Uh oh, I got slightly bored with the other story, so I’m waiting for some inspiration to come back before/if I finish it. To anyone who was really into that, if you’d like I can put up the rest of what I have written to crit, but I probably wont be doing any serious work on it for a little while. :too bad;
Anyway. I started another one… No flashbacks this time 
Let me know what you think.
“Bitch.”
The voice came strangely without heat or anger, but the man was breathing hard. She could smell his sweat, rank in her nostrils. She could also smell blood, but she payed that no mind. It was her own, and she’d smelled it many times before.
She glared up at him, anger blazing from a pair of dark eyes. However, she did not move, afraid of provoking him further.
Apparently silence wasn’t the answer, and her neck snapped to the side as he backhanded her roughly. She closed her eyes, trying to suppress the rage leaping through her blood. The frigid winter air bit at her exposed skin, but she refused to shiver.
She could kill him; it would be too easy…
You could, child.
She shook her head slightly, trying to negate the silky voice in her head.
I have no knight. Her thoughts were bleak and desolate. I’ll have no control if I let go.
Exactly child… Wouldn’t it be fun? You wouldn’t have to play whore to the Galbadian army—
“Shut up!!” She screamed aloud. The man holding her looked startled at her outburst, but his hold on her neck remained steady.
“Who th’hell y’talkin’ to?” He growled at her, increasing the pressure. She gasped for air, eyes open wide again.
“My…self…” She choked out. The man’s eyes narrowed in speculation and he raised his hand again.
This time Rinoa went willingly into the dark.
~*~
Squall reeled back, dropping the Lionheart and grabbing at his arm. He fell to his knees and looked up at his attacker.
Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He’d be dead… like Rinoa.
The name alone made him moan in grief, and he drew into himself. He didn’t care if he died now. Maybe he’d have a chance to see her again…
“You’re pathetic, Leonhart. Look at you. Your girlfriend is gone, and you fall to pieces. There are a million others in the world. Move on with your life. I had to when she left me, and I managed just fine. In fact, look at me. I’m in the middle of kicking the mighty Squall Leonhart’s ass right now.”
A gunshot echoed across the plains, striking the other man in the shoulder and knocking him backwards onto the ground. He grunted, surprised. He could have sworn the commander was alone on the plains, just waiting to have some sense knocked into him. He should have known the rest of his groupies would be somewhere near by.
Irvine stood a few hundred yards back, Exeter trained on the assailant. Zell materialized behind the wounded commander and hoisted him to his feet. Blood flowed freely from the slash in Squall’s right arm, soaking into his own clothing.
“This is getting bad, Squall.” Zell’s voice was flat. Quistis stepped up next, and shook her head, looking at the man who had once been strong enough to take on the world. Now even Seifer was able to get the upper hand. She glanced dispassionately at the blond man, who was gasping on the ground.
“I should just leave you here,” Quistis leaned down and picked up the Hyperion, stabbing it into the grass as hard as she could. “You’ve caused enough problems that you warrant a death like this.”
Seifer smirked at his old instructor. It was an ugly face.
“You could, but you wont. I know you, Trepe.”
“Do you now?” The blond woman yanked a coil of rope free from her belt. “The only reason I’m not going to leave you here to die is because that would be a pleasant death compared to what we have in mind for you.”
~*~
“Why did you shoot him?” Squall’s voice was raspy, and Irvine passed a glass of water across to the table beside the bed. Squall flicked his eyes toward it, but made no move to reach for the glass. His hands were shaking so badly that he would probably drop it. This had been an irritatingly frequent occurance lately.
“If you honestly thought we were going to stand around scratching our asses while Seifer mangled you…!” It was Quistis who answered. “You have a very low opinion of us.”
Squall grunted, turning his head away from his company. Of course they wont let you die. They’re your friends.
“I want to die.” He muttered into the pillow. The coarse hospital linens scraped at his skin, and he could smell the bleach used to clean them.
“What?” Irvine asked, frowning. The bedclothes rustled as Squall shifted back to face the SeeDs.
“Go away.” Squall looked over Irvine’s shoulder, towards the door.
Irvine opened his mouth to say something, but Squall simply closed his eyes and looked away. He was so sick of being asked whether or not he was ‘okay’. He supposed it would have been fine if they were asking after his injury, but he knew it was his mental state they were referring to. Not like the injury wasn’t an embarassment either.
A moment later, two chairs scraped back, and he could hear both Irvine’s boots, and Quistis’ heels click on the tile as they left the room. The heavy door swung shut, and he was alone.
He sat up slightly, allowing the yellow wool to slide away from his chest and shoulders. The bandage on his right arm was hot and itchy, and he could feel the blood pounding through his veins. The plastic bag hooked up to his wrist seemed to be doing little to help. He didn’t recognise the label on the bag as a painkiller or a sedative, and wondered for a moment what it was. Fantastic, Leonhart. You do realize that you know the name of almost every kind of painkiller on the planet? What an accomplishment. Maybe you shouldn’t get so used to them.
The thought was tempting, however. Drifting away in a fog seemed about the right way to go. No drama, no fireworks. Very like him.
He sighed and lay back again, staring up at the ceiling. Breathing deeply, he tried to clear his mind. However, deep down he knew it was no use. No matter how hard he tried to force her out of his mind, she was all he could think about. Damn her eyes. She haunted his mind, his thoughts, his dreams.
You fucked it up Squall," he forced his words out from between clenched teeth. The beeping on the heart monitor was becoming faster, but he paid it no mind. “You lost her… She trusted you to save her and you couldn’t. You’re nothing but a miserable damned failure!” He berated himself relentlessly. He was gasping for air, and white noise began to creep into the field of his vision, narrowing it to a point. Blood roared in his ears, and the bile rose in his throat. He threw his upper body over the endge of the bed and was sick.
Footsteps came rushing down the hall in response to an alarm from the small machine monitoring Squall’s heart rate. The door burst open, and several doctors surrounded the bed, trying to calm him down.
“He’s having an attack,” one of them said, oddly calm. A woman in glasses leaned over and grabbed Squall’s good shoulder.
“Squall. Squall Leonhart. Listen to me! You have to calm down or you’re going to go into cardiac arrest. Squall!” Dr. Kadowaki heaved back, trying to get the young man to relax. It was no use. His muscles were rock hard, and sweat was beginning to pour down his body. “Please Squall, you need to calm down!” His skin was twitching under her fingers, and he was very cold.
She thumbed his eyelid back, but only white expanse greeted her. Alarmed, the doctor turned and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a hypodermic syringe and a small glass bottle. She jabbed the needle in through the hole in the top and pulled, filling it as full as she dared. Then she withdrew the needle and flicked out the air bubbles, before plunging it into Squall’s left arm.
Almost immediately, his heart rate began to slow. The drug sped through his bloodstream, relaxing his muscles and forcing his body to resume its normal activities.
Dr. Kadowaki gently pushed him back down on the bed. He clumsily grabbed for the blanket, pulling it back up to his chin with typical modesty. His eyes were shut tight, but the older woman could see the tears that were trembling in his eyelashes. She turned to the medical team.
“I’ll take over from here. Return to your positions please.”
She waited until the door swung closed before she sat down beside the bed.
“Squall. Can you tell me what’s bothering you?” She asked, hoping the drug she had administered hadn’t yet put him to sleep.
Squall shifted, bringing up the heel of one calloused hand to rub his eyes.
“I couldn’t save her,” he whispered. Then he turned his back to her, effectively ending the conversation.
Nothing to really fault in this one, except for the 2nd paragraph where “payed” should really be “paid”. Otherwise, this looks good for a small “distraction” story. Good description, plenty going on, you get under Squall’s skin nicely too. I await more!
Situations can always change the way things get characterized, so I look forward to seeing how things have developed to this point. And it sounds like everyone’s explanations are going to be interesting!