DISCLAIMER: I don't own either Final Fantasy VIII or The Phantom Tollbooth. Anyone who thinks I do has problems.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I haven't written in months. I don't normally write for the FFVIII fandom. In fact, this is the first thing I've ever written for it, and quite probably one of the only things I'll ever do - if not the only. But this idea was born from an RP (yes, RP, a serious one, I promise!) where a friend and I continuously had a clashing Seifer and Quistis on our hands. They just wouldn't stop fighting. Not until I dug something out of my bookcase, and realized how... appropriate it was, in some ways, for their childhood.
I rightly started this thing a couple months ago, only intending it to be a drabble, but I got smacked with writer's block. And then when that finally went away, this exploded. I don't know how many words are in this thing, but it definitely ain't a drabble anymore. I hope I did some justice to the idea, finding even a tenuous connection through a shared experience. All I know is, I tried my best, and I hope you enjoy what came out.
Excerpts from The Phantom Tollbooth by Norman Juster ©1961.
- - - - -
It was perhaps the hardest thing she'd done in her life, at least her recent life. More than facing down Ultimecia, more than the death sentence that had been placed on her head, it was absolutely terrifying.
But she had to do it. She had to knock on that door.
Quistis's arm refused to respond to her mental commands, though, hanging limp and heavy by her side. The six inches between her and the door seemed an entire gulf, an ocean a thousand miles wide she had no hope of crossing. After all, what was she supposed to say? I was in the neighborhood and wondered how you were, oh and would you mind becoming a target for assassination again to spare your archrival? Hello, lovely day, I need you to go get killed? There is absolutely no way this is going to work.
The more she turned it over in her head, the more she wondered why she was even here in the first place.
They needed Seifer. Despite being sided with Ultimecia, most of the world's people still had no idea who he was, and his weaponry skills were almost unmatched. Certainly his fighting style was more clean and fluid than Squall's. And especially after taking so long to convince Squall that he needed a - the boom of the slamming door that had greeted the first reiteration of this proposal rang in her mind - bodyguard, backing down on the best candidate for the job was not even an option.
But still... she sighed, resting her forehead in her hand, why couldn't it have been someone else? She knew the answer to that, too; Squall needed someone to keep him on his toes. Rinoa was excellent for that, but none of the rest of them, or anyone in Garden, could provoke him like Seifer could. As long as he could keep himself controlled...
Who knew if that was even possible, now.
And the decision was taken quickly out of her hands by the door in front of her being pulled sharply open, rebounding against the wall - the young man on the other side clearly just as surprised to see her standing there as she was to see the door move.
Seifer wasn't one to let any uncontrolable emotion remain on his features for long; the mild shock that had been his first reaction was quickly erased and replaced by a faint version of his normal scowl, an almost wary look that made her wonder if he expected her to wrap her whip around his neck and pull as hard as she could. "Long way for a visit, Instructor."
There wasn't any welcome in his tone, nothing to indicate that her sudden appearance was anything other than an annoyance, and for a moment Quistis nearly just turned around and walked away rather than let him annoy her and get under her skin - again. She'd had enough of that with him as her student to want to put up with it now, and only the memories of her friends' voices in her head stopped her from simply leaving. She'd come all this way for a reason; the reason couldn't be abandoned just because he was the world's biggest ass.
After a moment spent in getting herself in control, she opened her eyes to see a faint smirk around the edges of Seifer's mouth that nearly sent her temper flaring, something that only happened with any frequency when she was around him. He knew, as well, that she was close to the edge of snapping, and took just as much pleasure as he ever had in pushing her there - and the smirk only cooled when she responded in a regulated, business-like voice. "This isn't a visit. This is a proposal."
"Awww, Instructor, I didn't know you cared so much. Bet you got a cheap-ass ring, though."
"Don't-" She drew a deep breath as her hand clenched into a fist, looking down and counting to ten so she wouldn't throttle him. That smirk was back, she knew it, and if she looked at him she'd lose it. "I'm bringing you an employment opportunity," she continued, voice slightly tighter than before but holding herself in an iron grip. She'd had good practice at it. "A contract, non-negotiable, from Cid and Squall."
Apparently that was enough to catch his interest a little; he was still wary, but the smirk faded as a look of consideration came over his features and he crossed his arms to lean against the doorframe. "Why didn't they come, then?"
"They're busy. Do you want to be seen with me in public or would you like to have this discussion in private?" she snapped a little when he didn't move.
With a grunt, Seifer finally moved back from the door, standing to the side and gesturing her wordlessly into his apartment - keep her in front of him where he could keep an eye on her in case she attacked. Quistis recognized the tactics, had drilled him in them herself, but was too annoyed with other things to be annoyed about that treatment. If he wanted to be wary of her, let him be - it only proved that even on his home ground, she had the upper hand.
Not that it was much of a home ground. Esthar had been his chosen place to settle, as much as he ever did, after Ultimecia was gone - despite the reactivation of Lunatic Pandora and the initiation of the Lunar Cry, Laguna's country was the one where he was least likely to be recognized. The small apartment he'd secured, doing she didn't want to know what, was more a camping ground than anything else, as the furniture was spartan at best and personal touches were nonexistant. The only one that she was sure hadn't come with the apartment was the gunblade rack above the beat-up sofa, where Hyperion currently rested in almost solemn royal state. As for the rest of it, table and chairs and couch, well, none of it looked like anything Seifer would have chosen, but she couldn't be sure of that.
"Wasn't aware you guys were in the business of handing out contracts." The door shut with a click behind her, much less emphatically than it had been opened, and Quistis turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest and keeping her face neutral. "Never seemed like SeeD's style to toss something out."
She smothered another groan and pressed forward, determined to ignore his attempts to be irritating. "The Gardens have been receiving some disturbing messages lately. What with all of us busy, none of us can do something about them, whereas you might be able to. Shall I go on?"
Seifer smirked a little once more, waving a hand at her. "I'm all ears."
"There have been statements about the personal safety of certain SeeDs. In specific, Squall has been mentioned more times than any other. We're offering you a contract to return to Garden, as his bodyguard."
"...You've gotta be fuckin' joking."
"Not at all." Seifer knew her well enough to know that when that certain look was in her eyes, joking was the absolute last thing on her mind. And now it was there in full, determined and serious and perfectly focused, and Quistis received a small satisfaction from the fact that he subtly looked away from her gaze. "Squall's the best we have, but he's only one person and he can't watch in all directions at once. And he has other things he needs to focus on besides this. It would mean 'officially unofficial' SeeD status, as well as possible covert missions in the future." Her eyes once more swept around the small, anonymous room as she spoke, not sure how he'd take that but wanting everything on the table at the start.
"'Officially unofficial'?" he repeated, for once completely baffled. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
Something had distracted Quistis, however; the one flash of bright color that was in the room, that she'd somehow overlooked when she'd stepped inside. It was a book, an old, damaged paperback with a faded cover that had clearly once been a brighter blue but had faded to a more powdery color through time and wear. With a small start, she realized she knew exactly what would be on the front - a sketchy drawing of a boy, and a giant dog with a clock set in his body.
"What the hell does that mean, Trepe?"
"Where did you get this?" she asked suddenly, not paying any attention to Seifer growing more aggitated across the room.
"The fuck's it matter, I wan-"
"It matters, all right, it matters!" Quistis hadn't expected the emphatic urgency in her own voice, and her eyes widened slightly as she heard herself. Seifer clearly hadn't thought that was coming any more than she had; she'd never seen him so surprised. But she'd nearly bitten his head off; perhaps it wasn't too unexpected.
After a moment of uncomfortable shifting, the scowl returned and Seifer offered a muttered answer. "Went down to the old place a few weeks ago. It was buried in the old bedroom under some shelves."
That was right. Matron... she remembered, tracing her fingers over the cover. Matron had read them the book when they were young - too young to really understand it. But they'd all enjoyed it, probably all remembered pieces of it, and hadn't expected to see it ever again. The orphanage had started to fall into ruin after everyone was gone, even Matron - furniture was in pieces, grass was growing through the floors, entire walls had fallen down. The fact that a fragile book like this had survived years of neglect and exposure to the elements...
...Well, it was almost a miracle. "C'mon, go
ahead Matron, go ahead! I wanna hear the Humbug to eat his
words!" The smiling woman smoothed her long black hair
out of her face, reaching out a hand to brush down the side of the
boy's cheek. "We'll get there, Zell, I promise. But if we skip
anything, it won't make sense." The young boy pouted,
ineffectually as three or four pillows came flying at him from all
sides, and he squawked as he was knocked over and buried in them.
"MEANIES! STOP PICKIN' ON ME!" "Shut up, you
"Children!" Edea
broke in, with a sharp voice that never failed to get their
attention. Even Zell didn't protest as he pushed the pillows off
himself, Seifer, Selphie, and Irvine making their way over to
retrieve them, as Edea settled back into her chair and continued. No
one wanted to ruin the story, and she knew it. "'Attached to one
side was a bright blue envelope that said simply: FOR MILO, WHO HAS
PLENTY OF TIME.'"
"'Who
could possibly have left such an enormous package and such a strange
one? For, while it was not quite square, it was definitely not round,
and for its size it was larger than almost any other big package of
smaller dimension that he'd ever seen.'"
It was another link to the past
that had made them into who they all were - mostly a family, with one
rogue element circling on his own, still having not made up his mind
whether he belonged with them or not. Something of their non-existant
childhood that had faded too quickly, something that none of them had
ever imagined they'd recover.
"...Can I take this back with me?"
"No."
Quistis looked up in surprise at the absolute flatness and finality in Seifer's tone - and saw in his eyes a mirror of her own thoughts, the same need he had for this reminder of what had been. She had her friends, her family - what did he have? What could he hope to have, even if he accepted the contract and came back? Maybe he needed it more than they did... but she couldn't be sure of that.
"Where... were you going when you opened the door?"
"To the store, and will you stop changing the Hynedamned subject? What about this contract?"
The question again went unanswered as she looked at the book in her hands once more - then turned a little to face him, holding it out to him. "...Read it? Please?"
"What?"
"If you want to keep it..." She looked down at it once more, almost as if she were fixing the cover in her mind, "then I want to hear it one last time."
Seifer thought she was insane; it was plastered over every inch of his features, was practically blared through his eyes, as he stared at her while he leaned against the wall. For a long minute, he didn't move or speak, apparently deciding what to do with the crazy woman before him. Finally, he moved one hand out to take the book. For a moment it looked as if he'd just push it into one of the pockets of his coat and throw her out, but after a long hesitation, he let it fall open in his hands, flipping the pages slowly until he found the beginning. "One. Milo."
His voice was rough, obviously a little embarrassed at reading a children's book to a former enemy; Quistis didn't care. She leaned against the wall and slowly slid down into a sitting position, legs tucked beneath her, the way she'd always sat on her bed at the orphanage during reading time. One hand reached up and over the arm of the couch, dragging one of the throw pillows down for her to hold to her stomach, almost like a stuffed animal that had been lost long ago. Next to the door, Seifer unconsciously copied her actions, settling down against the wall as the familiar old words caught him up as they did her - as they had all of them, in the old days.
"'There was once a boy named Milo, who didn't know what do do with himself--not just sometimes, but always.'"