was the empathy in the question. In spite of the position this put her in if her question was true, this girl was trying to put herself in his shoes and ask instead of tossing out accusations and conclusions. What beauty she possessed, what soul, regardless of her missteps.

"No," he breathed weakly, reverently. He cleared his throat and spoke a decibel louder. "Rin, no. It's not that at all. I didn't finish was I was saying."

Letting her hands fall, she bowed her head slightly in penitence. "I'm sorry. Please..."

"He's a bastard, Rinoa, and you know that," he immediately continued. "Yeah, it's true that he's taken and taken from me, and I've just given and fuckin' given, all without complaint. You're not mine, and I know that, but... I feel like..." His voice drifted as he tried to formulate a coherent way to phrase the racing thoughts that had cluttered his mind since she'd walked in that first day with Jax. "I feel like he doesn't deserve what he has, and I'm not sure I can keep from complaining this time." His eyes bore into hers with gravity, his meaning unquestionable.

Lips parting, the steam from her breath was in errant pattern, shaking. Her eyes lifted to stare at the stack of crates behind him. "I can't just tell him outright. But I don't know if I can lie to him, either."

Her voice was colored with defeat, and the sound was terrifying to both of them.

"You can't marry him," Squall replied, reflecting her tone.

It wasn't easy to discern if it was a demand or a plea, and her eyes dropped back down to meet his. Only he'd let his own gaze fall back to the floor beneath her feet. She intended to ask him to clarify that statement, but was interrupted by the door opening, followed by Selphie peeking inside.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Irvy just walked in. Better come out before he sees the both of you in here and, er... makes any assumptions. Last time he thought someone did it in the cooler, I got stuck with disinfecting the whole damn place. Quick, while he's in the office."

Cursing under her breath, Rinoa gave a lingering look toward Squall and stood to her full height. Shuffling toward the door as Selphie disappeared from view, she wrapped her cold hand around the frozen steel handle on the door, and spoke again, her eyes ahead. "I don't feel bad, either, for whatever that's worth."

With that, she left the bar, the lack of resolution reverberating throughout the newly formed hollowness that had taken up residence inside the both of them.

"It's her own fault."

It was so hard to take Irvine seriously in that hat. God damn.

"I know that."

"So why are you here?"

"Can't a guy get a beer at his friend's bar?"

"But you have your own bar, and it's full of beer you've already paid for."

Damn his logical... scheming.

"Irvine," Seifer grunted, his eyes staring flatly at the wannabe cowboy's cocky expression. "I don't want to be there tonight. Nida's running the place. Just... be a goddamn bartender tonight, huh?"

The smirk melting from his lips, Irvine took a moment to consider his friend's obvious distress. "Do you think she's fuckin' around?"

"Jesus, Irvine," the blond groaned, letting his open hand smack loudly against the bar. "You have a real way with tact."

Irvine shrugged, lifting his hand in a show of innocence as the other pushed a beer toward his friend. "Tact gets you nowhere, man. Bluntness and honesty keep the world turning. I'm nothin' if not genuine."

"Then explain that hat," Seifer returned into the mouth of the beer bottle, lifting an eyebrow. The brew was cold, the first pleasant sensation he'd experienced all day as he swallowed down a hefty pull.

Irvine narrowed his eyes. "There's nothing wrong with my hat. Quit tryin' to dodge the subject. Is your wife screwing someone else?"

Sighing, the blond set down the bottle and spared a glance toward an approaching figure beside Irvine, noticing Squall for the first time that evening. The way his blue eyes darted back and forth between the two of them told Seifer that he'd probably heard Irvine's forthright inquiry. The discomfort on his face was unmistakable.

"I was... coming to say hello," Squall began, his eyes dropping and suddenly anywhere but on Seifer. "But I'm getting the impression it's a bad time for idle chat."

"Quistis," Irvine volunteered. Hey, they were all friends, right? "Working late. Late late, if you know what I mean. I think she's up to somethin'. Or someone."

"Thanks, Irvine," Seifer muttered, wrapping a hand around his beer bottle and rolling his eyes. "Your discretion is staggering."

"What discretion?" the cowboy replied, blinking. "I don't believe in that shit, either."

Squall's expression became visibly more tense, if Seifer could read anything from it, and he took a moment to guzzle down the rest of the bottle before finally drawing in a breath to speak again. "I don't know if it's that. She's always been this way. At some time or another. She gets fixated, and it's to the point where I start feeling like she's avoiding something. Avoiding me. Avoiding life." Pursing his lips and looking away for a moment to fight off a swell of unwelcome emotion, he continued again, slowly. "I suppose it's not unlikely she'd be unfaithful. If it's escapism she wants, why not that way, too?"

Raising his eyes back to Squall, Seifer saw turmoil there, and he couldn't discern if it was empathy or... guilt.

"Have you asked her?" Irvine piped up as he glanced over a ticket with a drink order, oblivious to the sudden tension between the two other men. "I mean, sure, she might lie, but at least you're still being honest about your thoughts. Besides, you know her better than anyone else. Maybe you'll know if she's lying."

"Sorry to hear all of this, man," Squall said suddenly, before Seifer had a chance to respond. "Let me know if I can do anything. I gotta go take care of an order right now, though."

Now that was certainly odd. It wasn't uncommon for Squall to be a little distant at times, even antisocial to a degree, but he'd always been one of the most reliable friends Seifer had ever known. Hell, he'd put up with Jax's shit more than anyone ever should have.

The blond didn't want to admit that he didn't like the direction his thoughts were leading him. He was too emotional, still reeling from his brief conversation with Quistis earlier too make an objective judgment about what the reality of the situation was likely to be. From here it looked like the issue of infidelity made Squall profoundly uncomfortable.

"No, but maybe I will," he finally answered, paying lip service for the moment more than anything, his focus on watching Squall as he hastily made his way to the other end of the bar and started assembling a collection of glasses for his next drink order. Clenching his jaw, he turned back to Irvine. "Thanks for the beer. I gotta get outta here. What do I owe you?"

Irvine paused from pouring green liqueur into a martini glass and skeptically assessed his friend for a moment. "On the house."

"Thanks," was all he muttered as he walked out, sparing one last glance at Squall before he went, in enough time to see Squall turn away before meeting his eyes.

A/N: Um... so yeah, it's been almost two years since I updated. Like I said... hell or highwater, I'm finishing this damn story even if it's going to take another five years to do it. Hopefully it won't. Not sure I have ANY readers left that have been with me since the beginning, but if you're out there... you're champs.