The FF VIII Fanfic

PuPu's SagaÓ :

“Un homme et une jeune fille sur une plage” Ó

by Jeremy ChapterÔ ( jeremy_chapter@yahoo.com)

"Such a little man could not have made so big a depression."

-Norman Thomas

Synopsis: Explores the esoteric alien side-quest in FF8, picking up just where the game ends. A tale of love, mystery, deception, betrayals, murders, and the SeeDs greatest challenge yet – to stop a war threatening the end of all Terra!
PuPu's SagaÓ :

“Un homme et une jeune fille sur une plage” Ó

by Jeremy ChapterÔ ( jeremy_chapter@yahoo.com)

“I am a part of all that I have met;

Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’

Gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades

For ever and for ever when I move.”

-Tennyson, Alfred Lord

Ulysses 18

Dramatis Persona Hominis

Laguna

Raine

Kiros

Ward

Ellone

Cid

Edea

Quistis

Zell

Irvine

Selphie

Squall

Rinoa

Match

Mina Charleston

Merali

Pearl

Sujie

Jay, Sergeant

Zen, Ph. D. & J. D.

Seifer

Fuujin

Raijin

Jeremy Chapter

Rishi

Lily Furgle

Cary Kay

Darby LeBard

Arienne

Eris

Faeyre

Caraway, General

Dr. Odine

Dr. Kadowaki

Julia

Author's Extended Foreword:

“I think they love not Art

Who break the crystal of a poet’s heart

That small and sickly eyes may glare or gloat.”

-Wilde, Oscar

De Profundis

Disclaimer to save my own ass: Every element belongs to Squaresoft, Inc., not to me, unless I made it up.

If you would like to put PuPu’s Saga Ó : “Un homme et une jeune fille sur une plage” Ó up on your website, feel free to copy and paste from whatever url you are engaging this story, or ask me to email it to you as html-ized email attachments, three settings at a time. In either case, please inform me prior to taking the story so that I may give you my written consent to use it and that I may be mindful to send you the new installment chapters as I finish them.

This fanfiction picks up right where the game ends. If it interferes chronologically with any other fanfic, just treat the celebration at the beginning of the story as some other party that Balamb Garden throws after Squall goes through Time Compression again to kill some other sorceress named Ultimecia during which Rinoa kisses Squall one more time because they both see another shooting star, and during which Laguna, Ward, Kiros, and Ellone all just happen to be in Winhill visiting Raine's grave a second time. If you know already who Laguna’s son is, then Setting 1 is not essential to the plot and can be skipped. This fanfic has many allusions to Final Fantasy VIII and IX, some of which are pretty profound. Those that have not explored the world of Final Fantasy VIII as thoroughly as others might miss some subtle clues while those that have explored the world too thoroughly can guess half the plot out right. Stuff that I made up wasn’t meant to be corny, corny as they may be. The reading may be slow until the tempo picks up in Setting 11 or so. Skipping straightway to Setting 11 would pass over many of the hints about the game or foreshadowing elements about plot twists to come. Sometimes I get caught up with grandiloquence and neglect the beauty of terseness. Please bear with me through Settings 13 and 18 in particular. Volume I (or “Division 1”) closes with Setting 26. By the time you’ve gotten to Volumes II and III, the story will have picked up so much momentum that the rest of the story (up to Setting 65) will fly by.

I have never and still don’t promise the perfect story, but I’m warning you how big a commitment you have to make to finish this perdurable behemoth. Maybe I’m talking to myself here. The story focuses mainly on Squall, his regular groups (minus Rinoa), and some new characters like Mina, Merali, and Match. I tried to keep the number of Settings focused on characters from the older generation to a minimum. Dante, Jay, Lily, Jeremy, Pearl, and Sujie are other additions I’ve taken the liberty to make. As much I wanted to exclude Seifer and his posse altogether, I could not possibly. He has so much to offer as a character.

My saga is a prequel to Raine Ishida’s “Hope” (nanaki_17@hotmail.com) and though people cannot copyright ideas these days, only expressions, I have no problem with respectfully attributing even un-copyrightable intellectual property to their rightful owners. Here are my current acknowledgments and to the best of my knowledge, their current email addresses: The idea of Mina belongs to the aforementioned Raine Ishida. The idea of Titanus belongs to Dark Horse (duke_macbeth@juno.com). The idea of Stella, Laura, and Shojora belong to Kate Lorraine (lorraine_kate@hotmail.com). The idea of Lunar belongs to Barrett Machain (b_machain@hotmail.com). The idea of Eris belongs to Blackrose (lenoirrose@softhome.net).

I realized that the length of this 3-Volume, 65-Setting, 520-plus-single-spaced-page epic novel would deter most fans from picking it up, and strain from that small number even fewer who would ever finish reading it. In order to boost the interest and preserve the incentive to keep reading, I’ve begged the assistance of some very talented artists to whom I shall give due and grateful credit for their pieces for each chapter. I’ve also tried to infuse a little humor into each Setting through the characters. Please excuse me if what they say is not what you would have liked to hear. I had read all the stories of Seifer being a menace to society or Seifer’s sudden change of heart that I could bear. I couldn’t accept straight off any over maudlin, too-perfect romances between Squall and Rinoa. I was horrified by the possibility that Cid was capable of domineering over Squall after he had just saved the world. I hadn’t seen too many people use GFs as more than just weapons of war in their stories (the exception being Kate Lorraine’s “The Claiming of Shiva” in which she incorporates lines like, “Oh, [Shiva] wanted this one. This one, she had to make her own.”). I never did find Rinoa’s new sorceress powers all that entertaining. I thought Ultimecia’s return or the repeat of the Lunar Cry were exhausted and unoriginal. I felt Squaresoft left a lot of things ambiguous and in want of explanation. I was mad at all the fanfics that are left incomplete and leave the reader hanging. I hope not to fix all of this, but to present before you something new, if you give me the chance. The four years of my life I planned on sacrificing to complete this saga is the price of evading hypocrisy. It’s not about the fame. It’s not about the glory. And it’s definitely not about the glamour of fanfiction writing – there is no such glamour in empty coffee pots, disheveled hair, and burning the midnight oil as far as I’m aware. It’s about truth.

Be warned that my writing does not exude the elegance or delectability of Kate Lorraine's. My style has neither the refinement nor delicacy of DJ Johnston's; neither the magnitude nor the endurance of Marcus’; neither the sentimentality nor the poignancy of Arian's; neither the temerity nor the intrepidity of Darren Shier's; neither the gravity nor flourish of Larathia's; neither the maturity nor efficiency of Malice Shaw's. I do not elevate the language as the epic tradition behooves like XmagicalX does. Instead, I elevate the voice. The prose I promise is whimsical and sprightly. I plan to give you an exploration of the people and their interaction with each other and the world of Final Fantasy VIII. I have intended for you not to get caught up in the plot as much as to be swept away by the drama and pathos. Most of the plot movement occurs through dialogue or internal monologue because the story is character-centric, not action-centric.

The creativity I offer, I'm afraid, extends only as far as the bounds of my eccentricity and the reader's willingness to be led. The saddest part is when you have to leave this dream world that I've constructed. Yes, I am here to wield the mad power of molding worlds as I see fit, and I can proudly say that I do it in a way unadulterated by external opinions because it is my story and I planned it out before all the input began to pour in. I think I am thoughtlessly undertaking the emendation, extension, and (Hyne-willing) the establishment of canon. Ut sint unus auctor et una veritas sed multae recitationes.

Now, for my final word of caution: I abuse the usage of participles and adverbs, and I am shameless in experimenting with narrative presence, distance, and time (though nowhere near as adept or fanatical as Woolf or Joyce). I have in store for you my finest stock of gentle satire, gentile lampoon, bittersweet humor, and every last wicked intention. If the story happens to bore, bewilder, annoy, offend, or disgust you in any way, then it is a pity. Caveat emptor, take product as is. If you want another story, or a sequel perhaps, drop a line with any fictitious character names you would like to see incorporated in it, or any fresh ideas. So now, without further delay, I shall make my invocation and send you off into my own little microcosm of Final Fantasy VIII:

"Be with me, Muse of all Desire, Erato,

While I call up kings, the early times…

A greater history opens before my eyes,

A greater task awaits me."

-Vergil

Aeneid VII

Prologue: 1716 DAY 27, Tomb of the Unknown King Main Chamber

"O cruel one, bestow on me

Some taken of your sovereign sway,

Which I may follow earnestly,

And never from its precept stray.

If you would have me fade away

In silence, then account me dead,

But if you'd hear my ancient lady,

Then Love himself my cause shall plead.

My soul to contraries inured

Is made of wax and adamant,

And well prepared for Cupid's law.

Whether soft or hard my heart is yours,

To grave it leave to you I'll grant,

And to your will I'll bow with awe.

-Cervantes

Don Quixote of La Mancha Part 2 XII

He was bleeding.

From the way that it felt, it had to be pretty bad. Under his shirt there were, no doubt, multiple punctures through which he could feel the red fluid seeping out and soaking his white shirt. Had he his wits, he might have realized that he didn't have much time left before the end.

Nothing seemed to be happening. The drumming in his ears was silent but somehow concurrently more intense than it could ever have sounded in reality. His mind couldn’t register too many thoughts at once; he could only connect a small number of them; his movements were sluggish; his limbs were nowhere to be found; the world was now at rest, now swirling; now muddled, now clear.

He'd been in combat long enough to recognize these symptoms: He was in shock.

Looking down, he caught a glimpse of his completely red shirt and coldness seized him.

She betrayed me!

He could not get over that thought, he, crouching there, arms pulled in close, shivering in his bloodstained uniform. The image of the girl running out from the cavern played itself over and over in his head. He tried to stop it, but his memory refused to obey, forcing him to revisit the blue, the flapping, waving blue that she had down over her back. The blue she had that was so visible as she ran away.

What happened?

He grimaced as different parts of his body began to throb. He had to remember; he had to go back further. He saw fire, he felt his body being pierced from all sides, he perceived his initial fear, he stomached the onslaught of doubt, daunt, and imminent death, but only after the blue forced itself back into reminiscence did he feel obliterated.

He closed his eyes and shook his head violently, desperately trying to recall what had just happened. All the world seemed to bob ineffectually in eerie limbo.

She betrayed me!

He had to get beyond that. There was something else, something he was missing. If only he weren't trembling so much; if he could shut out the pain flooding his system and ripping into his muscles like a jagged saw, twisting from where it was nestled as to hook more sinews on its way through his body. The imagined sound of his flesh being torn off by strips nauseated him.

His eyes shot open. It had just come to him.

I was buried alive.

He tried to look around, focus his eyes, and find anything that looked vaguely familiar. He wasn’t certain if the noise exploding in his ears was someone's screaming or a great tremor sent by Nature herself. Just as his mind began to question the seemingly inert passing of time, his vision cleared and his eyes seized a target.

It was Rinoa, standing above him with a wicked-looking dagger that she was raising over his head.

Am I to die? he wondered as the feelings of loneliness and dread washed over him.

In response to that question which he had forbidden himself to ever ask, a dark phantom appeared from overhead and ominously called his name, beckoning to him.

"Squall…"

entrance

DIVISION 1: On the BREACH

Setting 01: 1220 DAY 0, Alcaud Plains around Balamb

“A savage race, that hoard, and sleep, and feed…know not me.

I cannot rest from travel.”

-Tennyson, Alfred Lord

Ulysses 5

<Elixir> Pathetic plea.

<Elixir> Pathetic plea

<I need an Elixir> Self-evident declaration

<Help me>! Punctuated despair and pathetic plea

<Anyone have an Elixir>? Rhetorical question and wishful thinking

<Please help me> Pathetic plea and self-evident futility

<…> Pause and resumption

<My poor feet> Plaintive self-pity

<…> Pause and resumption

<…>? Awareness and interest

<…>! Sudden realization and flood of jubilance

<There is Balamb Garden>! Second and self-evident declaration

<…> Self-reassurance and calmness

<There is someone coming>! Awareness and suspicion

<Who is there>? Nonspecifically directed interrogative

<Squall>? Quasi-specifically directed interrogative and wishful thinking

<Squall>! Reckless presumption and exuberance

<Is that you>? Quasi-specifically directed interrogative

<Hey, Squall> Relation-creative-purposive address and wavering certainty

<…> Pause and closer inspection

<…>! Awareness and corollary certainty

<Squall, are you there>? Quasi-specifically directed interrogative, extended presumption, uncertainty, and incipient inquietude

<Heavens>! Awareness and reflex panic

<Help me, someone>! Nonspecifically directed imperative directive, growing panic, and wishful thinking

<Squall>! Reflex defensive assertion and specifically directed, imbedded directive

<Please, no> Plaintive plea, specifically directed, elliptical imperative directive, deplorable capitulation, and fear

<Please> Plaintive plea, specifically directed, imperative directive, and unmitigated fear

<NO>! Awareness, plaintive plea, specifically directed, elliptical imperative directive and recoil

< –

Setting 02: 1427 DAY 1, Winhill Cemetery

“This is my son…when I am gone.

He works his work, I mine.”

-Tennyson, Alfred Lord

Ulysses 33

“Well, I’m here now, and I probably should have come here a lot more often than I have, this being the first time, so I’m sorry.”

Laguna Loire snapped his fingers to pass the time, unsure if what he said was coherent and clueless about what to say next. He’d never seen his wife’s burial marker before, much less talk to it, and he was trying his hardest to keep a smile on his face. What he really wanted to do was plop down right there and beg for Raine’s forgiveness.

“This actually isn’t an awkward situation at all,” he lied, “I can almost see you there looking skeptical. So, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to rehearse what the one monologue that I’ve always imagined that I would have with you once I saw you again.”

He stopped to think about what he just said before struggling to rephrase himself, “Of course I won’t be saying your lines out loud cause you’ll be saying them in my head, but it’ll work, I think.”

Taking a deep breath, Laguna tried to make some more excuses, even though he knew there was no point. And yet, somehow, he was comforted by the fact that had Raine been standing there, she wouldn’t have minded regardless. She would have stood there silently with that understanding, sympathetic smile, ready to laugh at him lightly and let him off the hook. Yes, he could see her standing there now, doing exactly that. It loosened him up a bit, but it also made him wish that she would just get angry at him, start calling him names, cursing at him, or beating him…anything to let him know how she really felt.

It was getting harder and harder to keep up that smile. He realized at that moment that the coldest words were what Raine didn’t say. She would never chastise him even if she were still alive. But now it was too late to hear her utter even a single word.

On the verge of cracking, it seemed like a good idea to change the subject. He thought about going off the script and talking about something that might not make him feel so guilty, but nothing came to mind. Then he remembered that he could always talk about their son whom he was sure Raine would be curious about. Yet, he was determined to save that topic for last.

Unable to come up with anything fast, Laguna could feel himself becoming more and more nervous. He even caught himself antsily tugging on the tails of his unbuttoned dress shirt and swaying back and forth. He kicked himself for not rehearsing it more times before actually coming, but it was too late for that now. Now he shook his head in disgust.

“Looks like I’ve botched another one, Raine,” he confessed finally, trying to joke about it with a quick, exaggerated frown. He imagined Raine rolling her eyes, imitating that silly frown, and shaking her head, once again absolving him. He wanted so bad to have her throw daggers at him with her eyes.

“Laguna, you loser,” he scolded himself, “you can’t even make a figment of your imagination get angry with you.”

Raine chuckled and playfully kicked some dirt onto his shoes. Then she tried to mimic his swaying motion, which was making her dizzy.

This is embarrassing, he thought to himself, scratching his head.

“Can you tell me that I’m horrible, that I don’t deserve to live?” he asked her.

Raine placed her index finger against her closed lips, shaking her head.

“I’m serious,” he entreated, trying again.

She humorously covered her ears and pretended not to hear him.

“Well, fine then, be that way,” Laguna conceded, slightly irritated at getting beaten in an argument with a speechless spirit.

Raine stuck her tongue out at him and pushed him lightly with the meanest face she could put on. It didn’t look very mean to Laguna, and he told her so. Her features softened a bit, not expecting her husband to be so straightforward.

Laguna finally gathered his thoughts and enough courage to spew out clumsily, “I know it wasn’t fair of me to leave you like I did, but that doesn’t make it right for you to leave before I can say that I’m sorry. This was one time that you never gave me the chance to pay for my mistake.”

That was what he wanted to say all along, how he felt on the inside, both guilty and cheated. In retaliation, Raine did her best to pull off a mischievous snicker.

“Why did you leave me?” he asked a little bit louder. He could feel the anger boiling inside him, giving him enough strength to press her more forcefully with his questions. “What was it? Was it a disease, something natural, or was it me? It was me, wasn’t it? Tell me.”

Before Laguna had finished his last question, Raine had picked up three rocks lying by her epitaph and begun to juggle them, finding them more interesting than her husband’s whining.

“Stop that,” he said, trying to swat away the imaginary stones, not realizing how idiotic he looked to any third person.

Raine wasn’t listening now, surprising herself with how many stones she could keep in the air. It was way more entertaining than Laguna’s confession, she decided. Ten seemed like a commendable number. Maybe she would be bold enough to attempt an eleventh for good measure.

Laguna was shaking involuntarily because he was mad at her for not listening and at himself for getting mad at a dead person when he was the one at fault. He calmed himself, realizing that this was exactly what Raine wanted…an angry Laguna who wanted to project the guilt and shift the blame. She wanted to protect him from feeling as if he had wronged her, even if that meant making herself seem so heartless.

“I’ll stay in Winhill until you want me to go then,” he suggested.

For the first time, Raine looked concerned. She shook her head, signaling to Laguna that he didn’t have to do that.

Laguna realized that this was her weakness. She wanted him to stay, but didn’t want to say it, just like she didn’t want him to stay in her little town because of her. He wasn’t doing this for the pleasure of watching Raine grow worried, though, but because he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he left Winhill again so suddenly. He owed that much to her, and seeing how disconcerted she was, as well as knowing her nature of always letting him off easy, he knew he was doing the right thing by making that promise.

At any rate, she might have married him so she wouldn’t have to listen to him beg her again and again to reconsider. Perhaps she was banking on his long vacation all long as a reprieve from all his droning. Had she known that he would have come back to whine after she was dead, she never would have agreed to marry him.

“I won’t leave you. I never should have,” he added.

Unexpectedly, Raine let all the rocks she was juggling drop, visibly moved by his discovery and decision.

“I don’t know what else to say except I’m sorry,” he admitted, lowering his head.

Raine tried to comfort him with her puppy-dog look, walked over next to him, and caressed his cheek before retreating to her original spot.

“I guess we were both lucky that Squall is that strong,” Laguna brought up suddenly, making sure to get it over with before he forgot. “I tried my best to take care of him, but he turned out all right on his own. Very independent, doesn't need anyone's help.”

Raine looked confused, but Laguna was too caught up with his praises to notice.

"I mean, he grew up with all that opposition, but he never let it get to him. It's great that he doesn't concern himself with what other people think of him. Tries not to listen to anyone who tries to give him any garbage about his not being able to take care of himself or making the wrong decision. Squall understands himself and knows when he's right, and that's what counts. Doesn't want anyone else to distract him from that. Pretty strong, huh? Always trusts himself to make the right decisions and take care of everything personally-"

Raine was waving for Laguna to stop. She was totally lost, and regardless to whomever her husband was raving about, he didn't seem to be living a healthy life.

“You know, our son. Squall? The big success?” Laguna picked up, thinking her interruption was another joke.

Raine looked stunned, making it abundantly clear that he had better not die any time soon because she was going to make him pay for choosing such a dumb name.

Laguna held up his hands in defense, stammering, “I-I t-thought you named him, because I sure as hell didn’t.”

The realization that Ellone named their son hit them at the same time. The look on Raine’s face spelled out that Ellone would do well not to die before her godmother’s wrath subsided, as she would surely pay for choosing such a dumb name.

Laguna rubbed his chin and asked, “You didn’t name him in all that time?”

Raine shot him a “don’t-push-me” look.

“Okay, okay,” he said quickly, and shifted the subject back to Ellone, “What did you expect her to name him?”

Raine made a “duh” face and mouthed, “Cloud.”

“I’ll get even with her for you, sweetie. I’ll name her son Irvine or something stupid like that,” Laguna offered.

Raine nearly doubled over laughing.

Encouraged by her propitious reaction, Laguna took that chance to say that from what he had heard, Squall had turned out just like him.

His wife was unimpressed, thinking to herself, “I thought you said he was a success.”

Instead of telling him that, though, she smiled tactfully, took a step forward, and gestured with a wave over his face for him to close his eyes.

Laguna closed them, but he could still see as if they were open. He was able to see the bright afternoon change into night, and all the stars lighting up against the dark velvet above. Looking down, he scowled in dismay as the grave marker vanished before his eyes. His brown slacks turned into black army pants, and his shirt into the sporty blue vest that he had worn when he was young.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” rang a familiar voice from behind him.

Laguna knew whom that voice belonged to before he spun around. It was the same one that he had longed to hear for nearly two decades, but he was too amazed by this new development to lift Raine in the air. It was déja vue for he had seen all this somewhere before. He looked through every memory he had with Raine before he realized that she was replaying for him that sentimental scenario in which he proposed to her. Astonished as he was, Laguna allowed himself to relive the moment, enjoying the miracle without questioning how it was possible that they could go through the entire sequence again: He turns around, not sure how to pop the question, waving her off and telling her to forget it; she runs over and pulled his arm, asking him to stay; he swings around, grabs her hand, and fits her finger with a gold ring; she looks at him questioningly; he shows her the gold ring on his own finger and watches as her quizzical countenance melts smoothly into a heart-wrenching, near-whimpering smile; and finally they share the seemingly eternal embrace that made all his consternation about the proposition seem worthwhile.

Laguna’s feet were numb by the time this awesome experience was over and he had to make an effort not to collapse as night turned back into day. Once again he was in the present, staring at her marker, shocked that the illusion had vanished so quickly. He couldn’t see Raine anymore, but some way or another, Laguna felt as if she was right there beside him, providing the same comfort.

“Uncle Laguna!”

Having grown accustomed to the unbroken tranquility of Winhill for the past twenty minutes, Laguna’s eardrums were nearly shattered by Ellone’s soft but nevertheless splitting voice. For an instant Laguna was almost glad that Raine had left since Ellone would surely have been toast had she arrived a few seconds earlier.

There she was, Squall’s “big sister,” green scarf and all, trying to make her way down the grassy hill without spraining her dainty ankles. She waved in her usual blinding splendor so innocently that even Laguna had to gawk before grinning and raising his head in acknowledgement.

On the summit behind Ellone he could see Kiros and Ward. Kiros pointed at something behind Laguna. Just a short distance away, the brilliant Balamb Garden drew near, skipping from hill to hill.

Laguna stood up, feeling a sense of pride swell in him with the knowledge that the craft carried a true hero, his son. He almost felt giddy. I can’t believe he’s really mine!

And auspiciously, Raine was there to see it.

Setting 03: 1458 DAY 1, Winhill Outskirts

“Down stage he strode some paces,

grave, tall in affliction, his long arms outheld.

Hoarsely the apple of his throat hoarsed softly.

Softly he sang to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell.

A headland, a ship, a sail upon the billows.

Farewell. A lovely girl, her veil awave

upon the wind upon the headland, wind around her.”

-Joyce, James

Ulysses II

“This place must have a plethora of sentimental value, Ellone,” Kiros said, “otherwise I don’t think he would be so determined to stay here.”

“I’ve never seen Uncle Laguna so fired up and decisive before, Mr. Kiros,” Ellone commented.

Kiros considered it and gave Ward a knowing look.

“Neither have we,” was the consensus.

Ellone looked at Ward and giggled.

“No one knew on the White SeeD ship, Mr. Ward,” Ellone asked, “but how did you lose your ability to speak?”

Ward was anything but offended by the question. He pointed back in the direction of Winhill, almost out of view.

Kiros did not mince words in his explanation, “Your uncle pushed us off a cliff.”

Ellone gasped in amusement, “That simple, huh? No offense, Mr. Ward.”

Ward shrugged good-naturedly. He considered himself lucky. Befriending Laguna meant taking risks. It could have been worse; for instance, had Laguna actually tried to save him with one of his hair-brained ideas, he surely would have lost more than his tongue. In his next life, he would invest in some ‘miscellaneous Laguna hazard insurance’ before the inevitable accidents and become filthy rich. He might even retire early, or, as safety behooved, at least before Laguna’s antics retired him permanently.

They had stopped and were waiting for the Estharian ship. It was actually carrying a full load, but the pilots could not turn down the request of three presidential aides. What Ellone didn’t understand was how Esthar was okay with doing without their president for a week or two. Then she considered the possibility that all he did was put his signature on a few papers every day for tradition’s sake and for the bureaucracy’s. As long Kiros and Ward were there, Esthar would be fine.

Ellone frowned, recalling something her uncle told her.

“Was this during your escape from Lunatic Pandora?” she asked.

Both Kiros and Ward nodded.

“Uncle Laguna told me that he held off forty guards to give you two a chance to make it down a side path while he had to eventually make the suicide dive himself,” Ellone said earnestly.

Kiros and Ward exchanged looks. They were used to Laguna’s lunacies, but they had never heard this version of their escape before. Ward broke into uncontrollable laughter while Kiros made a disgusted “psssh” sound.

Kiros took Ellone aside and said gently, “Now Ellone, your Uncle Laguna has a tendency to exaggerate when he tells his stories…either that or he hit his head on the way down.”

“Oh,” Ellone murmured, “which part?”

Kiros thought about it and replied, “Not much, just that part about holding off forty guards by himself, then covering our escape, and that last bit about making the jump himself.”

“”Uncle Laguna wouldn’t do that!” Ellone exclaimed.

“We’re talking about the same uncle of yours, Laguna Loire, right?” he asked, just to make sure.

Ellone saw Kiros’ point.

“What weapon did he say he used?” Kiros pressed on, interested by Laguna’s embellishment of the truth.

Ellone blinked.

“I thought you knew,” she answered, “he was using his bare hands.”

She turned to look at Ward who seemed to her like he was choking on something.

“No, seriously,” she cried, “he gave his gun to you guys in case you ran into any monsters on the way down. How thoughtful of him.”

Kiros vocalized exactly what was on Ward’s mind, “Yeah, all three seconds of the way down.”

Ellone finally saw the truth, but was adamant about preserving Laguna’s integrity.

“There has to be something good about him…why else would Raine marry him?”

“More likely he probably had something on her and coerced her to marry him through blackmail,” Ward thought to himself.

“He’s probably getting old,” Ellone tried in desperation.

Kiros snickered.

“Laguna acts your age,” he pointed out, “but at least he made this holographic message for us to give to Squall. I’ll transfer it to Balamb Garden with the Esthar transport’s antenna as soon as it picks us up.”

“I hope he found something nice to say,” Ellone said.

The unadded “and that it’s coherent” was understood by all three.

“I bet it runs something cheesy, like, ‘So, how’s the weather, son? I’m your father now, so if you want to change your last name, son, you can,’” Kiros added in afterthought.

Ellone scowled, saying her uncle wasn’t that corny.

Kiros suggested that the trip into space might have stressed Ellone out more than they thought, so she punched him.

Ward pointed at the holovid, suggesting that they take a quick peek. This Ellone was against, but even she was a little curious.

“How about just the first few seconds, before they can get into any of the private talk?” Kiros suggested.

Ellone could live with that, so Kiros typed in the password that Laguna knew Squall would eventually guess right, LOIRE. A miniature version of Laguna appeared, scratching his head and shifting his balance from leg to leg, unsure of what to say.

“So, how’s the weather, son? I’m your father now, so if you want to change your last name, son, you can,” Laguna mumbled.

Kiros was laughing so hard that he dropped the holovid, which shut off automatically.

Suddenly their attention was turned to someone coughing in the bushes behind them. Kiros moved aside some shrubbery and saw a lady having collapsed in the tall grass. He checked her pulse rate and breathing.

“She’s dying. Definitely needs medical treatment immediately. Even a Blood Soul couldn’t inflict this many status defects. Perhaps an advanced stage Malboro-BTR poisoning. Nothing like I’ve ever seen before. She must have been addicted to it for a long time,” Kiros concluded, knowing that it was impossible for any doctor in Winhill to furnish the technology needed to save this lady.

“What is a Blood Soul, Mr. Kiros?” Ellone asked, paling.

“An undead monster. Just some skeletal fish that floats around in the air. There are a lot of them around Winhill, but I’m sure even this kind of poisoning is beyond its ability.”

“And you make this assessment based on what kind of experience?” Ellone inquired slowly.

“Five years in the Pan-Galbadia Medical School Gold Class and a surgeon’s degree summa cum laude,” Kiros replied, still checking her vital signs.

Ellone whistled, raising her eyebrows.

Ward nodded, remembering how Kiros had once told him that familiarity with the anatomy of various creatures made him so much more efficient a killer, knowing all the vital parts at which to strike first.

And he’s good with those katal daggers too. Sort of like super-sized scalpels, Ward reflected.

“Hey, look!” Ellone exclaimed, pointing at the Esthar ship appearing over the horizon and speeding towards them.

Kiros looked at Ellone and said, “Don’t even think about it, there is no room for a fourth passenger with that full load.”

Ellone considered the situation. It was essential that Kiros and Ward return to the control room, and this lady definitely needed help. Ellone herself was the only one who didn’t really have to make it back on the first flight.

“She can have my spot,” she told Kiros. “Just call ahead for another ship to come and get me in five minutes.”

Kiros nodded, and then added, “We should notify her family.”

He turned to the sick women and tried to find out where she lived. Ellone doubted that she could hear him, so she checked the woman’s pockets.

There were no identification cards like those they had in Esthar; Winhill was too small a place for any need of that. However, besides a pack of green Malboro baby tentacle cigarettes, Ellone did manage to dig out a pair of keys. Seeing them, she put her hand on Kiros’ shoulder and told him he didn’t have to ask the woman anymore. Kiros gave her a questioning look.

“I recognize these keys,” she said softly. “This one locks up the bar, and the other one our rooms.”

Kiros lifted his eyebrows, thinking, “What luck! Now Laguna doesn’t need to convince her to let him live in his old house. She’ll probably end up selling him the house to pay off Esthar’s medical bill.”

Their transport had landed and the crew urging them to hurry up. They were already behind schedule because of the detour to Winhill.

“Just wait here, okay?” Kiros told Ellone, hoisting the sick woman on his shoulder and running up the ramp. Ward waved to Ellone and followed Kiros.

“Okay, Mr. Kiros. See you soon, Ward,” Ellone called after them.

The Esthar ship lifted off slowly, drawing up the ramp and sealing the hangar. After it was five meters above the ground, it stopped, slightly rocking, like a suspended puppet wiggles, then made a smooth, in-place 50-degree turn before blasting forwards and disappearing over the horizon in seconds.

When Ellone’s eyes could no longer follow the vessel, she sat down delicately on a little grass patch beside the road. She decided to spend the next five minutes twirling her green scarf and dusting off her white skirt. She really did need a new outfit; the blue shirt she always wore was getting grubby. Suddenly she noticed a fluffy, yellow bird race from one bush across the dirt path into another bush.

Absolutely delighted by the chocobo’s little feet, Ellone squealed, clapping at the same time. She held out her hands and waited for the next chocobo to cross. When it did, she just barely missed nabbing it. And so it went. The adorable babies even dropped items at times. Ellone wheedled from them candy, stray Gil, some medicine, and even a piece of a vase. Totally random, she thought to herself.

She had been entertaining herself in this fashion for a short time before another light flashed over the horizon.

“Right on time,” she thought, giddily getting up and dusting her rump off.

Ellone stood up, tugging her hair playfully, and waited to be picked up.

Setting 04: 1533 DAY 1, Great Salt Lake Perimeter

"It is astonishing with how little wisdom mankind can be governed,

when that little wisdom is its own."

-Inge, William Ralph

<No sign of him here either> Nonspecifically directed declaration

<Well, keep searching> Imperative directive and indifference

<Where do you suppose he is>? Specifically directed, information interrogative

<If I knew, do you not think that you would know too>? Rhetorical question and scorn

<That is not what I meant> Reflex defensive assertion and disconcertedness

<I know what you meant> Complacent declaration and haughtiness

<I know you know what I meant> Ruffled retort and slight exasperation

<Then we understand each other>? Complacent, rhetorical question and indifference

<Crystal-clear, but where do you suppose he is>? Punchy, reflex dismissal and assertive interrogative

<If somehow I knew and you did not know, would we be randomly flying around>? Rhetorical question and vestigial condescension

<…> Internal conflict and strained suppression of ire

<…> Self-satisfaction and pleasure

<Why didn't the Carrier send more ships besides just ours>? Earnest interrogative

<Obviously the Carrier thinks one scout ship is enough locate him> Reflex ludicrous response

<We both know that is not true> Rebuff and strained patience

<I know you know that we both know the same thing> Self-righteous clarification, feigned admiration, and slight exasperation

<We have been through this many times already> Declaration, disapproval, and mild annoyance

<Then stop bringing it up>! Snappy retort and scorn

<…> Pause and discomfiture

<…> Indifference

<You have not answered my question> Declaration and impatience

<Search me> Malicious, absurd suggestion

<…> Pause and frustration

<If I had the answer, you would have it already too> Supercilious explanation

<…> Helplessness and dissatisfaction

<…> Dismissal and indifference

<I fear the worst> Earnest opinion

<I know> Complacent, self-evident declaration

<…> Tested tolerance

<…> Indifference

<Where could he have gone>? Nonspecifically directed rhetorical question, befuddlement, and slight exasperation

<For the last time, I do not know>! Sudden expletive and flood of annoyance

<It was a rhetorical question. I was not addressing you> Preplanned self-assured clarification and latent affront

<Well, I heard it> Indirect plaintive declaration and annoyance

<Then it is not my fault> Childish declaration of self-exculpation

<Just mind your own business and keep searching> Brusque imperative directive and dismissal

<What are you going to do>? Semi-interested interrogative, information interrogative, and blatant check

<You already know> Patronizing reminder

<What good is looking through the archived data of this planet's sample population>? Interrogative and skepticism

<You already know that too> Patronizing reminder and deliberate condescension

<Do you honestly believe that by knowing everything about the whole you can infer each individual's every possible action in any given situation>? Derisive rhetorical question, slight amusement, and intimated challenge

<What do you think>? Rhetorical question, information interrogative, and contemptuousness

<I know you just meant for me to search your thoughts> Complacent observance and purposive display

<I know we both know what I meant and that I would know what you would know> Self-righteous retort, contemptuousness, and intimated challenge

<…> Disappointment and frustration

<…> Internal revel

<Well, I think we should not assume anything before we know everything> Solemn declaration, indirect caution, and hint directive

<I knew you were thinking that, so please do not remind me> Complacent declaration, haughtiness, imperative directive, disdain

<…> Ire

<…> Self-assuredness and indifference

<Where could he be>? Nonspecifically directed rhetorical question, information interrogative, and curiosity

<Can you not even stop thinking for more than two seconds>? Sudden expletive, imbedded imperative directive, and annoyance

<I just think it is peculiar that after all our time here, he is the first data collector who has not returned from his routine run> Hasty declaration and mitigating clarification

<I know what you are thinking, you do not have to tell me> Complacent declaration, exasperation, and need directive

<And you do not find that peculiar>? Interrogative and lurking suspicion

<You already know what I think> Reflex argumentative assertion and intimated challenge

<You think the timing is peculiar because our data collection here is just about complete> Calm declaration and casual dismissal

<Yes, I know, because I was thinking that, and thank you for reminding me> Overly agreeable concurrence, brusquely feigned deference, and blatant causticity

<You have also considered the possibility that he has defected from the Clan>! Scrutinizing exclamation and marvel

<Yes I have considered that possibility>! Sudden expletive, condescension, and voluminous annoyance

<My apologies> Awkward concession, shock, and fading effervescence

<Stop repeating everything I think>! Directive with imbedded threat and annoyance

<Again, my apologies> Mitigating concession and daunt

<…> Disgust

<…> Discomfiture and uncertainty

<…> Pause and mild annoyance

<…>! Awareness and curiosity

<I detect it, do not repeat yourself> Blunt dismissal, imperative directive, and annoyance

<How clever of them>! Approving exclamation and admiration

<The ability to shift a city out of the visibility spectrum does not make the society intelligent> Offhand derogatory dismissal and pomposity

<…> Adverse skepticism

<Land over there> Authoritative directive

<I know they cannot see us, but wouldn't we be breaching protocol distance to the samples>? Considerate interrogative, suggestive reminder, skepticism, and latent criticism

<It does not matter because they will not detect us anyway and we need to recharge our engine batteries> Dictatorial dismissal and didactic explanation

<…> Doubt

<Do not worry; even if they notice power surges, they are not advanced enough to discover us> Assurance and disdain

<Fine> Conceded accordance

<Now that we have landed, launch project ‘Archangel’> Authoritative directive and eagerness

<I will> Casual acknowledgement

<Have our unit investigate the one they call 'Squall'> Directive and disdain

<Will do> Casual acknowledgement and agreement

<Our recording incriminates this 'Squall' as the possible perpetrator> Stalwart declaration and biased speculation

<The recording is not definitive, and I would make no accusations just yet> Earnest declaration, reminder, intimated compromise, and purposive check

<The ‘Archangel’ unit will soon prove my worst suspicions> Self-assured declaration, anticipation, stimulation, and deliberate inattention

<…> Hesitance and distrust

<Anyway, I am going to go check on the prisoner> Self-important dismissal and indifference

<Fine> Callous acknowledgement

<I wonder if we should abduct another specimen to ransom PuPu back in case he is their prisoner> Nonspecifically directed declaration, consideration, and interest

<That is hardly necessary at this juncture, QyQy> Jeering declaration, hint directive, and purposive interference

<We shall see> Self-assured dismissal and disregard

Setting 05: 2045 DAY 1, Balamb Garden Ballroom

“How dull it is to pause, to make an end.

To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!”

-Tennyson, Alfred Lord

Ulysses 22

“I’ve never had yellowish wine cooler before,” Cid informed Quistis, holding up his glass.

Quistis laughed agreeably, and then apologized for not being able to change before the banquet. She looked around quickly at all the stately black suits and skirts that adorned the Garden members in the ballroom.

“Perfectly understandable,” Cid replied lightly, “to be running late and not have time to change coming back through Time Compression.”

“Nothing compared to what it took to get past Garden’s front gate with Rinoa. They still don’t believe she’s a good sorceress,” Quistis joked.

Cid snickered accordingly, taking another tentative sip of his wine cooler. He paused and unsure how to proceed, redistributed his weight over his legs and pretended to enjoy the Garden orchestra.

“So what is the real reason for sending Matron and Irvine off to enjoy the rest of the party?” Quistis asked, shifting her balance from her left foot to her right. It was uncomfortable because she had been careless to stomp the ground too hard with it after throwing Irvine’s torso off her shoulder just minutes before. Always trying to impress girls with that overly casual, occasionally too carefree to be respectful, cowboy attitude. Nothing mysterious about that.

She sighed, and thought to herself, “If only Squall would do that.”

Cid rubbed the back of his brown-hair-matted head uneasily and forced a cheesy smile. “This probably isn’t the best time to ask this of you, but I have another mission for you lined up tomorrow,” he said.

Quistis blinked, and then nodded acceptingly.

“You’re the Headmaster, whatever you say goes. That means you are resuming command, right?”

Cid shifted his spectacles and nodded in agreement.

“I am going to reassert my authority here in Balamb Garden,” he answered with finality.

Quistis held both hands behind her back, not sure whether or not Squall would like that. While it didn’t seem like he warmed overwhelming to responsibility, he wouldn’t take too kindly to being demoted either.

“But,” Cid continued, brushing some stray piece of hair off his best-looking red vest, “I have something bigger planned for SeeD. I want Squall to go supervise the new SeeDs and Garden trainees in Trabia Garden.”

Quistis raised her eyebrows, caught off guard. She hadn’t even thought about the remnants of Trabia since the missiles from Galbadia demolished it.

“Does Selphie know about this?” Quistis asked, gathering her thoughts again.

Cid nodded and informed her that Selphie would be overseeing the 12 construction teams. It was a massive project trying to build a new Garden with brand new designs in a matter of weeks. Luckily they had some funding from some Shumi patrons.

“We were lucky to have Esthar move all those energy cells that responded to the Lunatic Pandora weapon into Trabia. It should save us a pretty Gil,” Cid muttered.

“Why did you want to see me about this?” Quistis asked, fidgeting in her tight, pink skirt.

“You’re still the most experienced SeeD I have. I need you to keep an eye on Squall because I won’t be there. I have no doubt that he always makes the best judgment, but he tends to respond better to an environment more populated by his peers. I just don’t want him withdrawing deeper into his world of seclusion,” Cid explained.

Quistis gave a sign of acknowledgement, and then asked if she should notify Zell and Irvine.

Cid shook his head, saying, “No, they’ll be needed for a different mission. I’m sending them on diplomatic affairs in Shumi to make sure the Gil flow continues, as well as check out four geographically spread sites in relatively isolated areas and investigate some atmospheric abnormalities that have been reported.”

Quistis frowned, her training unable to suppress her instinctive reaction. She didn’t think that diplomacy was the right task to ask of either impulsive young men, and she told Cid that.

“That’s the funniest part,” Cid replied with his “I’m proud of myself” look.

Quistis noted that Headmaster Kramer had a sick sense of humor and pitied his wife. Deciding that the conversation was over, she nodded more artificially than she needed to, excused herself, and then went off to find Squall.

“I still don’t understand why you were so adamant about turning in your resignation notice as SeeD instructor,” Cid sighed, even though Quistis was already out of hearing range.

Not seeing Squall anywhere, Quistis decided to walk past Irvine, wildly videotaping everything, and towards the table where Zell was in a feeding frenzy.

Surely he must know where Squall is, she thought.

Stopping only to compliment Edea on how wonderful she looked tonight, Quistis got to the table about the same time as frolicking Selphie appeared out of nowhere. Somehow she had wrenched away Irvine’s trademark hat and was wearing it with his usual slim yellow outfit.

Zell was furiously cramming down as many of the jealously coveted Garden hotdogs as he could. His girlfriend was begging him to chew more and eat less but either it seemed a good idea to pay attention to her later or try to impress her by gorging himself even more, he continued his rare feast. Quistis caught a bit of what Zell’s girlfriend went on to tell him. Something about her having to leave for Galbadia on an anti-Malboro campaign the following morning. Zell seemed totally unaffected by her news, but he also must have completely misunderstood her because he wished her good luck for her dance competition. Yet, with all the hotdogs stuffed in his mouth, which made him look like a moogle with hives, his words came out as coherently as a moogle would have spoken them.

That's odd, Quistis thought, frowning, I thought Zell's girlfriend was a blonde Balamb girl. Who is this pig-tailed brunette in the Garden outfit?

“Hey, Zell,” Quistis called from across the table, “do you know where Squall is?”

Zell had seen Quistis coming, and whether he actually heard what she asked him and tried to say, “With Rinoa,” or he mistook her question for "Why were you downloading Rinoa screen-savers from the Garden tutorial?" and wanted to answer, "Not of Rinoa," his reply came out as “wruffa wuffferra.” He found out that more went in than came out, immediately choking and spewing out bits of half-macerated hotdog all over. Some landed on his girlfriend’s black Garden uniform, and even though she knew that those hotdog bits were not juicy enough to stain her skirt, even if it had been a color on which a stain would be noticeable, she screamed and jumped out of her seat.

Quistis had already guessed that answer, and was wondering why he even bothered to give such a useless reply. She found it a good time to make some chit-chat and get to know Zell's new companion while they were all huddled around him. Selphie, in the meantime, after making fun of his girlfriend's pigtail hair-style, possibly because she was jealous of the hair’s length, leaned down and with thick, artificial tenderness, asked Zell if he was going to rechew the pieces of food that he had spit out on the table. Zell was desperately looking for a mouthful of milk, but his empty glass did not refill itself and he had to force down the rest of his dry meal by himself. Selphie’s comment didn’t sit well with him so he jumped up, knocking over his chair, and frightened all the ladies away.

Irvine had zoomed in on these four for awhile now, so he was quite surprised when Zell threw a leftover hotdog at him. He wasn’t use to handling laughing and being startled at the same time so he dropped the camcorder. The look on Selphie’s face was enough to make his heart sink and his face apple red. He had already chaffed her by focusing on those three underclasswomen, so he didn’t think this was helping his standing with her.

“T-there’s no problem! No problem,” he stammered, picking it up and brushing it off as quickly as possible. He took a cautious peek over at Selphie. She had one of those “There-had-better-not-be-a-problem” look on, with her hands on her hips…Irvine lost his thought when he saw those hips…

“Hey!” Selphie shouted at him, bringing him back to reality with a jolt.

“Nothing wrong at all,” he assured her, giving his best “Just-pretend-you-didn’t-see-that-cheesehead-move-of-mine” smile.

“Smooth, real smooth, Irvine,” he muttered to himself.

Selphie was still glaring at him. She suddenly made alternating circular motions with her hands, shouting at him, “Well, keep it rolling!”

Embarrassed, Irvine fumbled about with the controls, trying not to look at Selphie’s half-exasperated, half-annoyed facial expression that he knew she was sporting.

“That klutz,” she thought to herself critically. She turned away in disgust and found herself looking through the archway leading to the open balcony. Suddenly she noticed her dark-haired girl friend with her usual blue skirt and black shorts on.

How does Rinoa get her skin to glisten like that? she wondered enviously.

Catching a glimpse of Squall around the corner, Selphie smiled at the thought that this might be the perfect time for their diffident team leader to make a move on Rinoa. Selphie caught Irvine aiming the video camera at her again with her peripheral vision, and so turned and motioned for him to zoom in on Rinoa shooting the breeze. Irvine adjusted his view accordingly, but was at the wrong angle to catch any part of Squall on tape.

“What’s up with Selphie?” he thought to himself, feeling his hands almost slip off the precious equipment before grumbling, “First she chews me out for looking at girls, and now she wants me to get an eyeful of Rinoa.”

Quistis caught up with Selphie just as Squall moved fully into view from where they were standing. Rinoa had pointed at something outside and apparently that was incentive enough for Squall to lean in, take her in his arms and snatch a deep kiss long since reserved for him. Not expecting to find Squall in that position, Quistis held her breath as Selphie cupped her hands over her mouth and squealed in delight.

“Long live the Tonberry King!” she shouted, following it up with, “Squall finally got on first base!”

Quistis remembered to inhale.

Irvine came up to them, asking them what all the commotion was about.

Selphie just stared at him in disbelief for a second, leaving just enough time for little cowboy Kinneas to wonder what he had done wrong now.

“You didn’t get any of that?” Selphie shrieked.

Irvine’s surprise was turning rapidly into fear.

“The batteries ran out,” he appealed, figuring that the truth would save him.

Obviously Irvine had forgotten that things worked differently in their fantastically warped, little community and as a result, Quistis ended up catching the camcorder that he threw in the air as he sped away from a charging Selphie, fork in hand and close in pursuit.

Quistis passed the camcorder between her hands, wondering how to approach Squall now. It seemed like she had definitely lost him now. After all, he and Rinoa were still on the same kiss. Flustered, Quistis looked away, her eyes finding their way back to Zell’s table. It was empty now, his girlfriend having gone home early, and Zell nowhere to be seen. Something caught her eye and she took a step closer.

There was a piece of paper on the seat. Quistis walked over and picked it up. “Silly girl, she must have left it,” Quistis thought, turning it over. What was her name again? Mina*?

*Raine Ishida (nanaki_17@hotmail.com)

has a sequel to my saga and in that work

"Hope," like others, she includes Mina.

It was a new photograph of Mina and some guy who Quistis thought was pretty cute and had a face that was awfully familiar. She dismissed it as one of those faces that naturally just seemed that way, like the ones those two brothers operating the elevators at Fisherman’s Horizon had. Without giving the snapshot another thought, she looked around for Zell.

She saw him saunter thoughtlessly right into Squall and Rinoa’s kiss off. He caught himself halfway through the act, and cupped his eyes with his palm in dire embarrassment. Squall had pulled away just as Zell came up to them and based on her facial expression, Rinoa was not going to forgive the bumbling fool.

“Poor Zell,” Quistis thought, racing over next to Zell in a position optimal for shielding him from any Blaster-edge attacks.

The best line Zell could dish out was, “Um, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

Squall said that it was nothing. The unfortunate response merited, in Zell’s opinion, one of the dirtiest looks that a pretty Heartilly face could dish out, a shove from Rinoa, and her storming away from the balcony back into the party. Squall looked like someone caught with his shorts down.

What? he shouted in his head. Was it something I said?

Quistis having heard the nauseating exchange, quickly handed the photograph to Zell, told him about his coming ambassadorship, relayed Cid’s message to Squall with a glare, and ran off to comfort Rinoa.

What did I do? he asked after seeing Quistis’ look.

Zell, apparently very excited about his new mission, raised his fist triumphantly in the air, forgetting all about the embarrassing situation they were in. His cheering and victory dance was compounded with some in-place shadow-boxing. Still holding the picture as he wiggled through a tight four-punch combination, it was perfectly visible after his uppercut. Exactly what the picture meant took awhile to register. Squall didn’t notice Zell’s abrupt break in his string of war hoots and jabs.

“W-Where did Mina say she was going?” Zell asked shakily.

Who? Squall asked silently, barely listening to him. The only Mina in my recollection is that exotic dancer from the club in Esthar.

Zell saw his clueless face.

"The assistant librarian? You know, my girlfriend?" Zell repeated, more frantically this time.

I thought your girlfriend was that blonde chick in Balamb? Did you find yourself a SeeD, Zell? Squall wondered, lifting his eyebrows and for a rare instant, betraying his apathetic mold.

"S-she went home to pack, didn't she?" Zell reasoned aloud, voice wavering.

How should I know? Squall thought immediately, realizing that he had to verbalize it just as he was about to look away.

“How should I know?” Squall grumbled, disturbed more by Rinoa’s reaction to what he said than how Zell had barged in. He would not notice Zell as he scrambled off to catch his girlfriend.

Left alone, Squall rested his elbows on the balcony railing. Closing his eyes, he tried to let his mind go blank, and his spirit free from any anxiety. He was bombarded by confusion, disgust, and resentment.

Why is this happening to me? Why isn’t Irvine or Zell out here with a migraine?

“Who could understand Rinoa anyway?” he asked aloud accidentally.

He considered the facts. She isn’t even a SeeD. Why is she making me so nervous sometimes and upset at other times? Tonight definitely qualifies as one of those confounding second type of times.

It just didn’t make sense to him what exactly Rinoa wanted from him. Does she actually expect me to say and do everything she wants? Does she want my soul? Doesn’t she like me because she understands me? And if she does understand me, why does she want me to change? Why doesn’t she just excuse me for who I am?

It annoyed him to feel like he needed an excuse to be himself. Squall went on to question whether it was possible to give his soul out so simply. It just doesn’t seem worth it. I can save her from fire and ice, but how much more am I expected to sacrifice? And why does she need me to show her all these sacrifices? It’s irrational. Rinoa is irrational.

Squall considered Rinoa’s bright, happy-go-lucky personality, and finally made the connection between her person and her unreasonable demands. It was just because she was that capricious. True, she is a pleasure to be around sometimes, but if she is going to turn into a Wendigo every few minutes and make everyone uncomfortable, then she isn’t worth it. Besides, I think she just gave up on me.

If this is what you end up raising with the best environment that Gil can buy and the most orderly tutelage an army can provide, a spoiled, fickle brat who hands out headaches to everyone in her path, then I want nothing to do with it, he concluded decisively.

Just to bolster his reasoning, he added, It’s not like SHE jumped into space to save ME.

Squall looked at the moon for a bit longer before reaching in his pocket and pulling out a rolled baby Malboro tentacle from his cigarette case.

“Ifrit,” he whispered.

The fiery, horned, dark-skinned Guardian Force appeared beside his master before Squall could finish pronouncing his name.

“Master?” he growled hungrily.

Squall held out the Malboro tentacle roll nonchalantly. Ifrit brushed the end of the roll with his paw and watched it spark to life at the touch of his flinty skin.

“Do you want my opinion?” the monstrous GF offered.

You’re still here? No, of course I don’t want your opinion. If I wanted your opinion, don’t you think I would have asked for it, you dumb ox?

“No,” Squall answered without taking his eyes off the moon.

“I didn’t mean about the girl,” Ifrit clarified. “I meant about the cigarette. It’s not good for you.”

I know what you meant.

Had Squall cared enough, he would have shot back a look smacking of “I don’t care.”

I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you. Maybe you’ll go away. Hopefully this time you’ll take that sulfur stench away with you.

After a moment, when Ifrit was still there, he said, “You can go now,” waving the GF off.

Ifrit bowed and petered out in a wisp of smoke as fast as he had come, leaving Squall to himself, staring at the myriad of tiny waves, tugging against each other to see who could steal a ray from the moon and shimmer for just that one second.

I don’t want to think about anything now. Just rest here and pretend that none of this ever happened. I wish it didn’t. I’d still be fencing in the courtyard everyday, I wouldn’t know some irresponsible, indecisive loser who doesn’t want me to be his son, I wouldn’t have raised everyone’s expectations of my actions, and I wouldn’t have to feel inadequate every freaking five minutes around Rinoa.

From behind him, Selphie’s upbeat voice broke the silence. Squall turned his gaze from the giant kaleidoscope below them to the yellow sprite that had thrown herself onto him. He threw her off and asked her what was wrong with her.

Selphie was too hyped up to mind. She just heard the news that she was the head of the construction crews in Trabia. After adjusting how Irvine’s hat sat on her head, she slapped Squall on the back for his promotion to Headmaster and before he could turn and frown, slapped his arm and asked him what he did to Rinoa. He shot her an annoyed but surprised look.

“I didn’t do anything,” he defended himself.

Selphie gave the ever omniscient smile.

“Oh,” she cooed, “is THAT the problem?”

Squall scowled and told her that she did not know what she was talking about.

“Squall’s so cute when he’s growing up,” she continued to tease before he decided it would waste less energy by quitting the view and leaving the balcony to her.

“Oh, Commander,” she added, knowing that the title would make him stiffen, “the President of Esthar left a message for you earlier today.”

Doing her best imitation of a sonorous male voice Selphie grunted, “Squall, son, you might want to check it out.”

While making his exit, Squall did stiffen at the title, but the hair on his neck bristled at the mention of his father.

As seductively as possible, she called after him, “Rinoa’s so cute when she’s asleep, Squall, but you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

“No,” he yelled back flatly, “I wouldn’t!”

Setting 06: 1730 DAY 12, Trabia Heath Peninsula Island

“’But now reach out your hand; open my eyes.’

And yet I did not open them for him;

And it was courtesy to show him rudeness.”

-Alighieri, Dante

Inferno XXXIII

“This has to be the stupidest mission I’ve ever been on,” Zell muttered aloud.

Had he known that staring at the clouds for one and a half weeks was what Headmaster Cid meant by “checking atmospheric conditions,” he would have kicked Irvine out of the Ragnarok and taken his girlfriend instead. The thought of Mina shut him up.

Remembering that this was Irvine's first official mission as a salaried SeeD, he reasoned that it was by default the stupidest mission Irvine had ever been on as well. The consistency in opinion about their assignment further convinced Zell of how right he was.

“I think I see Venus!” Zell shouted suddenly, jumping up and down.

Irvine nodded hastily, concentrating more on what he was doing then listening to Zell’s raving.

Damn you two little stones!

Zell still hadn’t removed the binoculars from his eyes.

“Come on, trench coat boy,” he goaded, “pay up.”

Irvine was getting more frustrated.

Damn you two little stones!

Still gazing at Venus, Zell snickered at Irvine’s failed attempts at starting a fire with his flint. Not that it mattered since he was the first to spot anything spectacular in the last eleven days. Irvine owes me so much Gil…I have it made!

Visibly upset by how things were going with the flint, he got up and hurled the rocks at Zell. He was glad that his target still hadn’t removed the binoculars because there was no way he would have been able to guess that Irvine was a professional sharpshooter based on how often he missed.

Irvine regained his composure, dusted himself off gallantly, then proceeded to pull out his rifle, load two rounds of Fire Ammo, and blasted the foliage amidst his ring of stones to bloody Ifrit. Coolly he blew away the smoke coming out of his gun, and put his free hand on his hip as if he were posing for a picture. He lifted his head and scoffed haughtily at the little flames he incited, flashing his best “Yeah, you know who’s all that, you know who’s the bad-ass” smirk. Starting to sway in his victory dance, Irvine hummed to himself, “Who’s your daddy? I am. Who’s your daddy? It’s me. Don’t you know it? I’m Irvine…”

What is with him and his marshmallows anyway? Aren't they just flour and sugar? Zell wondered. And why was he so obstinate about having them toasted the traditional way? Had he taken a moment to look at the little unconscious jig Irvine was doing, there would definitely be no limit to how much Zell could have blackmailed the cowboy for.

Irvine finally remembered why Zell was so excited. He gave the fire his last “That ought to teach you a listen” glare and turned to his eyes towards the hyped up pugilist.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I said,” Zell pronounced extra clearly through his grin, “you’re going to owe me so much Gil that I won’t need my SeeD pay for a year!”

Irvine spit on the ground, undaunted.

“You wanna double that wager, Zelda?” he teased, intent on irking Zell in return for the last week and a half of suffering his companion’s presence had imparted on him.

Zell was in too good a mood to be peeved by such a low-class attempt at knocking his masculinity. “Multiplication increases the amount, genius,” he retorted, “but I guess they’ll teach you that next week.”

“So three times the wager, then,” was Irvine’s answer.

Zell shrugged, saying, “It’s your Gil.”

So this assignment does have its perks. This is a dream come true, Zell thought gleefully.

“If you’re trying to appeal to my conscience, don’t bother. I’m not giving any of this Gil back,” Zell cautioned, still gazing through his binoculars.

“You know, Zell,” Irvine began, “if you had half the brain I had, you’d be rich.”

“How’s that? Half of your wealth? No thanks, jolly rancher fruity,” Zell returned.

Turning slightly red, but still able to endure it, Irvine continued, “Well, you’re going to be twice as sorry, now. How ‘bout we raise the stakes to loser loses a hand?”

Zell paused, but with him sighting Venus first, he saw nothing to worry about. Irvine must have had a hemorrhage or something…I am going too far, taking advantage of him while he’s mentally unstable? he wondered. Still, it’s safer to restrain myself.

“What are you going to do with one hand?” Zell countered. “Think about it, Irvine, you only have two.”

“I don’t need but half of my appendages operational to shoot you dead,” Irvine boasted.

Zell put his binoculars aside, turning on Irvine with a nasty scowl. This was about his skills as a fighter now. The conversation had strayed away from the bank and into the arena.

“I could whoop you with one hand tied behind my back right now. Hell, I’ll even close one eye, hot shot!” he sneered angrily.

“I could take your head off with half a gun!” Irvine bragged.

“Ha! Some sniper you are,” Zell growled at Irvine who just threw his hat on the ground. “We hired you once and you can’t even hit the open target half the time!”

Irvine was steaming now.

“It’s on now, hotdog trash bucket,” he spewed, “we’ll make the wager both hands.”

Zell was beyond restraint so he hastily agreed. We’ll see who is afraid of whom.

Irvine smirked triumphantly. That smug idiot, doesn’t even suspect it…

“See,” he taunted, “this proves that you only have half a brain, nimrod! You can’t chop off your second hand yourself!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’ll still beat you to a pulp!” Zell yelled back.

"Forget that wager, then, chicken," he taunted, before suggesting, "If you lose, you can't sneak upstairs to the study hall and tour the online tutorial for any more Rinoa screen-savers."

Irvine pointed at something behind Zell while he thought about the new consequence, and then handed Zell the binoculars just as the boxer remembered to protest Irvine's slander that carried some ugly insinuations.

"Look again, space boy,” he jeered, “where’s your Venus now?”

Zell made a face back, rudely snatched the binoculars from Irvine, and looked through them again.”

“See that red thing over there? The first interesting thing we’ve seen in weeks. Pay up, loser,” he gloated.

“I had to turn a few gears in my head, but I can’t believe how great my idea was!” Zell shouted, pumping his fist in the air, beaming with pride. “All I had to do to win the bet was whip out the binoculars and spot things farther than you can see.”

Laughing, he clapped his hands together before pumping both fists.

“Zell, you get a pat on the back for this one,” he said to himself, bringing the binoculars to his eyes for another look at his treasure. “What can I say? I’m a genius.”

Irvine tapped the lens and rapped Zell on the head, inducing him to go into a fighting stance and initiate a few jabs. Irvine grabbed the binoculars and turned them around.

“I don’t know if they taught you this in grade school, but most people look through it this way,” Irvine said flatly. “That red thing you saw would be the Ragnarok.”

Zell’s jaw dropped four inches before he helped it back up with his hand.

Impossible! Backwards? There is no way this happening to me! he bemoaned.

“Great idea with the binoculars, partner,” Irvine rubbed in. “What can I say? You’re a genius.”

“B-but it was red!” he sputtered, refusing to believe his egregious error.

“Was color recognition your only qualification to pass the SeeD test at Balamb Garden?” Irvine questioned.

Zell was too embarrassed to mumble anything except, “I know I saw Venus!”

Irvine lifted his hands above his head, shouting, “In broad daylight! Are you mad?”

“Did you not know to look through the smaller lenses, Zell?” Irvine pressed on after regaining his composure. “Or maybe they’ll teach you that in school next week.”

“Okay, okay, I get the point,” Zell conceded grudgingly, “but that doesn’t mean you win.”

“No,” Irvine agreed, “but it will make a hilarious story to tell at dinner parties for years to come.”

Zell paled at the thought. Not again. Stupid, so stupid of you, Zell. There is no way out of this one. Better change the subject before he thinks of other ways to rag on me.

“All right, maybe I wanted to see something, anything out of the ordinary so badly that I made it up? Is that okay?” Zell said, feigning a confession.

Irvine thought about it, still shaking with laughter, but didn’t add anything else. Come on, buy it, buy it, Zell repeated in his head.

Seeing as how he had no more quips left to dish out, Irvine finally shrugged and agreed that they got stuck with a stupid mission. A thought suddenly struck him and he lit up like a bulb. I still have a bag of marshmallows left! Better stop wasting time and tend to them.

Irvine crouched down and started kindling the small flames, nearly extinguished because he hadn’t fed the fire during their bickering. Damn little stones, but thank Eden for Fire Ammo, he beamed.

Zell was horror-struck. Sometimes, I just don’t understand him.

“Irvine, how can you sit there all day long toasting those stupid powder puffs?” he asked, exasperated. “I mean, couldn’t you at least roast some chicobos or something tasty?”

“Shut up and keep your eyes open. You might find something,” Irvine chuckled.

“Hey,” Zell protested, “why shouldn’t you be paying attention to this mission? We’re both responsible for a satisfactory report, you know?”

“I don’t think Cid’s going to be satisfied with anything after how you handled those negotiations at Shumi Village,” Irvine assessed.

Zell spun around, nostrils flaring.

“Don’t shift the blame to me, you rooftop weasel! I wasn’t the one who stepped over the chain and sat on the Elder’s pre-made coffin thinking it was a bench,” Zell shouted, pointing a finger accusingly at Irvine.

Irvine ignored the comment, saying, “Let’s go back a few days in time, shall we? What kind of idiot ambassador would drink from the sanctified reception pan?”

Zell held up his hands in defense. “They offered it to me!”

“To wash your fingers, monkey-brains!” Irvine rejoined. “Do you know how many generations of consecrating and reconsecrating that pan you’ve destroyed?”

Not to mention how upset you made the Moomba when it spilled on his tail.

“How was I supposed to know?” Zell hollered penitently. “I don’t know any Shumi customs! I don’t refer to myself in third person! And I don’t identify myself by my profession!”

“And you obviously didn’t see how every officer there dipped their fingers or flippers into the holy water,” Irvine reminded him.

Zell frowned. Stupid, so stupid of you, Zell. Just like that time you gave away Garden’s name in front of the cameras at Timber.

“I can see the announcement to all the Trabia Garden workers now,” Irvine continued, framing the image he saw before him with his hands, “Balamb Garden student Zell Dincht unilaterally brings all Nova Trabia Garden construction funding to a halt.”

“Whoa, hold your horses, cowboy,” Zell pressed. “Just remember you where you tossed all your empty marshmallow bags. I’m sure the Nest Mother was thrilled that you thought her baby cradle was fit to be a wastebasket.”

“That was stupid,” Irvine admitted, “but nothing compared to what you did to the Artisan’s hut, smart guy. Can you even imagine how many years he’s worked at the request of the entire village on Laguna’s statue, that same one that was crushed by the ceiling? You’d better hope they send the next month’s credit instead of the repair bill or Cid will hang us both.”

“At least we got out of there with our heads still attached to our necks,” Zell said hastily.

“You have to give the Shumi credit for their intelligence,” Irvine went on. “After all, they finally did figure out that kicking Zell out as soon as possible would be the best way to save Gil.”

Actually, Irvine contemplated after reconsidering, if they were really bright, they would have killed us to protect their investment in Trabia…Eden knows what Zell could do to the new Garden’s foundations if he had leveled the Artisan’s hut on accident.

Zell frowned, crossed with their situation and annoyed that the elevator taking them back up to the surface and out of the village seemed to move a lot faster than the initial trip down into the village.

Irvine licked his lips hungrily, only paying attention to not overcooking his snack. His partner looked over at him, half-annoyed at his disconcerting fetish for marshmallows.

“I still can’t believe you put together so many bonfires. Do you know how it’s a capital offense in some of those districts to start a brushfire even on accident?” Zell asked.

“Every place we went to there was always someone who had done it there before I did. I was just following their example,” Irvine pointed out.

“One burnt patch of grass does not make the entire frigid field a marshmallow-toasting reservation!” Zell practically screamed.

“Nobody seemed to mind on Mandy Beach or in the middle of Kashkabald Desert. There wasn’t any danger of starting brushfires in those places,” Irvine offered.

“Nobody toasts marshmallows on the beach or in the desert, that’s the point! It therefore can’t be a federally sanctioned marshmallow-warming site, just like this can’t be,” Zell shouted.

Not content with standing around impatiently while Irvine was enjoying his favorite pastime, Zell was just itching to add, “How many packs have you eaten today?”

Instead, he tried, “Look what you’ve done for the fourth time!”

His eyes a bit tired of the sporadically glistening sparks, Irvine finally took the time look up away from his business and inspect the ground around him. Zell crossed his arms and stood back with a self-satisfied air. They were standing in the middle of a field littered with burnt patches of grass left by Irvine’s random blazing.

Shrugging and squatting back down, Irvine assured Zell, “This is the last bag, which means we’ll have to head back soon and restock. We’ve been out here too long and we haven’t come up with anything new. Sooner or later they’re going to start wondering where we are since the Shumi flop was happened last Monday.”

Zell threw his hands up in the air, yelling, “Get with the program! We can’t go back! We flunked this mission, doofus. We have nothing, after eleven days, to report. Nothing at all!”

Zell held up his hands by Irvine’s face and wiggled his fingers, whispering, “Nothing.”

After some consideration, Irvine suggested, “You know, if you lightened up a bit, you’d realize that Cid thought enough of us to let us check out all the marshmallow-toasting grounds rather than all the mosquito-breeding farms.”

Zell glowered, reflecting bitterly, Yeah, right. Cid thought enough of me to team me up with Irvine instead of any of the girls.

“You’re not helping our cause,” Zell said after a moment. “Should we pack up and head for the hills?”

“What? And leave the Ragnarok here? I think not,” Irvine scoffed.

Zell pondered over Irvine’s suggestion.

“You’re right,” he decided after a moment. “There would be nowhere to hide the ship.”

Irvine laughed, but quieted himself when he saw Zell’s pupils widen in agitation.

“Or,” Irvine said slowly, “we could try what we should do…GO….BACK.”

“Don’t you get it?” Zell hollered, unable to contain himself. “We have nothing to report!”

“We could tell them the intelligence we gathered from Laguna,” Irvine proposed.

Zell had turned bright red.

“Hand it over, Irvine,” he ordered, “whatever you’re using that’s affecting your judgment. I’m not kidding.”

Irvine held up his hands worriedly.

“I’m not high on anything, Zell,” he stammered.

“Think about it, bullet-brain,” Zell told him. “If you tell Squall about any of Laguna’s ‘I’m going to be that father figure that he never had’ stuff, Squall will flip out. If you tell Cid about what Laguna said about the cow missing from Winhill, Cid will flip out. We’re supposed to be monitoring the weather, remember? We have nothing to report!”

Irvine scratched his head, shifting his hat ever so slightly. Apparently even the tiniest bit of jostling was enough incentive for Irvine to carefully adjust his headwear back into its original position instead of offering a solution, much to the annoyance of his company.

Zell could feel the hot vapor jetting out of his ears. That stupid hat of his. He's been fiddling with it for a minute and it still looks like it's in the same place. It's just like Rinoa combing her hair.

"We could tell Cid about Mr. Monkey," Irvine suggested after he was done moving his hat around.

Zell checked to make sure he heard right, then checked to see if his partner was being sarcastic. He'd heard correctly, and there was no sarcasm. Zell's immediate reaction was to kick some sand in Irvine's direction. Do you know how retarded you sound!?

"He'll have us demoted 27 levels to a Lv 4 SeeD!" he cried. "What the Ifrit are you thinking?"

"Intelligence is intelligence," Irvine piped happily. Whether or not it actually sounds intelligent is moot.

Zell rubbed his temples before responding, "Irvine, you have none and we have none. You know, I can't believe you couldn't even find the right shore. How in Terra did you mistake Obel Lake for Mandy Beach?"

Irvine colored slightly.

"So I couldn't tell the difference between the compass north and true north. At least we didn't wander too far from Timber," he said, tipping his hat apologetically. What are you going to do? Shoot me?

"And to think you actually had a conversation with that sea monster," Zell scorned.

Irvine shook his head.

"I was just being polite," he explained. "The least we could do was help him find Mr. Monkey."

"Do you know how crazy that sounds?" Zell retorted. "He probably just made that up so you'd stop humming and go away."

"My humming was nothing compared to you chucking rocks into his lake," Irvine taunted.

“Well,” Zell blustered, “in case you didn’t notice, I was trying to drive him away from the shore, not to attract his attention like some raving idiots I know, who shall remain nameless…IRVINE!!!”

In his mind though, Zell was actually starting to regret not helping that sea creature out. At least then some good would have come out of the trip.

Had we actually gone to Dollet or leafed through the entire forest and found that fur ball, this wouldn't have been a total waste of our time. Now Cid’s going to string us up and feed us to the Blobras in the training center.

"We have zilch to report then," Zell huffed.

Irvine smiled, lifting the stick with his browned marshmallow from the fire.

“Well,” he put forth, “as my mom used to say, ‘If you have nothing to report, you should at least have something in your stomach.’”

“You just made that up!” Zell shouted.

Irvine shrugged. So maybe I did. What are you going to do? Shoot me?

Irvine snickered at the thought, and offered, “It could be worst.” Dammit, Irvine…knock on wood.

Zell had already put his binoculars away and was packing the rest of the camp up. Irvine looked up and asked what he was doing.

“You got the keys?” Zell asked, brushing off the question.

“I thought you had them,” Irvine replied honestly.

“Hey, that’s funny,” Zell played along, but resumed the straight face. “No, it’s not. You were the last one driving, so what did you do with them?”

Irvine had stopped fanning off his steamy marshmallow, sensing imminent trouble.

“I don’t have them, see?” he said, patting his pockets.

Zell could feel himself freaking out. He tried to jump around and release all the anger in him that wanted to blow its way out. It was a given that the show-off driver would not have a sense of direction and would get lost, but I didn’t think the keys would too.

“Irvine,” he said so calmly that it worried the addressee, “remind me again why we even need the keys to pilot the fingerprint-scan-initiated Ragnarok?”

Irvine tried to swallow before answering, but either his mouth was too dry or the swelling lump in his throat was blocking the passage.

“Laguna had the Esthar mechanics modify it to key-ignition mode because he was afraid we might burn off the skin on our fingers while toasting marshmallows.”

Zell’s face froze for a second before he let out a series of profanities that called the name of every GF. He was breathing hard by the time he finished, muttering to himself, “The irony is sickening.”

That’s the result of years of suppressing your feelings right there, Irvine thought, lifting both eyebrows. I wonder if Squall’s outburst would be stronger than a dose of Omega Weapon’s Terra Break.

Zell took a deep breath, letting the anger flow out of him.

“Irvine,” he said, “start crawling around and look for them. I’ll go search every inch of the ship.”

Irvine was about to argue that it was unfair since there was more surface area to cover on the field than in the ship, but he wisely held his tongue. As Zell hurried off, Irvine threw his marshmallow aside with a sigh, and looked sadly at the turf around him.

“It’s not in the ignition, Zell, if that’s where you’re heading first,” Irvine called after him.

We’ll probably all laugh at this someday in the future, he comforted himself, only half-convinced.

Not encouraged by the sight of Zell tripping on the edge of the Ragnarok’s loading ramp, Irvine shook his head. Who am I kidding?

Setting 07: 1417 DAY 15, Nova Trabia Garden Basketball Courts

“I am become a name;

for always roaming with a hungry heart

much have I seen and known – cities of men

and drunk delight of battle with my peers.”

-Tennyson, Alfred Lord

Ulysses 11

“Rinoa! Yo! What’s up!”

That cry surprised Quistis as she was walking across the basketball courts. She considered not stopping, but turned to see who was calling for Rinoa anyway. It's not like they're calling for me, so why am I stopping? she asked herself. But I could have sworn Rinoa told me that she was going to stay in Balamb for two weeks to let things settle in Trabia before coming.

A few sweaty underclassmen ran up to where she stood, looking her over in a manner anything but subtle.

“Hey, Rinoa,” they said amiably, “wanna play a game with us?”

They must be talking past me. Better check.

Quistis looked behind her to make sure Rinoa wasn’t standing right there, and then realized that she was being eyed by at least ten hormone-charged young men. Looking around, she saw at least three other games had stopped to gawk at her. She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended.

I think you have the wrong person.

She heard some shoving, a few “oohs,” “ahhs” and whispering. Someone passed a word of caution, “Watch it fellas’. That’s Squall’s girlfriend. You'd better be careful.” The guys dismissed it casually.

Quistis liked the sound of that and repeated it to herself.

That’s Squall’s girlfriend. You'd better be careful.

“Hey, Rinoa,” a guy off to the right chimed in, “when did you dye your hair blonde? I thought it was black.”

He called me Rinoa.

“Yeah,” another player added, “but it still looks great.”

That guy called me Rinoa.

“Yo, Rinoa,” another one called, “Squall’s not here right now. Do you want me to show you the ropes?”

Quistis was coloring, and she knew it. She wanted to make a grab at her whip and teach a few of them to watch their mouth, but she knew better. Have to control myself. You used to be an instructor. It doesn’t look good on your report to have slaughtered a team of Garden basketball players.

“Hey, I think we have her flustered,” shouted someone standing in front of the growing crowd. “See? She’s shaking all over.”

Maybe switching down to a size 2 today wasn’t the best idea ever.

There were hoots and some jeers followed by a torrent of pick-up lines. It was then that Quistis realized how just how precarious it was to leave her curvaceous little frame sitting in a sea of testosterone. But a part of her kind of envied Rinoa as she moved away. Or so she thought. She heard some disappointed groans behind her, but it was soon drowned out by the jostling of feet. It was painfully loud since nearly all of the games had been halted just to ogle at her.

Quistis turned around again and saw that the distance between the front line and her had closed, despite the steps she had taken in retreat. Looks like there is no way out of this one except the hard way.

There were some pretty lusty offers being openly thrown out now, as well as some dirty talking. She wasn’t sure what the best way to handle the situation was. Unlike at Balamb Garden, where all her devoted “Trepies” would only talk about her behind her back and dream about her when she wasn’t looking at them, there was no such docile fan club here. They also didn’t realize here at Trabia Garden Quistis outranked them even if she didn’t have her instructor status anymore, and that she could have ended their miserable lives if she felt the need to do it. But as it was, no one was there to hold them back, and she had to re-evaluate being jealous of Rinoa before taking off in a mad dash to the far side of the court where there was at least one other game still going on.

Abruptly she stopped, realizing that she had made the wrong choice and now faced a corridor that led to the men’s locker room. Dammit! Diablos take you, girl! Cornered!

There seemed to be no alternative so she reached for her whip as they closed in. In another second their hands would be all over her. She grimaced.

“Rinoa! There you are!” some masculine voice shouted from the back.

For some reason, everyone stopped and took a step back as cookie-inclined six-year-olds do when they’re caught red-handed. Quistis stood on the tips of her toes, but she couldn’t see who had addressed “Rinoa.” The voice didn’t sound like Zell or Irvine’s. It had to be Squall’s.

There was a lot of pushing and complaining as the owner of the voice made his way to the front. Suddenly a group of students in the center of the multitude fell cried out in pain and fell to their feet. There was definitely a scuffle going on, and the ring of students that fell grew larger. Obviously the stranger had decided that it was quicker to fight his way to the front than to weave through the swarm of men. Quistis wondered if her rescuer was Squall, and if he was, where did he learn hand-to-hand combat like that?

Suddenly her protector took flight. He wasn’t retreating; rather he had used the back of one of the fallen students as a stepping-stone and was now running on top of the shoulders of everyone in front of him at an alarming speed. Quistis, as well as all the onlookers, could hardly keep up with him as if their eyes could only see where he had been during his last step. His person was a blur, stepping here and there while kicking every other head he passed, finally making a daring leap off the nose of one unfortunate soul whose face would forever bear his heavy print.

Quistis did not realize how large the crowd had been until she saw the distance between where the man jumped and where he landed, three feet from her. Immediately the crowd made room for their new guest. Two meters seemed a safe distance from his flurry of kicks.

Holy Shiva, Quistis marveled, he hasn’t even broken a sweat.

The stranger dusted himself off. Seeing Quistis, he brightened and ran over to her, beating back any of the extended hands that had frozen in place when he initially called out from the very back.

Quistis had never seen this gentleman before, almost taking him for Squall judging by his voice and hair. She hadn’t been able to get a good view of his face while he was blur, but now she could see that while his eyes effected the same profoundly grave look, his mouth was shaped just a tad bit differently from Squall’s. Who is this guy? she thought.

He pushed her behind him and shouted back at the horde, “Get the Ifrit away from my girl, you underclassmen punks!”

His voice and demeanor were equally frightening, shown by the unanimous decision of the crowd to back up another meter. Either his earlier performance in the crowd had convinced them that Quistis was not worth the fight or every one of them understood that the ominous glimmer in his eyes meant that he was looking forward to actually killing someone.

Oh, to Diablos with it, Quistis thought. She didn’t have a choice anyway, so she grabbed on to the taller man’s arm just to authenticate their mock-relationship. He tensed up when she did it, making her wonder if she should let go, but the crowd seemed to buy what he said, so she didn’t. If he didn’t look so much like Squall, this probably wouldn’t have worked since there is bound to be some people who have seen him. At least his color scheme matches, even though I’ve never seen Squall don a cloak.

There were murmurs coming from various members of the mass. Half of the voices indicated that they believed him to be Squall. Another part thought it would be in their best interests to make a run for it. Everyone left over wanted to stay and see how this affair would end. The wrapped one arm around Quistis for effect, he kept his sharp eyes on each and every movement.

This feels so warm.

Upon realizing that she was actually starting to enjoy this, Quistis slapped herself mentally. She would need to remind herself to follow it up with the physical equivalent at a more opportune time.

“I’m Squall Leonhart, and I have a decision to make,” the stranger declared evenly. “As the commanding officer of SeeD, I can treat this incident as some pretty serious gang harassment, bring it to the attention of the Disciplinary Committee, and report every face that I’ve seen today to have you expelled from all the Gardens...”

During his deliberately extended pause, most of those students who were in clear view either covered their faces or turned around, but no one was ready to leave the spectacle just yet. Quistis herself, by nature a modest girl, was starting to wonder whether she was that desirable.

“...or,” the man continued, giving Quistis a quick pat on the head that would have effected a quick death blow had this been a normal situation, “as an angry boyfriend, I can use this as the perfect excuse to wipe these basketball courts with your faces.”

The last line came out in a menacing growl, which dislodged a few of the front-runners from their places, to the surprise of Quistis. The majority of the students were still unconvinced though. Someone out of view mentioned that Rinoa wasn’t even a SeeD.

“And neither will any of you be if I have anything to do with your recruitment, which I do,” the man barked back.

Quistis was too impressed to close her eyes and fall asleep on his arm. She was starting to feel like a little girl again, shaking off her respectable shell of maturity that had encased her since her promotion to SeeD instructor.

“The way I see it,” the stranger continued, “your best chance is to disappear as quickly as possible because I’m only going to give you until the count of five before you get to help me mop the court and paint the boards red.”

It was as fearsome a threat as it was effectual. As the first count sounded, panic seized the students and they dispersed, the entire body making a quick 180 with the back trampling over the front in their race to get as far away from their Squall as they could in five seconds.

For some reason, her bodyguard skipped the next three numbers, went directly to “5,” and eluded her grasp. In an instant he was on the other side of the quad, nabbing three of the slower students, and ramming another’s face into a stucco column, splattering it with a new coat of scarlet. He heaved his three remaining screaming captives over the quad’s wall into a student seminar and, in three bounds, made his way back across the courts to where some of the more daring players had returned to harass Quistis, assuming her protector had left. They assumed wrong.

That's not humanly possible! she thought furiously as he punched each of them multiple times before they could react and slammed all but one aggressor into the same lamppost, resulting in its bending 30 degrees.

Quistis was more alarmed than impressed at this point. He had saved her, but she couldn't excuse him for the body count. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this last underclassman had no chance of running away faster than the hurricane could catch him.

I guess it's up to me to stop him then. Do I really have to? Yes, girl, you're a senior officer and you have to set an example. Do something before there is nothing left to save!

"Squall!" she shouted, throwing her arms around him so he couldn't move. It caught his attention and as he spun around, still in her grasp, he nearly dug his fist into the curve of her neck. It took every ounce of strength in him to stop the blow after he'd thrown it on instinct. Quistis could feel him tensing up and sighed at how lucky she was, nearly fainting right there.

The last student had fallen down in fright, but being too shaken to crawl away, he just lied there and whimpered.

This was the closest thing to a voluntary hug that Quistis had ever given, and she figured while she was at it she might as well rest her face on his chest, signaling to the junior to pick his feet up and split.

Run, stupid! I'll hold him off.

Her last thought was laughable, and she giggled at it, snuggling deeper into her six-foot teddy bear.

Yes, in order to save the future of SeeD, I will sacrifice myself to this demon…ically handsome freak of nature. Maybe running into that crowd of men dying to get their hands on me was the smartest thing I’ve done this week.

She locked her arms around his shoulders so he couldn’t budge. Without looking up, she asked shyly, “Well aren’t you going to tell me who you are?”

“Nice grip,” he commented.

That’s a pretty weird name, she said to herself.

“That was a compliment,” he added after a few heartbeats had gone by.

“Oh,” she gasped, blushing at her silly oversight.

“There he is!” someone unexpectedly called in their direction from the main corridor.

Both Quistis and her pillow tensed up simultaneously. If she had fooled herself into believing even to the slightest extent that “soft and cuddly” aptly described any part of his figure, she was proven dead wrong. At a second’s alarm, rippling muscles filled every inch of the baggy but still fashionable costume that she wouldn’t have known existed had she not been partially inside his cloak for the past minute.

The hall filled with similar shouts and many portentous footsteps. Quistis eyes widened when she saw every single member of the disciplinary committee running towards them, followed by seven, she counted again, seven sentinel regiments, the entire band armed to the teeth with weapons ready to fire. Even the stranger had wavered. This was one fight in which he felt no urge to make an appearance.

Maybe they’re here to collect these douchebags that tried to grope me, Quistis thought optimistically.

“Stop, thief!” one of the security guards in the lead shouted, lowering his gun to about eye level and pointing it straight at her…or rather the man who had just saved her from a very sticky situation. His reinforcements cocked their guns and aimed them right at her rescuer’s forehead. Numerous red targeting laser dots laced the area by his glistening brow.

Okay, maybe not. He must be one hell of a thief to incur the attention to the entire Garden Disciplinary Committee and half the school’s enforcement resources!

“This is your only warning,” the leader informed him mechanically. “We will shoot if you move.”

“Sergeant Jay,” he called to his subordinate, “apprehend that man.”

Quistis was not prepared to handle this dramatic reversal. Her protective instincts urged her hold him in fear of what might happen if she strayed too far to shield him while her danger sense pressed her to push the criminal as far away from her as possible. Both her mind and body reacted on reflex to the situation without her making clear which to follow, so she ended up awkwardly pulling him closer to her with her left hand and shoving him aside with her right hand.

To her surprise, he whispered to her, “Don’t worry. I never walk away from a fight.”

She was about to shout at him, “Forget your stupid maxim and get moving!” when he slipped through her hold and zoomed across to the far side of the court in the same phantasmal manner as he had done earlier, leaving Quistis with a frown on her face.

Very funny, coward. Chivalry being dead, I’ll try not to feel miffed, she told herself dryly. Oh, Shiva!

Sergeant Jay had a knack for reading people’s body language. Today he had a feeling just by the glint in their burglar’s eyes that he was going to make a run for it. So as soon as he saw the rabble-rousing ruffian bend down slightly and threaten the blonde in the red skirt, he pulled the trigger of his pistol. By the time he saw the man rocket away from the girl, moving her slightly, it was too late to stop the bullet. The girl realized too that the shell was now headed straight at her. All the armed security guards stiffened.

“Ah!” she screamed, feeling the impact whose force now knocked her off her feet.

There were some gasps, and when Quistis’ vision cleared, she looked up dazedly, only to see the cloaked Squall-imposter standing above her, his hand weakly planted against the nearby wall for support. He turned back for me! Thank Eden! Oh no, he’s hit!

The man was bleeding pretty badly. After he knocked her out of the way, the bullet landed between this shoulder blade and sternum. There was blood gushing out at intervals from the corner of his chest where the shot had pierced his black shirt, some parts of the desultory squirts landing on her outfit.

Seeing that the bullet ended up in the right person, all the guards snapped back to life, lifting their guns once again and pointed them at the wounded villain. It would definitely be easier to catch him now, having drawn so much blood with the critical hit. The man’s legs wobbled as he struggled to straighten up.

The explosion of another shot ten times as loud as the misfire filled the courtyard and adjoining hallways. The few remaining students that hadn’t high-tailed out of the area at the sight of the Garden militia jumped out of their skins. All eyes turned to the source of the eruption and found the smoking gun of a lone cowboy, tipping his hat at his newfound audience. Behind him in the clearing was Zell, somersaulting from a dribble and dunking the ball through an untended hoop.

“What the Ifrit are they doing?” Quistis questioned under her breath.

Irvine had seen the whole sequence of events and now faked an embarrassed smile, dropped his gun like he hadn’t meant to touch it, and apologized to the Disciplinary Committee about his gun going off on accident. His free hand on the far side of his body was not visible to the company of security guards, but it was visible to Quistis and their burglar. Irvine hurriedly motioned for the brigand to get take off, and faster than he thought possible the man traversed seven meters to a eight-foot wall over which he scrambled and disappeared. The security guards could not react in time to get off any well-placed shots.

Only Sergeant Jay was far enough ahead of his group and close enough to Quistis that he saw Irvine’s furtive wave to their perpetrator. Quistis could tell he was not happy that Irvine distracted the units and purposely let him escape.

Sergeant Jay marched up to Irvine, who by this time had gone to help Quistis up, hissing at him so that only they could hear, “I might not have any witnesses who can testify that you abetted our criminal’s getaway, but had it not been for your meddling, he would have been ours. I think they’d all agree.”

With his last sentence he motioned towards all the guards behind them.

Irvine coolly looked his addresser in the eyes and rejoined, “I might not have any witnesses who can testify that you were purposely aiming for Quistis’ head since no one else was remotely in that proximity but her by the time you fired, and had it not been for that man there, she would have been dead. I think they’d all agree.”

With his last sentence he motioned towards all the guards behind them. Irvine could see Sergeant Jay’s jaw muscles tightening and his fingers closing into a fist.

“This is not over, trigger,” he growled at last, putting his finger right in Irvine’s face. Then he marched back to his division and apologized to his commanding officer for failing to capture their target. Eventually all the troops cleared out of the corridor, leaving Irvine and Quistis scowling at the fading sound of footsteps.

Irvine looked back at Quistis, gloating. He opened his arms and asked, “So what do I get-“

She had pulled him down and landed a wet one on his cheek. He was utterly stunned at how little persuasion that took. Nothing like the cold shoulder she gave me at the party.

“Geez, you move fast, Quistis,” he said, laughing. “Guess that admirer of yours isn’t the only one with fast moves.”

He found himself lying flat on his back in the dust a second later.

“That’s what you get for not coming to help me sooner,” Quistis carped.

Irvine jumped up with an incredulous smile. I just saved your tight hiney back there!

He was in the middle of picking himself up when she kicked away the leg that he was putting all his weight on. He landed face down this time. I’ll never understand women.

“And that is for the smart remark,” she added before leaving him and strutting towards Zell.

She only made it halfway before she felt a cool kiss on her ear. She nearly jumped, and turned her head quickly but her eyes did not pick up on anything. Irvine is still deciding if it’s safe to get up, so who in the Ifrit touched me?

She felt the cool kiss again and realized that it was just Shiva, cozying up to her as always. The icy, voluptuous GF was in her stealth mode, her body acting as a transparent sheet and thus appeared invisible.

“What are you doing here?” Quistis whispered. She had to be careful to not speak in Shiva’s direction, knowing well how her breath would become visible vapor in Shiva’s chilled vicinity, a dead giveaway of the hidden GF’s presence to Irvine.

“Princess, you called me, remember?” Shiva turned the question around, each one of her chilly words nipping Quistis’ cheek. Quistis’ face always seemed to be rosier after a touch of frost.

Quistis looked aside and recalled that she had mentally exclaimed, “Oh, Shiva!” just as Sergeant Jay unloaded his gun in her direction.

She hissed acerbically to Shiva but tenderly nevertheless, “You took your sweet time getting here.”

“You called at a bad time. I was trying to take a bath,“ the other answered back softly, caressing Quistis’ chin.

Quistis was distracted from wondering how the ice goddess could take a shower in a frozen block of ice because Shiva had begun to dance around her mistress, playing with Quistis' hair and massaging her shoulders. If it hadn’t been so hot outside, Quistis would have told her to stop, but since it was, each cool stroke felt splendid.

“Just be careful not to step on the ground while you’re flying. In this heat, you're bound to be melting a little and they’ll notice your curious little wet footprints,” Quistis cautioned. It used to be hard to speak without moving her lips, but she had gotten used to chatting with Shiva day after day in this manner.

Shiva snuggled in for a chilly but sugary hug, whispering back, “You’re always looking out for me, but I’m the one who’s supposed to be the Guardian Force, remember?”

“Yeah, good job protecting me today while I was standing in a crossfire,” Quistis teased.

“I told you I was busy,” Shiva murmured.

“Yeah, busy waiting for the bath-water to thaw,” Quistis emended playfully.

She could imagine Shiva pouting with her trademark “You’re no fun” face. For someone thousands of years old, Shiva still looked and acted like she was 17.

“Well, I didn’t want to intrude,” she explained innocently. “You looked like you had company.”

“Yes, and thanks to him you still have someone to guard,” Quistis rejoined with feigned bitterness.

“I’ll thank the dear in my own way the next time I see him, then,” Shiva replied smoothly. “He did look kinda cute.”

For some reason what the GF said ruffled Quistis a little.

“You’d better get going. You might start steaming under the sun and it won’t look to discreet if I approach Zell while engulfed in a fog,” Quistis said under her breath.

“Toodaloo, then, sweet-cheeks!” laughed Shiva as she flitted back into nothingness. Somehow she managed to sneak in a quick kiss before her mistress could do anything.

Quistis had now gotten closer to the court that Zell was occupying, and he looked up from his practice. Irvine was now just a few steps behind her, his legs still shaky from her putting him in the dirt. Zell set the ball down, waved to Quistis, and then looked around with a puzzled expression. I don’t see Rinoa anywhere.

“Where’s Rinoa? I thought I heard someone call her a few minutes ago.”

Quistis blushed and muttered, “No, just little, ol’ me. Someone thought I was Squall’s girlfriend.”

Zell reddened and then hit himself again. Oops, now look what you did, Zell. Stupid, so stupid of you, Zell. You knew it was a touchy subject, so why didn’t you just shut up?

Quistis realized that they hadn’t paid any attention to what was happening outside their own game and only Irvine had bothered to go over and check out what was so noisy in the closing minutes of the brawl.

“Didn’t you see all that commotion back there? Why didn’t go check it out?” she asked.

“It’s bad luck to leave in the middle of a game,” Zell explained.

“Why did Irvine come over for a look then?” Quistis remarked.

Zell shrugged and stated the obvious, “He was losing.”

“11-3 is hardly losing, mama’s boy,” Irvine chimed in.

Zell raised his fists belligerently, growling, "Just remember that's in my favor."

“So what are you doing here anyway?” Irvine inquired, hastily changing the subject.

“What are you two doing here?” Quistis returned. She was totally unprepared to deal with them.

“He asked first,” was Zell’s childish reply, unexpectedly jumping in and helping Irvine. Irvine nodded and shot Zell a grateful look. He bent over to pick up the basketball before looking back over at Quistis, just to let her know that they were waiting for her answer.

“The number of robberies in the past week are skyrocketing. I’ve been trying to find Squall since noon to ask him what precautions should be taken and whether it was about time to assign a special task force to solve the problem. I looked in all his usual hiding places, and someone told me that he frequented the basketball courts, so here I am,” she explained.

“Wasn’t that your 'problem' who we just allowed to jump over the wall?” Irvine asked, shooting a jumper.

Quistis blinked. She hadn’t connected how good at stealing things the stranger was with his agility and how many complaints of robbery were coming into the Garden’s security department mailbox. After today’s odd sequence of events, she was even less sure how to handle the situation than at the start when she was trying to solicit Squall’s advice.

“Okay, your turn to answer why you are here,” Quistis said, moving on.

“Because we finished our SeeD Lv A-class mission, of course,” Irvine shot back with an overly proud and cheesy grin. Had to answer her somehow. This was better than nothing.

Just to draw everyone's attention from his weak answer, he launched the ball towards the hoop.

Zell started sweating. Please don’t ask us why we didn’t report back to Balamb Garden. Please don’t ask us why we didn’t report back to Balamb Garden. Please don’t…

“Why didn’t you report back to Balamb Garden?” Quistis asked, skeptically raising an eyebrow.

“Trabia was a lot closer than Balamb Garden,” Zell said hastily. “I mean, we’ve been practically ten minutes away from here for the past few days.”

Plus we wouldn’t have to answer to Headmaster Cid directly if we were at another Garden, Zell added silently, pretending to watch Irvine as he made another shot attempt.

“Why didn’t you guys rest and eat here then? There is plenty of room,” Quistis asked.

Like we didn’t think of that all that time we were stranded out there, Irvine reflected bitterly.

“We had, uh, plenty of ration bars on the ship,” Zell made up after an extended period of silence during which he pretended to be looking at something in the distance.

“Yeah, lots of ration bars,” Irvine agreed too quickly to be taken seriously with overly enthusiastic nodding. He coughed as a distraction and tried an underhanded toss.

“Like rooms full of ration bars,” Zell repeated, just to make sure she didn’t miss it.

“You’re not in trouble, kids,” Quistis said quickly. “Headmaster Cid said you completed your mission just as he expected.”

Irvine misfired when he heard that, and exchanged puzzled looks with Zell.

“The Shumi signed the contract agreeing to fund this Garden to its completion,” Quistis explained. “Apparently, just as Cid figured, you two left them thinking how weak-minded and exploitable the new Garden trainees would be once it was built, giving them every reason to make the rest of the payments. He also got you two out of the way for two weeks so you wouldn’t screw up anything too serious to fix during the initial foundation construction.”

“Never had a doubt that we couldn’t handle it,” Zell beamed. Thank Eden! I was so scared. Hey, wait, I’ve been used. They used me, how dare they! Wow, I’ve been used, that’s so awesome!

“Yeah,” Irvine added with a big smile as he threw the ball up again, “we eat double missions for breakfast.”

Breakfast is my least favorite meal, Irvine thought to himself. We lucked out big time. Hey, wait, I’ve been used. They used me, how dare they! Wow, I’ve been used, that’s so awesome!

He and Zell gave each other high-fives and broke out into a big celebration, praising each other for all the good things that they did and did not do alike. At the same time they inched towards the archway leading to the exit.

“Back to your second objective,” Quistis cut in before they had a chance to sneak away, “did it really take you two weeks to check out the weather?” The two men froze but instantly recovered and tried to mask the guilt written on their faces with innocent smiles.

Don’t think I didn’t notice how you two dodged my original question. I still remember, Quistis thought coolly. She put her hands on her hips and waited for a real answer.

Just play dumb, Zell proposed silently.

We should play dumb, Irvine agreed mentally, trying his luck with the rim again.

Don’t play dumb, Quistis communicated with her glare alone.

“It wasn’t our fault that we just got a list of geographical locations and no directions as to how to get to those places,” Zell and Irvine whined in harmony.

Quistis crossed her arms. They obviously practiced that for at least three hours.

“I don’t buy it. The place names are unique, there is no other Mandy Beach, regardless to what landmark you are using as reference,” Quistis scoffed. “Try again.”

Irvine and Zell put their heads together to brainstorm some other possible excuses when Quistis spoke up, “And the truth this time. I’ve already lost a GF today, was nearly gang-raped by an entire courtyard of boys, been held at gun point and shot at, so I really don’t need you two lying to me.”

The faces of both men grew interested so immediately and concurrently that Quistis could tell it was deliberate. Irvine even set the ball down, either because it would have proved distracting to their conversation or he felt it better to stop embarrassing himself.

“Gosh,” he exclaimed, simulating a flabbergasted expression, “how did you manage to lose a GF?”

“You’re not getting off that easy,” she said, just so they’d know, “but I suppose if you’re interested...”

Her two-man audience played the roles of sympathetic, appreciative, and engrossed listeners too perfectly to be convincing.

“I lost Alexander this morning,” Quistis said, sighing.

“The GF that looks like a castle?” Zell asked.

Quistis nodded, her hands closing over each other in anxiety.

“What do you mean you lost him?’ Irvine questioned. “What did the castle do? Get up and walk away without anyone noticing?”

“Drop the sarcasm, Irvine,” Quistis told him. “He didn’t just walk away. He asked me first.”

“So you managed to lose a very polite castle,” Irvine summed up what she was saying, putting on a serious face and trying to understand.

Zell would have liked to see if Quistis could grammatically link all the profane expressions, but he felt it necessary to interrupt Quistis while she was unloading more rounds of blasphemy on Irvine than he had Pulse Ammo in his gun.

“Didn’t you try to stop him?” Zell asked her, not looking at Irvine truly grateful face.

“What was I to do? Stand in front of him and hold up my arms while he mowed me down?” Quistis objected.

Zell furtively punched Irvine before Quistis could turn and see him signaling that the idea had merit.

“No, I meant with your words,” Zell explicated. “I’ve never seen you get outtalked by anyone.”

Quistis beamed at the honest compliment.

“I did try, but he had made up his mind already,” she elucidated.

“Why was Alexander so eager to go?” Zell tried next.

“Not to mention,” Irvine jumped into the conversation, “where could he have gone?”

“He seemed to think that it was now or never, so he just got up and moved out into the ocean,” Quistis recalled with a frown.

“Oh,” Irvine acknowledged, nodding with comprehension, “so he didn’t just wander off and disappear.” I wonder how long it will take to dry and scratch off all the algae that he’ll have picked up by the time he resurfaces.

“No,” Quistis reassured, “he asked me to give him a sabbatical.”

“I didn’t know SeeDs were in the business of giving their GFs vacation time whenever they ask for,” Irvine marveled. No wonder you got fired from being the SeeD instructor.

“This is after he threatened to quit my employment,” Quistis added. This has nothing to do with how I lost my teaching license, if that’s what you’re thinking.

“So it gets better,” Irvine grunted, obviously pleased.

“What else did he do?” Zell asked, ignoring his partner’s air headedness.

“He wanted to go on strike,” Quistis replied.

“What kept him from carrying out either action?” Zell inquired.

“I told him that the SeeD manual only allows for the Master to rescind employment, not the GF, and that the Supreme Court had outlawed GF strikes,” Quistis replied.

“So he just got up and left?” Zell repeated.

“As if Alexander was going to use the ‘Sit Down’ as a strike tactic,” Irvine cracked.

“That’s unconstitutional, by the way,” Zell whispered to him before continuing, “Did he say what the purpose of his journey was?”

“It was all unintelligible,” Quistis replied. “I had a hard time understanding him, but I think it has to do with some book.”

Zell and Irvine raised eyebrows concomitantly.

“What book?” they asked in harmony.

Quistis scowled and tapped her forehead, trying to put piece everything back together. She sighed at length and shrugged, making her best guess:

“I think he said it was titled ‘Alexandria’ and that it had a face on the cover.”

“It must be one special book,” Irvine commented. “Is he in the habit of collecting books?”

“Have you ever seen his library?” Quistis answered with her own question.

Irvine was apparently too good for libraries, so he teased, “I’m not the one who frequents libraries to pick up the librarians. That honorably practice belongs to our mutual friend Zell.”

Zell colored, crying indignantly, “Hey! Mina was a model before she started working in Balamb Garden.”

“Some model she must have been if our library can afford to pay her more than she was making,” Irvine criticized.

Quistis saw that the men would soon come to blows if she did not step in, so she intervened by describing the library.

“I’ve been inside Alexander a few times and the library is pretty queer,” she began. “It doesn’t operate like a normal library; rather it's more like a private collection. No one is allowed to borrow any books and taking them from the room is prohibited. He kept referring to ‘Alexandria,’ so I suspect it is the reason behind that rule.”

“And you think this book drove him to leave,” Zell finished for her, grudgingly putting aside how Irvine had impugned his girlfriend’s capacity.

“It had to have been. That’s all he was mumble about,” Quistis replied with another shrug.

Irvine rubbed his chin, wondering what a castle could mumble about a book.

Quistis read him perfectly, and reacted saying, “He went on about a blue rodent that lived inside his book between the pages 165 and 200. No one was to flip through it under any circumstance because it was dangerous.”

“What can I say?” Irvine admitted smugly as he did some stretches. “Reading is deadly and should be avoided at all costs. I rest my case.”

Zell scowled and said to Quistis, “You’re right, it is kind of random. Do you recall anything else he might have said? Any words that caught your attention? Place names, maybe?”

“Galbadia I heard twice definitely. Something about waterfalls. That’s it,” she replied.

“Why didn’t he think it could wait?” Zell probed.

“Did you see this coming, or has he never exercised such impulsive behavior before?”

Quistis thought it over before answering, “He was always the quiet type. You know, he never talked much.”

Irvine called upon a dreadfully contemplative look. Ah, yes, the quiet castle, I know the type well.

He was lucky that Quistis was too busy trying to recall something about her GF to look at him, otherwise he would have ended up on the ground again. Her face suddenly lit up.

“I remember now!” she cried, beaming. “The moment we reached the Deep Sea Research Center, he’s been volatile.”

“That’s a weird reason to be disruptive,” Irvine remarked.

Zell agreed before asking Quistis if there were other points in time when Alexander demonstrated a plethora of atypical behavior. It was a tough question, so Quistis took some time before answering it.

“I believe,” she said tentatively, “he became more withdrawn as time went by, and even after we left the Research Center I could sense some hostility in him.”

“You should have fed him at the right times, walked and played with him more,” Irvine chastised, shaking his finger at her.

It would be major euphemism to say that Quistis was less than pleased. The truth of it was that she was a hair shy of spitting fire.

Irvine eyes were nowhere near as dumb as his mouth, and he suppressed his gasp to look dejectedly at his shoes. I could have sworn at a distance she looked better than a Red Dragon!

“No,” Zell interrupted, “let’s think this through. Obviously what happened there started to worry him and whatever the rodent in the book told him unnerved him enough to pack his bags and hit road, so to speak. What is his relation with the Deep Sea Research Center?”

Irvine rolled his eyes and said, “You aren’t taking this rodent episode seriously, are you?”

Quistis shushed him, sensing that Zell was almost on to something.

“There had to be a cause for his urgency,” Zell reasoned aloud. “Did he mention any names besides ‘Alexandria’?”

Quistis licked her lips and pondered for a bit.

“He was talking rather quickly, but I think he may have mentioned Bahamut and Eden,” she pronounced slowly.

“So he went into the ocean to do what?” Zell continued, still trying to figure out the connection between Alexander, Bahamut, and Eden.

“To find whatever the book told him to find, I guess,” Quistis responded.

Zell looked skeptical.

“Impossible,” he said. “There is no way he could have excused himself and left the purpose of his trip so ambiguous. If there is an urgency, there has to be a cause. If he is responding, then he must think he can still do something to placate the emergency.”

Quistis’ face froze and she slowly lifted her head.

“’To keep Bahamut from my township and die for Eden’,” she recalled.

“Did he say that?” Zell asked. “What township then?”

Quistis shrugged, saying, “Beats me.”

“So do you think he was looking for a township then?”

“Looking for one to claim as his own,” Quistis suggested.

“That will be hard, considering there aren’t that many unclaimed towns lying around,” Irvine pointed out sarcastically.

“Thank you, great Irvine, master of the obvious,” Zell boomed with every intent to cow him.

“Maybe he didn’t mean all the nouns literally,” Quistis suggested. “Could ‘Bahamut,’ ‘township,’ and ‘Eden’ be symbolic?”

“As in battle evil for world peace?” Zell asked doubtfully.

“That’s not naive,” Irvine scoffed, tipping his hat.

“So just to make sure I have this right,” Zell said, “the rodent told him to do protect the township?”

“I got the impression that the rodent tipped him off, but that the actual order came from someone else,” Quistis replied.

Zell looked at her curiously. How in the world did you infer that?

Quistis explained quickly, “I think Alexander was confused at the time, but he seemed to think that I had told him to leave.”

Irvine smirked at Quistis’ words. I’d say he was pretty confused then.

“I don’t follow,” Zell admitted.

“He just repeated over and over that I had told him to leave, which of course is absurd,” Quistis clarified.

“To leave, but not to save the town and all that jazz,” Irvine observed.

Zell nodded, seeing where Irvine was going with the issue.

“Yes, so maybe he’s leaving because some other Quistis dismissed him and he’s trying to indulge himself with some pre-retirement getaway."

“That other Quistis must have been pretty dumb,” Irvine commented lightly.

“I concur with your opinion about the weak-minded other Quistis,” Zell followed up, nodding.

Quistis had, meanwhile, turned bright red.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here to hear you!” she shouted, taking a few unconscious steps towards them.

“Sorry,” Zell apologized, suppressing his laugh while he and Irvine both took a few unconscious steps back, “but the idea that you told him to go save the world is even more ludicrous than him running off to save the world by himself.”

“If ‘Bahamut’ and ‘Eden’ aren’t symbolic terms, why would he mention them?” Quistis countered.

“They are his fellows,” Irvine noted. “Why shouldn’t he mention their names?”

“Actually,” Quistis corrected, “Alexander secretly hated those two GFs with passion.”

This was news to Zell, and it would have been to Irvine had he not been preoccupied with catching a midget Bite Bug whose presence had somehow offended him. Zell leaned in, saying, “Come again?”

“He never spoke to Bahamut,” Quistis informed him, “and every time he passed by Eden, he’d stiffen.”

Irvine scratched his ear and asked how she could tell when a castle stiffened.

“I think we can discount the symbolism theory,” Zell spoke up, directing her attention away from Irvine.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because there is probably a more viable connection between Bahamut and Eden than what they could mean symbolically if you stretched them,” Zell assured.

“Such as?”

“We acquired both of them in the Deep Sea Research Center,” Zell stated simply.

Irvine nodded and reminded Quistis, “Yeah, it took three Red Dragons to get to Bahamut on the first floor, and we had to draw Eden from Ultima Weapon in the basement.”

“Holy Shiva, you’re right!” Quistis exclaimed. “But what do they have to do with Alexander?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but all that’s important is that he will eventually come back after he finds it, right?” Zell replied, popping his knuckles.

“I’m not sure if he’ll ever return,” Quistis responded, “because he mentioned settling somewhere above three parallel waterfalls.”

“Sounds more like a place of fantasy than reality,” Irvine remarked.

“Did he get this idea from the book, too?” Zell asked.

Quistis nodded, her body language expressing clearly, “What can you do?”

“There’s one thing you can be sure of, though,” Irvine guaranteed.

Both Zell and Quistis turned to look at him.

“He’s convinced that his time is almost up, and that your time together is definitely up. Obviously it wasn’t a vacation that he requested; it was a resignation,” Irvine concluded.

He hit it right on the mark. For a long time, no one spoke but dead silence.

“Well,” Irvine comforted, “if it makes you feel any better, you only lost a GF, but Alexander, man, that boy has completely lost it. One crazy castle!”

“Fine,” Quistis wrapped up abruptly, “I’ve said my part. Stop dodging my original question and tell me why it took you two that long to get back.”

Seeing how they had no more options, Irvine pointed at Zell at the same time Zell pointed at Irvine. Quistis held up her hands and started walking away, regretting ever asking. Irvine picked the basketball up for another shot. Quistis assumed it was because he would not be satisfied until he lost all face.

“Nutrient bar boy here dropped the keys in the field and it took us two days to find them,” Irvine answered hastily, pointing at Zell in the process.

“Save it; I don’t want to hear it,” Quistis said, rolling her eyes as she moved out of hearing range.

Squall, where are you? she wondered, but still glad to be back on track. It didn’t take long for her mind to wander astray though, and soon, without realizing it, her thoughts turned to wondering who her tall, cloaked rescuer really was.

Irvine took one eye off the spot on the backboard for which he was aiming to watch Quistis disappear around the corner of some building. He shouted over to Zell, “Hey, we can keep playing now. What was the score, 6-7 my lead?” he asked.

“You wish. You stink at this game. Don’t think that during her gabbing, I didn’t notice the ten practice shots you took from that same spot where you're standing now all rattled out,” Zell quipped.

“It was actually only eight shots if you kept count, but okay, 8-5 your lead, then,” Irvine tried.

“It’s not negotiable, Irvine,” Zell said with finality.

Irvine lifted his nose and projected his “Who needs you” vibes. Then he smiled sneakily as he called for his GFs. Tonberry King and Jumbo Cactuar appeared out of thin air and fell a few feet onto the court, adorning the originally flat surface with four ugly indentations.

“Hey,” Zell protested, “that’s cheating!”

Irvine stuck his tongue out.

“No one is saying that you can’t pull out your own GFs, crybaby,” he teased.

“You know I don’t have any GFs junctioned right now!” Zell shouted.

Irvine shrugged. Your loss.

“You’re going to get into some big trouble,” Zell cautioned.

“Who would be bored enough to hang up some “No GFs on the court” signs around here?” Irvine reasoned out loud. “No one. So it’s not against the court rules.”

Zell looked anything but convinced.

“Besides,” Irvine added with a casual shrug, “Quistis isn’t here.”

“That’ll work,” Zell conceded readily, eyes flashing, "but let's make it a quick game. I gotta go upstairs to the computer room and download some things."

To himself, he added, I hear the screensavers calling to me.

Setting 08: 1820 DAY 15, Trabia Coast-bordering Cliffs

“All times I have enjoy’d

greatly, have suffer’d greatly; both with those

that loved me, and alone.”

-Tennyson, Alfred Lord

Ulysses 7

“It’s your turn, Doomtrain.”

The locomotive Guardian Force stirred to life after the GF Diablos reminded him whose go it was. Beside him sat the three-headed dog GF Cerberus, each head having demanded to play a different hand. Cerberus A stared curiously at all the rotors chugging sleepily back to life and the smoke puffing out of the engine. Even Cerberus B had to pause and watch the windshield wipers come to life, clearing the ash that had built up and blocked Doomtrain’s burning eyes. Meanwhile, Cerberus C snuck a quick peek at Cerberus B’s cards.

“What?” Doomtrain rumbled. “My go? What did Ifrit put down?”

“We’re skipping him,” Diablos hissed, his wings rustling from his annoyance at Ifrit’s early leave that had delayed the game. Cerberus A wanted to wait for him, but Cerberus B and C outvoted him.

“I didn’t call you out to play a game of Bluff,” Squall reminded sternly, his irritation brewing.

All the GFs turned to the cliff edge and whined cacophonously to their master, sitting with his relaxed feet hanging over the edge. They could not see anything but the darkened outline of their master because he was resting right in front of them, facing the setting sun.

"I wonder why the richest man in the world has to mope," Diablos muttered under his breath.

"What do you mean?" Cerberus A asked, lifting his head. "I didn't know he was rich."

"That's because your body didn't come with three brains," Diablos sneered.

Cerberus A didn't get the insult, Cerberus C chose to ignore it, while Cerberus B sighed, rolled his eyes, and explained it to his first head, "The need for Gil was so pathetic throughout all the missions from the liberation of Timber through the killing of Ultimecia that he racked up enough to retire early, live to old age in luxury, and even support a hearty family of fourteen."

"Fourteen exactly?" Cerberus A asked incredulously.

Cerberus C whispered over Cerberus B's head to tell Cerberus A that he was drooling.

"You left out the part about our Master's intentional manipulation of the frequency of pay," Diablos commented with an artificial yawn.

Cerberus C was now as lost as Cerberus A and they both looked towards the middle head for an answer other than extortion.

"Master figured out that pay came with the number of steps he took, not by this new time clock system. Cid saw how much money was flowing into Master's account and realized that he was deliberately going out of the way in every mission."

"Did Cid scold him?" Cerberus C questioned.

Cerberus B shook his head, replying, "He just assumed that Master was spending that time chasing after Rinoa…as if."

"I was under the impression that there was a flat rate per mission with the hazard pay determined by a linear relationship between level of danger and bonus rewarded," Doomtrain rumbled, cutting into the conversation.

"If that were the case, he never would have gotten his first paycheck since Timber still isn't officially liberated," Diablos scoffed, showing his vicious-looking teeth through a triumphant grin.

"I forgot about that," Cerberus A murmured.

"Don't worry about it," Cerberus B comforted. "We weren't around at the time so you couldn't have known."

"He's never around," Cerberus C criticized Cerberus A disgustedly.

Just meters away, Squall Leonhart found it hard to concentrate on his problems with all the chatter going on behind him. He looked down and stared at his new sandals that didn’t quite match the orange t-shirt he was wearing, finally wondering where Ifrit had gone for the past five minutes.

Whatever it is, It had better be important, Squall reflected bitterly.

The GFs convinced Squall to let them have until Ifrit’s return to play. That way they wouldn’t have to catch him up on matters.

“Where is he anyway?” asked Squall, clearly irritated by having to wait.

“GFs have lunch breaks, too, Master,” Diablos informed Squall.

Squall pointed at the sun setting in front of their eyes.

“It’s a bit late for lunch,” Leonhart hissed, not having decided between an acerbic tone or a confrontational one.

“Some GFs go by Greenwich time,” Diablos clarified, warranting a look from Squall so hostile that he decided it would be safe to shut up for awhile.

“It seems like he’s taking the rest of the day off,” their Master grumbled.

“Didn’t you clock out at noon to take the rest of the day off, Master Squall?” Cerberus B asked.

Point taken. You can shut your trap now.

Cerberus B was, in Squall’s opinion, the smartest of the three heads.

What did Ifrit do today to deserve a lunch break? At least I put up some signs around the basketball courts before I clocked out, Squall thought spitefully.

Cerberus B was now whining about an itch that no one was willing to scratch for him even if Cerberus A consented to being scratched. Cerberus C could care less. Diablos had considered having Leviathan play in Ifrit’s place but he realized that Leviathan would ruin the cards with water. It had taken him seven centuries to find a deck of fireproof cards so Ifrit could play, and he would have to damn himself if he wanted to find one that was both fireproof and waterproof. Diablos shuddered at the thought of Cid noticing the deck missing from his bottom drawer.

Hell, he thought, brushing the idea off casually, if that ever happened, we could just blame it on Squall.

Cerberus C noticed that Diablos wasn’t paying attention to what Doomtrain was putting down. He must be thinking up something sinister. Sheesh, look at that creepy grin.

Squall reached over his right shoulder to scratch an inch. It turned out to be one of those infernal, internal itches so he just crossed his arms and huffed.

How am I supposed to ponder the matters of state with all this going on? My back is burning, my ears are burning, and now I'm even smelling something burning! he thought furiously.

It suddenly occurred to him that what he was smelling was the part of the suffocating odor that unquestionably emanated from the all too familiar GF, Ifrit. He was about to turn his head and carp at the monster, but caught himself. He was Squall, and Squall turned for no one.

"Where have you been?" he asked aloud, resuming his empty stare at his sandals. These are some really nice sandals.

All the GFs looked up and wondered which of them the Master was addressing, but instantly caught on that their playmate had returned. In the middle of welcoming the fiery GF back, they realized that while his return was synonymous with resuming the card game without skipping anyone, Squall had decided to end the party with Ifrit's arrival. Thus, just by listening to the drop in intensity of the greetings, Squall could tell that the initial unanimous excitement had shriveled into sure disappointment.

"Had to ask Squaresoft, Inc. about a ruling," Ifrit responded with his usual raspy voice.

He shot a knowing look at Diablos and added with emphasis on the third word, "And you don't get to put more than 4 of the same monster in the deck for Bluff just because they are Triple Triad cards."

Diablos cursed and threw down the 19 Elnoyle cards he'd been holding, his ploy having been exposed. He suddenly blushed at the sharp look that each of the players was giving him, demanding that he pay them back all the Gil of which he had cheated them.

"What took you so long?" Squall asked, not distracted by the mess Diablos was in.

"There was a flight delay due to hazardous weather," Ifrit replied calmly.

That's no excuse to abandon our discussion about Rinoa! Squall decided. His eyes narrowed, but he didn't pursue the topic. Ifrit sensed that Squall was letting him off easy, so he considered slipping quietly into the mass of GFs that was beating the Gil out of Diablos. That would have been the smarter thing to do, but seeing how Squall had been a problem-child since he first took him up, Ifrit stayed where he was to endure the grilling that would somehow make Squall feel more secure about himself.

I was never good with human relationships, Squall considered, slipping back into his own world of deep thought. To Diablos with it if I haven't gotten use to getting left behind all the time. My mother left me, Laguna left me, Sis left me, now...

Ifrit was shuffling his feet, at which Squall frowned but continued to ponder.

Is it really just because I'm that kind of person? What do they expect? Someone who won't drive them away?

Squall's mind froze for a second, whether because he just became aware that Ifrit's nail-biting was more annoying that his feet-shuffling, or because he just characterized himself as a love repellent. He scratched his head desperately, looking for an alternative.

This can't be right! Am I that undesirable? Does no one want me? Am I just a piece of property that gets passed around from one passerby to the next unfortunate soul, to someone who blames his luck for getting stuck with me?

Ifrit yawned ostentatiously, but Squall was just barely able to hold himself back from lashing out at him right then.

I must carry no value if no one values my companionship. Shareware gets passed around. I'm a demo, then, a fake. No one wants to end up with me.

He blinked with a start, and when his eyelids lifted, they revealed two eyes wide with fear.

I'm a disease, he concluded sadly.

Ifrit felt that something was wrong but did not venture to ask.

So that's the deal? Squall asked himself, summing it up. I get picked up, used, exploited, and then dropped because I'm not good enough? It was their turn, and now that they're done, they want to get rid of me?

Ifrit was getting really worried now, seeing Squall's fingers curling into a tight fist, the muscles along his arm all bulging from the tension.

I guess they figure they can just toss me back into the gutter like some stray dog. It's of no cost to anyone since I was an orphan anyway. Of course I have no value, then. I was just someone else's leftovers to begin with.

Ifrit did not like the look on Squall's face, wrestling in pain, anger, doubt, and hate. He tried to quiet the fight between the other GFs, but they didn't notice. Ifrit prepped himself to interrupt Squall's thoughts, knowing well the brutal consequences of the offense.

Squall recalled his earlier comparison about his being a disease. I'm more like a poison than an infectious disease. Everyone tries to find a cure from me, and the just leave when they see that it won't work. They think I'm a poison so they want to change me. Do I really want to change for some people that can't see me as something better than that to begin with?

Ifrit coughed purposely and tried to tap his Master on the shoulder.

Squall spun around, eyes flashing so horribly that Ifrit decided wisely to back off.

So Rinoa is just like the rest of them, he thought, resuming right where he left off in his brooding. She'll leave me if she hasn't already left.

"If there isn't anything else, I'll be leaving," Ifrit said finally after working up enough courage. He had no idea that it was the worst thing to say at that instant.

"You're not going anywhere!" Squall shouted, jumping up and taking Ifrit by the horns before giving it an aggressive shake. The squabbling GFs behind the two stopped in surprise. Ifrit was usually Squall's scapegoat, and every time he got told, it was a highly-prized and gratifying experience, envied by every GF not junctioned to Squall.

Hardly noticing how the fire spirit’s horns had begun to sear the flesh of his palms, but startled by his own uncharacteristic outburst, Squall let go of Ifrit's horns and began pacing. He pulled out a rolled baby Malboro tentacle from the case in the pocket of his jeans.

This is driving me crazy, he thought, shaking his head. I have to calm down. I have to have a cigarette. Have to have one.

Ifrit brushed his hand over the end of the roll and lit it as Squall held it out.

Nobody spoke for awhile. It seemed safer to let him work out his frustration along with the fumes he was exhaling.

Doomtrain finally broke the silence.

"If status defects are what you are looking for, I can speed up the process for you," he rumbled.

"That's not too healthy, Master," Ifrit agreed.

"I suppose you want to tell me that dating a sorceress is healthy," Squall barked at them.

"I was just coming to that," Ifrit said hastily. This was what all the GFs had been waiting for, a perfect opportunity to bring into open discussion what Squall had been wanting to say for the past few hours.

"Do you want me to kill her for you?" Diablos offered, running his tongue over his fangs.

Squall pretended that he hadn't heard that. He reached in his pocket and jingled the keys it carried to the spanking new, blue A09-series Garden motorbike, the next generation of jet-propulsion A08 motorbikes on which the Galbadian soldiers had ridden while attacking Balamb.

"We conferred while you were hanging up your "No GFs on the court" signs and came up with some interesting views about your girlfriend," Cerberus B said, taking Ifrit's place in the conversation after a noticeable pause. Why is he staring at that new bike of his?

"And we did it outside the courts so we wouldn't undermine what you were doing," Cerberus C added quickly. That bike must have cost him at least three quarters of the Gil he had saved since he was inducted into SeeD.

"Even though it was a bit prejudiced against GFs," Diablos contributed with a fake cough. You better watch your keys, buddy, or that cute bike is mine.

Cerberus B scowled at him before nodding at Ifrit to continue. Tear your scum-bag eyes away from the Master's bike, Diablos.

"Well, you know how you can't draw or use any magic unless you have those specific abilities switched on?" Ifrit asked. Tear your scum-bag eyes away from the Master's bike, Diablos.

Squall nodded tentatively. Tear your scum-bag eyes away from my bike, Diablos, or I will tear your eyes from you.

"Well, without junctioning any GFs, no one can cast any spells or use magic of any sort," Cerberus B finished for Ifrit.

"Are you trying to debar Rinoa from being a sorceress?" Squall ventured.

Cerberus B shrugged and answered, "You are no different from her in magic use is all we're saying."

"Without us, you couldn't do anything, basically," Diablos laid out bluntly.

Squall shot him the look that instantly quieted him. He rubbed the back of his head absent-mindedly and tried to come up with a hole in their theory. It didn’t take long to find one.

“But even when she doesn’t have any GFs junctioned to her, she doesn’t lose all the spells she drew. All the magic stays locked up inside her,” Squall brought to their attention.

Ifrit had seen that petty counter-argument coming and was ready to rebut it.

“The spells you draw stay locked up inside you too, Master,” the GF pointed out. “Hell, you can even switch magic spells that have been drawn or those that have been junctioned from person to person. So if Rinoa is a sorceress, and you two switch junctioned spells, does that make you a warlock?”

Squall raised one eyebrow slightly and said, “You know you are walking a really fine line on the definition of a sorceress, all based on technicalities in terminology.”

“Hey, if you want to split hairs on definitions, ask the former President Deling what he thinks constitutes ‘sex’,” Diablos joked.

No one thought it was a particularly funny crack, even less so because the former President Deling was no longer alive.

"What about her limit break?" Squall questioned, still skeptical.

"You mean that pathetic one where she loses all control of herself and casts spells like crazy?" Diablos popped in. "What's that move called? Angel Wing or something?"

Diablos scoffed and then added, "You should check out Lucifer's wingspan!"

Squall told Diablos that no one really cared for his company and gave him permission to leave. As the other GFs broke out into a standing ovation, Diablos quickly hid himself behind Doomtrain and out of Squall's view.

"What kind of name is 'limit break'?" Cerberus C asked.

"Sounds stupid," Cerberus A agreed.

"Hey," Cerberus B cut in, "it's better than 'Trance' or something dumb like that."

"What would you rather call it, then?" Squall asked Ifrit.

Ifrit thought about it for awhile before answering, "This is off the topic, but I'd call it 'Desperation Maneuver' or 'Geronimo'."

All the GFs except Doomtrain murmured with approval.

"Personally I think that sounds too much like Gerogero," Doomtrain huffed.

Cerberus B turned back to Ifrit to correct his last statement. "It's not that far off the topic. If you consider Rinoa's Angel Wing as mere sorcery, you have to wonder whether or not she could pull off that limit break without being junctioned to any of us."

Squall thought about it. He's right. I've never seen Rinoa do that without any GFs. Hey, wait a second!

“What about her casting spells during her limit break that she doesn’t even have? Magic doesn’t just come out of nowhere,” Squall said.

Ifrit looked at Cerberus B for help. The latter GF nodded, saying, “I’ll take this one.”

With Squall listening, he explained, “You know how Selphie has her Slot limit break?”

“Yeah, it’s completely random,” Squall acknowledged.

“Yes,” Cerberus B agreed, “but some of those spells Selphie doesn’t have stored either. In fact, half of those spells you can’t draw from enemies anywhere. Does that make Selphie a sorceress too?”

Squall considered it before grudgingly capitulating. Okay, you have a point.

"Does any of this help?" Doomtrain asked, relieved that Squall had forgotten about the Malboro tentacle, allowing it to burn itself out.

Squall hesitated. Does the possibility of her not being a sorceress cheer me up? Why should it? It was interesting to hear their theory, but that wasn't what was troubling me.

Ifrit knew Squall well enough to figure out that this was the "No, it doesn't help" type of silence. He shifted uncomfortably to another spot of fresh grass, the patch over which he had been standing having been long since reduced to mere cinders.

"What we're trying to say is that she's just a normal girl, Master. There is nothing threatening about her," Ifrit finally spoke. "Don't beat yourself up over it.

Rinoa? A normal girl? Squall frowned at the suggestion. So there is nothing special about her...so what?

Ifrit saw how Squall wasn't cracking, realizing that either that had made the wrong assumption about what was bothering him in the first place, or that this new piece of intelligence had just offered him something else to worry about.

Ifrit tried to salvage the situation with, "At least you won't have to concern yourself with people talking about any hypocrisy in the Garden code with the Commander of SeeD hanging around a sorceress for any reason other than sending her to Diablos."

I didn't know people were talking about it, Squall noted mentally. It took him a bit longer to fully digest the issue that Ifrit had just throw down. Holy Shiva, he's right! It's my duty to kill her.

"But as I said," Ifrit continued after catching Squall's sharp intake of air, "that is something that you don't have to worry about. We already have enough arguments to keep the Esthar investigators from legally taking Rinoa. And she will definitely have her father, the General's protection."

That slipped my mind too. Had it not been for years of training in Balamb Garden, Squall would not have been able to suppress his instinctive urge to slap himself in the head.

A second later he found himself frowning at another point that Ifrit had brought up. The General's daughter, that sounds ominous.

"I just realized that I hardly know anything about her," Squall announced, shaking his head.

"I wonder why that is," Cerberus A scoffed, daring to give Squall an accusing look.

"Don't pretend like you know why that is," Cerberus B chastised his first head.

Why is that? Squall was beginning to wonder.

"You've never given her a chance," Diablos muttered.

Apparently it was still audible, and Squall scowled, trying to discern the fiendish GF who had cowered behind his colleagues.

Cerberus B coughed purposely to break the silence and tried to cool Squall down with, "What he meant was you two were never given the chance. Every single time it mattered, one or both of you were comatose or running for your lives."

Squall nodded. So long as I'm not responsible.

Diablos snickered at a joke he had made up in his head. Adel got closer to Rinoa than our Master has.

Squall began to wonder why he should bother trying if every time he did, some disaster would interrupt them. He was also feeling irked for not having the opportunity to get to know Rinoa; it had nothing to do with whether he chose to go through with it or not, just so he had a choice, that freedom. He realized that maybe it was more her fault than his.

She didn't give me the chance, he thought, not the other way around. She was always knocked out, glued to someone else's body, floating in space, or hanging on for dear life. The moment we do get close at the party, she blew me off. It was her fault, not mine.

Having established that he was not at fault and there was nothing special about Rinoa except for the unfortunate fact that she was the General's daughter, Squall could find no reason why he should like her at all. Her saving him on the return trip from Time Compression in the flower field was the least the could do to compensate for the numerous times he had saved her. He was actually doing her the favor if he just called it even.

What the-

Had he been smoking that fast? His cigarette was finished, and he tossed it lazily off the cliff and watched as it haphazardly spiraled down, flitting whichever way it wanted without every really deciding, until it disappeared from view.

Just like that floating golden feather.

Ifrit watched nervously along with Cerberus B as Squall withdrew further into his ruminations, reaching in his pocket for another joint. They did not like the look on his face, guessing where his thoughts were leading him. This was not what they had in mind.

Setting 09: 1856 DAY 15, Balamb Garden Subsidiary Corridor 2F

“It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;

it may be we shall touch the Happy Isles.”

-Tennyson, Alfred Lord

Ulysses 62

"Shut up!" Rinoa shouted. "For the last time, I am not pregnant!"

She suppressed the urge to lash out at the group of busty girls in Garden Uniform. Even if she didn't have 100 Death spells junctioned to her blaster edge at the time, it would still feel damn good. But they were part of the majority of Balamb Garden's junior class, the girls in the Anti-Rinoa club, and she had left her Shooting Star in the back of Squall’s Garden-furnished vehicle. While Squall was around Rinoa, the most they ever dared was a dirty look aimed at her when his back was turned. However, ever since Squall left to supervise the Nova Trabia reconstruction project, the jealous female group had taken advantage of their dream-date's absence and declared it open season on Rinoa's ass.

If anything, for all I know, I'm almost unkissable, she said to herself miserably. Dammit, Squall, why do you have to be so difficult!

The girls were taunting her again, vilifying her integrity. Rinoa knew that each one of these underclasswomen would willing give themselves to Squall to be ravaged and somatically corrupted, and that accusing her of being a tramp made them feel better about themselves. They had fooled themselves into thinking that being Rinoa was a bad thing, hypocritically never intending to pass up her place should it ever be vacated.

Rinoa had endured this jeering for two whole weeks, and was on the brink of sending Angelo after her adversaries when she caught herself. This isn't lady-like. Squall would frown at me. Then again, when have I ever been lady-like?

It suddenly occurred to her that if Squall wasn't in Balamb Garden, then she didn't have to behave like a princess, not that she had been, but now she had no excuse to hold back. The club members must have realized this too and quickly disappeared around the corner, shuffling their feet in harmony.

Rinoa sighed, bending down to pat Angelo. And I thought Bahamut's Red Dragons were bad. I can't even make twenty steps without running into one of those club members!

As tiresome as the frequent, discouraging encounters were, she realized how lucky she was not having to deal with the opposite gender's pro-Rinoa fan club. Squall had made it infinitely clear by a speaker announcement, discretely while Headmaster Cid was seeing his wife out the Garden gates after the party, that if anyone so much as looked at Rinoa the wrong way, she would be the last thing they ever saw. Even now all the male SeeDs ducked and ran past her in the halls. Unfortunately, she could make no such ultimatum, and even if she could, it would not manifest the desired effect.

Another male SeeD student had stepped out of one of the classrooms a few steps in front of her. He looked up from his papers and smiled at the scent of her perfume. His pleased expression quickly melted into a gasp as he ducked back into the lecture chamber. Squall's words had been very effective.

She smiled and felt her face burning, just as it had when she heard the announcement from her room. Her smile turned into a frown when she recalled why she ran to her room in the first place.

The least he could do was make that announcement, after what he said that night, Rinoa reasoned caustically. Was he embarrassed to be seen with me, even by his closest friends?

Rinoa didn't like the thought that he wasn't particularly proud of being seen with her. Even if Squall was naturally diffident, it was no excuse to immediately drop her and put on the embarrassed, "Don't get the wrong idea, Zell, we are just friends" look on his face when Zell caught them in the middle of their first kiss. It made her feel insignificant, and on top of it all, he had called that magical moment "nothing important." It made her want to kill him. At this moment, Rinoa wasn't sure who she would tie up in the future, Zell or Squall.

He infuriates me sometimes! she shouted in her head. Everything was perfect. The weather was right, the full moon, the shooting star, and I even had on my lucky socks! How can anyone ruin that? I would have given you the world, Squall. Why did you have to ruin what should have been impossible to ruin? How can you ruin that?

Rinoa's face fell, instantly assuming the look of a cynic. The only way to ruin that is if you're Squall and you say, "It's nothing important."

Rinoa shook her head. After all, didn't he know that she loved him? She resumed the face of the unsurprised cynic. No, he was too groggy to notice the look on my face when I saved him from Time Compression and revived him in the flower field.

Her stomach growled right then, its loudness making her blush.

How embarrassing, she thought, taking a quick look around to make sure no one heard. I'm glad Squall wasn't here to witness that.

She looked down at her stomach crossly.

It murmured in reply, hinting to Rinoa that maybe the routine purges and forced dieting didn't agree with it. She stuck her tongue out and taunted her stomach, daring it to defect. At last it quieted, and she congratulated herself with her victory. At the same time, though, Rinoa became acutely aware that she was quite famished.

Putting her hunger aside, Rinoa tried to catch up with her train of thought that had left her at the station. It took a few seconds to reboot her memory and find the right place to cut in.

...Revived him in the flower field...That's what it was. I was crying my heart out with him in my arms and shaking him because he was alive, but all he did was grunt and tell me to stop because the rocking was hurting his head.

Rinoa sniffled. He didn't even say, "Thank you for finding me. I couldn't have made it out without you."

Squall seemed so ungrateful. She tried to hug him so many times after he saved her from space, and even forced herself onto his lap, just to please him. He gave the same nonchalant response then, and he hadn't changed a bit.

Have I been trying to change him? Rinoa asked herself. Yes, I guess. Maybe it's wrong of me to ask that of him, but he's too rough on the edges for anyone's good.

She leaned back against the wall and brushed her dark hair back. One of the anti-Rinoa girls had just headed out of her class and was walking absent-mindedly past Rinoa. Rinoa wasn't in the best of moods and took this chance to spin off the wall and purposely rough her rival up with her shoulder. As expected, Rinoa's shoulder connected with the girl's arm. Caught off guard, she was inevitably thrown off balance and landed on the ground.

Rinoa pulled out the same "Watch where you're going" look she had dished at the couple that she and Squall had collided with on the dance floor that night at his SeeD inauguration party. I wish my magical hypnosis spell would have worked that night. I should have danced with him longer, she blamed herself.

Before her scapegoat could recover and retaliate from her dazed position on the ground, Rinoa scooted into the nearby elevator and hit the button for the first floor. On the way down, she had to decide between her really nice VIP suite and the cafeteria. The only thing wrong with her room that she could think of was the monotone voice with which Squall had presented it to her, saying that it was "by protocol a standard issue room to all clientele." That mechanical comment alone, rife with redundancy, had blasted away all sentiments of either the room or her being special.

Rinoa marveled at how he could still refuse her while they were alone for that one minute before all the others found them in the flower field. She was at a loss to explain how he did not want to explore that moment so perfect for passion, perfect for them. Perfect in every way.

He said he was tired, Rinoa recalled spitefully as she stepped off the elevator and made her way back to the dorms.

So again Squall had botched another perfect setting and moment with his insensitivity. It was in the same flower field behind Edea's house where they had all agreed before going into Time Compression that they would meet afterwards. Of course, he had gotten there late, and wouldn't have gotten there at all had it not been for her. Was it really that hard to find that green pasture behind Edea's orphanage? Rinoa asked herself.

At the mention of Edea, she was reminded of how pleasant Cid's wife was at the party. It wasn't hard for Rinoa to forget all about Mrs. Kramer's former identity as the Sorceress. She just showed up in her plain, black gown and looked splendid without any superfluous ornaments that would have over-exaggerated her elegance. She naturally found it hard to believe that Edea was the same woman that everyone had struggled to kill for the past few years. Her disposition was so innocent now, so easily absolvable, unlike Seifer, whose bloodthirsty countenance was retained even after being freed of "mind control" incriminated him, in her eyes at least.

His parole officer had granted him a part-time job in the fishing industry after he stuck to his story about being manipulated by Ultimecia who had lured him into her control using his own dream as bait, but Rinoa didn’t buy any of that. Seifer's aspect betrayed the innate darkness within him, and the abusive language he had used to denigrate her relationship with Squall was unforgivable. The last she heard of him was that he had joined some church group and gone on an archaeological expedition, hoping to find and reform his true self. At least that was the excuse he used to fool his PO.

Rinoa was getting a headache just thinking about the man with whom she had had her summer fling. It just seemed easier to love Edea and place two shares of anger on someone that everyone despised, including herself. Not only had he delayed her from finding Squall, but he had fed her to Adel and inhumanely tortured the man she did love. Rinoa felt the steam coming out of her ears and realized that it was healthier to concentrate on something that would not inspire her to fume. Edea was the sweetest thing she could think of offhand.

How sad it was to see Mrs. Kramer leave Balamb Garden, she thought. Just as sad as it was touching to see the Headmaster leave the party early and accompany her to her ride outside. They still seemed so much in love.

Then again, they did just rediscover each other, in a way, Rinoa reasoned. I wonder how long they had been hoping Squall would come and beat Ultimecia out of her system.

Rinoa smiled dreamily. It was the perfect end to a fairy tale. I'm so glad Quistis came by my room after I left the ball and told me to look out my window. We were both kinda teary-eyed when we saw the Headmaster embrace his wife. Both our faces also flushed when Squall's announcement sounded over the intercom.

She sighed sadly. Edea's story might have ended happily ever after, but my princess story is still a tragedy.

On second thought, she corrected herself after re-evaluating the Edea's situation, I hope I don't end up like that. If every sorceress bride of the highest authority in Garden ends up by herself, watching an empty orphanage and wishing that she had children of her own, I might have to reconsider how far I should push Squall to commit.

Her stomach interrupted her brooding with a lion-like roar this time. It was so loud that it made her jump. She giggled nervously, sighing in relief that no one had walked by and heard. She was sure it would make a delicious addition to the gossip goblet that was passed around and sipped by every loud-mouth anti-Rinoa club member.

She laughed lightly at how a simple thought, such as a flower field, could instigate so much brain-racking. She frowned at another realization at the mention of the agreed upon destination of the field.

Why didn't Squall make it to the flower field? Rinoa wondered. She had asked everyone else what they went through, and just as she had, it was just a matter of walking through some white screen and suddenly appearing in the field. What was so hard about that?

Her expression darkened.

Did he subconsciously not want to make it back?

Rinoa's eyes narrowed.

Was he deliberately trying to avoid me?

She was just outside her suite with a worried look.

Was it something that I did wrong? But I've been eating a meal and a half since Deling City just so he'd find me less chunky and more attractive! Dr. Kadowaki said three weekends ago that I was too underweight to be healthy, but I know he'll like me even less if I start gaining weight. But he couldn't even find his way to a pasture for me, and even decided to blow me off instead of Zell on the balcony! Was it something I did? I must have displeased him somewhere. Why is he distancing himself from me?

Her stomach growled again, and she laughed, dismissing the thought that anyone, even Squall, would want to blow her off or avoid her. All the evidence before her in Garden was that even man would die for her, not die just to avoid her. Coming to this conclusion, and feeling more growls heading up her esophagus, she decided it would be okay to indulge in some of her favorite chocobolates in the cafeteria.

Chocobolates were chocobo-shaped candies made from the milk of a rare mammalian strain of chocobos and chocolate. She hadn't had any for the same reason why she had cut down on her food intake, but she figured there was no reason to fast while Squall was so far away. Besides, the trip she was about to make this afternoon to Trabia would definitely offer enough exercise to put her back into shape. She would just have to remember not to eat too many in the next few minutes, otherwise he would notice how fat she was getting and not want to hug her.

As she made her way to the cafeteria, she felt a bit foolish for doubting herself and questioning Squall's feelings for her.

You're so dumb, Rinoa, she scolded herself. Why am I so dumb, getting caught up about all this? Dumb, dumb, dumb.

A flashback hit her so hard that she nearly lost her footing. It was what her mother had told her when she was a child. Rinoa remembered it clearly, one of the few lessons that she committed to memory because she had always been curious about it. Julia had told her, "There is no such thing as dumb girls. There are only lucky and unlucky girls. The unlucky ones are just dumb more often."

If her mother was right, then Rinoa had been stupid twice already, once on Seifer, the second time on Squall. There was no way she was going to allow herself to be duped a third time, so she had to make the most out of Squall. Her face hardened as she strode past another group of anti-Rinoa members. They were too absorbed in their conversation about Squall to notice her, and she reddened at the realization of how accurately it reflected Squall's own self-infatuation that seemed to take all his attention away from her.

There were no chocobolates in the cafeteria. The matronly serveuse was so used to Rinoa seeing Rinoa come in and go out empty handed that she would not allow the skinny girl to walk away today in the same manner. Rinoa was at last persuaded to sit down and have a sandwich for dinner. The hotdogs, of course, were scarce in supply, but there was an abundance of fresh burgers. She sat down at an empty table by the corner and tried to draw as little attention as possible.

Even if the burger had been prepared by the finest chef in Balamb, it would have still tasted stale to lonely Rinoa as she munched monotonously away. She glanced around the room quickly and envied all the other couples that were dining together, and blamed herself for being so hotheaded on the balcony. After all, it wasn't Squall who imposed the two week hiatus in their relationship, if there was one. During his announcement over the intercom, he hadn't specified that she couldn't tag along. She just assumed it was better to let things cool down by waiting two weeks before visiting the construction site. Rinoa took another tasteless bite, still not sure what kind of meat her sandwich contained. It wasn't crunchy enough to be arachnid, not nearly tough enough to be reptilian, nor soft enough to be fish-related. She shrugged and decided that it was better not to know, her appetite being so weak already.

Rinoa missed her mother. If Squall had been there, she would have begun to bawl and tell him what she remembered about her. As chance would have it, he wasn't sitting right beside her and crying on her own shoulder didn't seem very comely, so she stuffed her emotions back into their hiding place before they had a chance to break out of her restraint. She didn't realize that she had used Squall as a surrogate mother on their trip back from space, even after she directly compared Squall to Julia. They were the ones that she associated with comfort and safety, and having rejected her father figure ever since her mother died, Rinoa could not but feel doubly affectionate towards Squall.

Thinking of her mother and Squall inevitably invited the image of Laguna Loire into her mess of thoughts. How unexpected it was for Laguna to ask Cid to announce his paternal relation to Squall the moment they returned to Balamb Garden after coming out of Time Compression. Upon hearing the news, Squall remained speechless and merely shrugged. However, Rinoa noticed that he locked himself in his room for two hours right before the party. Usually he brooded while lying on his bed, but it was odd that he should lock his door. She only found out because she tried the knob before realizing that he probably needed some time to himself.

So Julia was Laguna's first lover, Rinoa assessed. If he ended up marrying Raine instead of my mother, wouldn't it be a hoot and a half if his son ended up dumping me too for some other Winhill girl?

For a moment Rinoa was glad that the closest thing Raine had to a daughter was Ellone, and there was no way that Squall would run off with her because she was his big "Sis." Besides, if Laguna's son did drop Julia's daughter and run off with Raine's daughter, it would be incest cause Squall would be dating his foster half-sister to say the least.

Rinoa made a face and tossed the latter half of her soggy sandwich aside. It was too complicated, pointless, and downright disgusting to think about, and plus the more she thought, the less aware she was of how much she was eating. She was actually thankful that this messy, generational love triangle had ruined her meal because had she eaten anymore, she would have definitely put on an extra quarter of a pound, and that would have surely been unacceptable to Squall.

Good job on catching yourself, Rinoa, she encouraged herself. You could have been making the biggest mistake of your life.

Getting up and brushing any stray crumbs that might have mutinously found their way onto her clothes, she headed