Classic: Seed for life

by The Librarian

Author: Tyranny of Evil Men. Email: omegatyranny@yahoo.com. Not mine I jus posted it

SeeD for Life

Part 1: The Lion and the Queen

Eight years have past. Squall has been promoted to the rank of General, third class. He is sleepless again, trying to finish a report on SeeD's involvement in trying to reestablish order in the nation of Esthar after the assassination of President Loire.

Squall's eyelids drooped, closed, then immediately snapped open again. Cursing himself for his tiredness, he turned his head back to the glow of the computer screen. The harsh black and white SeeD logo stared back at him, taunting his tiredness.

Squall coughed, pulled his chair closer to the desk, and began typing again.

"…directly results in SeeD's inability to restore order in the Esthar province. While SeeD troops have managed to suppress the rebellion in the outskirts of Esthar, the city of Esthar itself is still in chaos. Patrols of SeeD troops, working in conjunction with Esthar soldiers still loyal to the republic, have managed to evacuate most of the civilian population. Though SeeD is significantly better trained than the rebellion forces, they outnumber us by almost three to one. With a stalemate in fighting practically imminent, it is my recommendation that the council vote…"

Squall broke off typing. What the hell was he thinking? Retreat?
"Oh no…" He muttered sarcastically. "Can't have the great sorceress killer retreat…" Squall deleted the last few lines of the report, then began typing again.

"While SeeD troops have managed to suppress the rebellion in the outskirts of Esthar, the city of Esthar itself is still in chaos. Patrols of SeeD troops, working in conjunction with Esthar soldiers still loyal to the republic, have managed to evacuate most of the civilian population. However, rebellious forces outnumber SeeD by almost three to one. By concentrating our forces along the Esthar airstation skyway, SeeD may be able to suppress incoming support…"

Squall angrily deleted the lines again. This was stupid. There would be no way the SeeD council would approve any course of action short of immediate and severe destruction of the rebel forces. Squall frowned, then began typing again.

"While SeeD troops have managed to suppress the rebellion in the outskirts of Esthar, the city of Esthar itself is still in chaos. Patrols of SeeD troops, working in conjunction with Esthar soldiers still loyal to the republic, have managed to evacuate most of the civilian population. So now that the civilians are safe, have every SeeD and soldier take to their weapons and fight until the rebel forces are destroyed!"

Squall frowned at the sarcastic words. "Fuck this, I'll finish it in the morning." Squall closed the text window on the computer.
"SAVE CHANGES TO SEED0178? Y/N" The computer prompt flashed.

Squall tapped the keyboard angrily. "No, no, a thousand frigging times no!" Squall shouted. The computer responded and shut off.

Squall skulked away from the computer and into the small kitchen area. He opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. He shut the door and drank deeply from the bottle. Draining the bottle, he threw it in the trash and went to his bedroom.

Falling onto his mattress, Squall frowned as he tried to clear his mind and sleep. He couldn't clear the angry thoughts from his minds. "Damn stupid war." He opened his eyes and walked to the dark window. "Damn stupid report. What the hell do they expect from me? Squall pulled the blinds down, so the morning sun wouldn't strike his face. He went back to the bed, and managed to close his eyes. "Damn stupid SeeD. I should just quit, this is getting too hard."

General Quistis Trepe sat in her car outside Squall's apartment building. Quistis took another sip of her coffee. She noticed a speck of lint on her impeccable SeeD uniform and carelessly flicked it off. She checked her watch again. Ten past nine. She and Squall were going to miss their ride to Dollet if he didn't hurry up.

She didn't even look at Squall when the passenger door to the car opened and slammed shut. She simply turned on the car and stomped on the gas.

Squall threw his overnight bag in the back of the car, next to Quistis' bag.
Her eyes still on the road; Quistis handed Squall a steaming cup of coffee. He took it from her with mumbled thanks, and drank the hot liquid.

After driving halfway into the heart of Deling City, Quistis turned to look at Squall. Scrub would not be a strong enough word to describe Squall's appearance. His usually perfect uniform was rumpled, and left unbuttoned in many places. His hair, normally controlled and neat, was all over the place. It reminded her of their Balamb years together. There were large circles under his eyes, suggesting Squall hadn't slept very well in the past few days.

"Rough night?" She finally asked.

"You could say that." Squall mumbled, speaking to his coffee.

Quistis didn't say anything more. She had known Squall long enough to know when he didn't feel like talking about his feelings.

Squall put his coffee in one of the car's beverage cup holders and leaned back in the seat. "Did you get the tactical data?"
"Mm hmm, It's all ready for the council." Quistis said with a nod.
Squall sighed, then seemed to notice the entire top half of his uniform had been left unbuttoned. As he went to fix his uniform, he looked in the car's mirror and saw his appearance.

"Damn." He said with a sigh.

"You don't look so good. Is anything bothering you?" Quistis said, looking over at Squall.

She didn't expect an answer, so was rather surprised when he said, "Haven't been sleeping too well."

"Are you nervous about the council hearing?" She asked, pulling into the train station parking lot.

"No. Are you?" He asked, getting out of the car and retrieving his bag from the backseat.

"I guess not." She said with a sigh.

The two SeeD Generals walked out of the parking lot and into the main station. This time in the morning, there were hundreds of people in the station, milling about like so many ants in a colony. Quistis noticed there were more soldiers around than usual this morning. "Probably worried about people going into Dollet." Quistis thought. It was true too. The entire world had been on edge since the most powerful nation in the world had been overthrown.

The Worldwide Garden Council Alliance, commonly called the Council, had organized the meeting in Dollet to discuss the world's; more specifically SeeD's action to the rebels who assassinated President Laguna Loire. Security in Dollet had been extraordinarily tight. No citizens had been allowed to leave, and only SeeD officials, such as Quistis and Squall, would be allowed to enter the city. All radio communications had been cut off, reminding older citizens of the radio signal interference that ended eight years ago.

The two SeeDs came to a train that looked just about ready to leave. It was surrounded with blue Galbadian soldiers, and instead of an attendant, a red soldier was taking tickets and guarding the entrance.

Squall and Quistis came in front of the guard and saluted Galbadian style. He saluted back, and asked for their SeeD identification.
He scrutinized their plastic cards, then handed the ID's back. He saluted one more time and said, "Enjoy your journey sirs."

The SeeD cabin, located on all trains in the world, seemed more luxurious now then ever to Quistis. She dropped her bag in the middle of the floor and went to the bottom bunk to lie down. She felt more tired than she would like to admit. Squall came in a few seconds later. He carried two bottles of water and a bag with some bagels. He pulled one out, offered it to Quistis. She shook her head and closed her eyes. Squall took a seat on the sofa just as the train began to move. He put the bagel back in the bag. He didn't feel much like eating either.

"Huh, what?" Squall asked, suddenly awake. He jerked his head up. Quistis lay on the bunk, dozing quietly. Squall shook his head. Nothing was amiss. The only sound was that of the train moving steadily across the terrain. He allowed his head to rest on the soft cushion. He closed his eyes. Immediately, he started to think.

"No, stop thinking. Just sleep. Stop thinking." Squall opened his eyes and looked at Quistis again. Somehow, watching her sleep made him feel better. He closed his eyes again and leaned back.

"I'll just rest for a while, get prepared for the council."

He surprised himself by falling into a deep sleep almost immediately.

Quistis slowly opened her eyes. The soft movement of the train was almost enough for her to close her eyes and go back to sleep again. A quick glance at her watch forced her to get up from the soft bed.

She looked over to Squall. The afternoon light coming from the windows cast shadows in the cabin. Quistis rubbed her eyes, stretched, and went over to wake up Squall. She regarded his sleeping form. He looked so peaceful; she hadn't seen him look so peaceful since their childhood.

She leaned over, and spoke softly into his ear.
"Wake up, my lion." She said, remembering the pet name she used to have for Squall.

Squall blinked, moved forward, and looked at Quistis. "You haven't called me that in a long time… my queen." He said, smiling slightly.

Quistis laughed a little, holding a hand over her mouth. "So, you do remember."

"I don't think I ever forgot out nicknames." Squall said, standing up. Quistis smiled her calm, serene smile. Suddenly, Squall felt very close to Quistis. He shook his head to remove the feeling from his mind.

"What time is it?" Asked Squall, the slight smile fading from his face.

"We're almost there. Are you ready? She asked, checking her bag to make sure her whip was inside.

Squall looked troubled. "I guess so." He said, grabbing his bag.

Quistis walked out of the cabin. The train was already beginning to slow down, nearing Dollet station. Squall followed close behind, pausing to close and lock the SeeD cabin. He was no longer thinking of Quistis. Instead, he was thinking of how he was going to present to the council the idea of temporary retreat. He had poured through the data many times, and was sure that he would be backed up by Quistis; though he couldn't imagine what some of the other members of the councils would take such an idea. Squall and Quistis were the youngest Generals in the council. Almost every other member was part of the first and second generation SeeDs. How would they take the idea that some "kid" thought retreat to be the best course of action?

"Wake up Squall." Quistis said.

Squall was broken from his thoughts by the sudden stop of the train. He shook his head and shouldered his bag. "No sense in worrying. We're only two of five from Balamb. And then there's Trabia and Galbadia. Maybe they saw something I didn't. Maybe they have a better course of action."

"Welcome to Dollet General Trepe." Said the hotel secretary to Quistis. "On behalf of everyone in the inn, I would just like you to know, if there is anything we can do to make the duration of the conference more enjoyable, please let us know."
Quistis gave a fake smile while she listened to the hotel manager's bullshit. She, along with every other member of SeeD, knew very well that the citizens of Dollet didn'like military forces occupying their city. Quistis could hardly blame them though, considering Dollet's past with outside military forces.

The manager spouted some more inane small talk before he finally opened his ledger and searched for the reservation Quistis had made for Squall and herself.

"Ah! Here we are. General Quistis Trepe, room thirteen. Staying for the duration of…three days, two nights?"

"That is correct." Quistis said coolly.

"Oh come, General! Certainly you would wish to stay with us for a few-"
"-That won't be necessary sir. My colleagues and I are only here for the duration of the Council meeting." She said quickly. "However I do believe I asked for a separate room, under the name of General Leonhart."
The manager looked back to his ledger. "I'm sorry sir, but that name does not appear to be in the ledger."
Quistis was irritated, but it didn't show. Her only reaction was a slightly cooler look. "There are no more rooms available." Spoken unlike a question.

"I am sorry sir, but you and General Leonhart are the last to arrive. Every other room is booked up by your, ah, colleagues."
Quistis gave a small sigh. "Do not trouble yourself. As long as there are two beds in the room, it should be fine."
"Oh, of course sir! All our rooms have at least two beds." With that, the manager held out a key in his hand. Quistis grabbed it and headed outside.

It was getting onto sunset in Dollet. Squall was sitting on the rim of the fountain in the central square, his bag and revolver gunblade at his feet. He rarely bothered to carry around the Lionheart, except on SeeD missions.

"They screwed up our reservations. Looks like we'll be sharing a room." Quistis said when she reached Squall.

Squall lifted his head and looked Quistis in the eyes. He frowned, then said "Alright." He got up and picked up his belongings. Quistis walked next to him back to the hotel.

"When did you get rid of your glasses?" He asked, not looking at Quistis.

Quistis glanced at him, surprise showing in her cool blue eyes. "It got to be too much trouble to wear them on SeeD missions. I went to a clinic last week and got the surgery."
Squall nodded.

"Didn't I tell you about it?"

He sighed. "Maybe. I can't remember. I've been really wrapped up inside myself these last few weeks."

Quistis looked at him, the coolness fading from her eyes, replaced by sympathy. "Then tell me."

Squall sighed and closed his eyes. "Not now Quisty. Later." He opened his eyes and turned to look at Quistis. "Not now, my Queen. We'll talk later."

Quistis nodded, and the cool look returned to her eyes. "What did you expect?" She scolded herself. "You can't force anyone, especially him."

Squall scanned the room with his eyes. Quistis brushed past him, a black box in her hand. She moved it around the room. Little beeps emitted from the box. After a minute, Quistis turned off the device and slipped it back into her bag. "It's clean." She said simply.

Squall nodded and moved to the window. He still couldn't believe he had forgotten about her surgery. Of course, now he remembered. Last Monday, he received a call from Quistis. She had said she was getting eye surgery, and that he should continue the surveillance work on their target without her. He had to finish the job himself that day; the target discovered Squall, and he had no choice but to follow through on the last part of the mission without the information he was supposed to gather.

Squall looked to the mountains looming over Dollet. Not that it mattered now anyway. With practically all SeeDs in the world in Esthar right now, no one could have cared less if Squall had failed that mission.

He turned around to face Quistis, who was taking her change of clothes out of her bag. The whip she

carried was on the bed.

"I feel like having dinner." He said nonchalantly. "Feel like having dinner with me?"

Quistis did not look up. "Alright. Why don't we get changed first? I don't think getting a table would be possible wearing our uniforms."

Squall took his bag into the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he quickly stripped off his uniform and pulled on his black pants and jacket. He picked up the SeeD pants and pulled out his wallet. He moved to put it in his back pocket, but then he stopped. He opened the wallet.

A scarred, hostile looking teen face looked back at him. He flipped through the wallet. Twenty five hundred gil, key to his apartment, a half dozen photographs. He pulled the photos out. There was one of him and Seifer, taken nearly ten years ago. One of him, Zell, and Selphie, taken outside Trabia Garden. One of Irvine and Selphie, one of Edea and Cid, Quistis and Rinoa, and one of himself with Quistis, arm over arm, dancing at the celebration in Balamb garden after the defeat of the sorceress.

Squall smiled, then frowned. There was supposed to be another picture. He turned the wallet upside down, dropping his key, ID, and gil.

He shook it again. This time, something dropped out, hitting the floor with a metallic clang. He bent over and picked up the torn photo. His ring was taped on the back, along with the amulet he had broken during a mission.

He stared at the photo. It was one of Rinoa, smiling in a field of flowers, holding a hand gloved in black leather. The owner of the hand had been ripped out of the photo. Squall did not need the other half to know who the owner of the hand was.

Squall swore and tightly closed his eyes. The words he had spoken last night came unbidden into his mind. "This is getting too hard."

He opened his eyes again. A hard, icy glaze came over his face as he ripped off the ring, jamming it back onto his finger. He tossed the photo and amulet into the trash. He picked the contents of his wallet off the floor, stuffing them into his wallet before he opened the door into the room.

Quistis had her naked back to the door. Squall stared for a moment, then turned away. Quistis turned around also, pulling her pink vest over her head. She looked at Squall. He looked back, not saying a word. Sharing that one uncomfortable moment, both basked in the other's eyes, before Squall finally broke the spell.

"Are you ready to go?"

The two SeeDs walked down the main street of Dollet, looking for a restaurant that wasn't packed with people. They did not speak; instead, they shared silence. This silence was welcome to both of them.

Finally, they stopped in front of a café that had a pleasant view of the beach and ocean. An outside dining area was jammed with people, chattering and staring at the red sky reflected on the calm water.

"How much of a wait?" Quistis asked.

"Oh, no more than twenty minutes. If you would like to wait, may I suggest you sit on the beach? It is very lovely at this time of day. Especially with such a handsome young man…" The hostess pointed to Squall, who was standing some distance away.

"Indeed." Quistis said softly.

"Do you remember this place?" Quistis asked Squall as she lowered herself onto the sand.
Squall nodded, taking a seat next to Quistis. "Lapin beach. The SeeD test." He looked over to his friend. "You saved my life that day."

Quistis looked down. "I couldn't let some uncoordinated robot take the life of my best student."

Squall looked back to the ocean. "I never did … thank you. I didn't even speak to you until that night. Then I just acted like a jerk."

"Yes, you did." Quistis said, smiling to the ocean.

Neither said anything for a while. Soon, Quistis asked "How long have we been working together?" She finally asked.

Squall looked to the quickly departing sun. "We were both stationed in Deling City five years ago."
"Five years … And in all this time…"
"What?"

"I said your table is ready sir." Said a black haired waitress.
"Oh, alright then." Quistis said, standing up quickly and dusting the sand off of her skirt.

Squall looked at her departing figure then he too got up and followed the waitress to their table.

Quistis sipped the glass of wine, her eyes on Squall. The wine tasted bitter on her tongue.

"Are you ready to order?" Said the same waitress that had gotten them from the beach.

"Yes." Said Quistis, handing the waitress the menu. "I'll have the seared trout, with a side of risotto."
"Excellent choice ma'am; And for you sir?"

"Grilled Balamb, also with risotto."
"Okay, be right out."

Squall twisted the stem of the wineglass in his fingers. The sun had gone down, replaced by the impossibly bright moon. There was a candle on the table, its flame in a futile struggle against the wind coming off of the ocean. Quistis looked up at the moon, her eyes twinkling in the light. She then looked at Squall. He was a million miles away.

Quistis finally spoke. "You said that we would talk later…" Why do I always start the conversation? Was it that way with Rinoa? "Well, it's later."

Squall stopped twisting the glass. "I guess I owe you an explanation. You are my partner after all." He sighed. "I don't think… I want to be a SeeD anymore."
Quistis was silent for a moment, before the weight of what he had just said sank in. "You can't be serious…" She said slowly.

"No, I'm serious Quisty." He looked into her eyes. The pain she saw in Squall's eyes made her want to look away, but her compassion for her oldest friend kept her staring back at him.

"What are we doing with our lives now?" Squall continued. "We go from mission to mission; blindly following orders. We kill people for no other reason than our superiors told us to kill. Last week, I shot a man and I didn't know why." He paused abruptly. Quistis was shocked by how open he was being. She had never seen him like this.

"And now this with Esthar. I can't see any way to win. I know you'll back me, you said so yourself, but it doesn't matter. The council will not listen to the idea of retreat. They will just keep sending SeeDs like you and me to fight and die in a futile war. A war that should have meaning to me, but it just doesn't."
Quistis took a sip of wine, her hand shaking. He was scaring her now.

"I guess that's what scares me the most. My father is dead, and I don't feel anything…" He finally broke his eyes away from Quistis. She saw then that he had no defense left. "He is… vulnerable."

"I…I…its just getting too hard." Squall choked out. He shut his eyes tightly, closed his mouth. Quistis couldn't think, she couldn't breathe.

Quistis looked at the dark and empty hotel room. She still couldn't get over the emotional shock of Squall's breakdown. It scared her, hearing all of his built up emotions and frustrations spilling out at once.

She wondered where Squall went. After a deathly silent dinner, he had walked her back to the room, picked up his gunblade, and then he left without another word. Quistis didn't know what to do. She doubted if she would ever see him again.

Quistis began to undress, for it was late and the council would be meeting at nine am.

"What could cause a man like Squall to snap?"

Squall walked up the broken path, his mind blank. He didn't think. He just knew that he had to get away. Where, or for what purpose, he was not sure. He just knew that if he went with Quistis back to the hotel, he would not be there when she woke up.

So he walked, farther and farther up the broken brick path up to the antenna. The place, he thought, where all his troubles had begun.

Staring at the technological monolith, quietly sending its signals into space, Squall's head began to clear. An idea formed. An idea so terrible, Squall began to think he would lose his mind.

He walked forward, the moon guiding his footsteps. He knew what he had to do. It was all there was left for him.

Quistis sighed, and went into the bathroom. She was intent on showering, going to sleep, and letting Squall take care of himself. She knew she was being foolish in worrying about him.

She turned on the shower. The water was ice cold, as she expected.

She took off her vest and boots. A piece of gil fell out of the vest pocket and into the small garbage pail. Quistis bent to retrieve it then noticed there was something else in the trash. She took both items out, and left the gil on the counter.

She took one look at the photo, then hurriedly got dressed, all thoughts of a shower gone.

Squall breathed in the night air. It was gloriously cool and fresh tasting. He walked to the edge of the dish, looking across the ocean. The moon reflected off of the water's glassy surface.

Memories came to him then. He remembered six years ago; the last time he saw Rinoa.

Things had been going well for a long time. Squall was more human than he had been then in his entire life. "Yeah, things had been good." He thought, sitting down on the edge of the dish. But then, General Caraway died. And things turned bad.

"Rinoa…"
She was sitting in front of the Caraway mansion, her head pressed against her knees. Squall could remember the sound of a hornet in the garden nearby.

"Are…are you okay?" He had asked slowly, cursing himself for asking the obvious.

"No Squall…I'm pretty far from okay." Rinoa had said, not moving her head up.

The next thing he knew, the hornet landed on him and stung him in the neck. He had to ignore the momentary pain. The venom flowed into his neck, coursing through his veins. Rinoa didn't even look up. Squall knew then that Rinoa was not the one for him. He felt it, as plainly as he felt the dead hornet being crushed in his hand.

"Ah, Rinoa… where did we go wrong?" Squall thought, legs dangling in the stiff wind.

From that point, things had gone steadily downhill. The two got into arguments. Most of the time, the couple would patch things up immediately, without any real damage being done. But the love that was once between them was fading fast. Squall remembered one thing she said quite clearly. "People change Squall. It hurts, but you can't stop it. You can only hope to move on."

From then on, they spoke less and less. Squall buried himself in SeeD work and Rinoa went and did whatever she did, "I sure as hell didn't have a clue."

The end came on a hot day in June. Rinoa had asked Squall to meet her in the Caraway mansion's garden. Squall remembered that she had her back to him, her blue dress undisturbed in the stagnant summer air.

Squall had come straight from the ready room at Galbadia garden. His hair was still wet from the hasty shower he had taken.

When Squall was behind her he stopped, not going to kiss her neck like he usually did. She turned, holding something in her clenched hand.

"I think we both know what's happening Squall." She said, her eyes tearing.
"Yeah, I guess we do." He had said, his eyes on the ground.

Rinoa pressed a small package into Squall's hand. "Goodbye Squall." Rinoa said, before she ran out of the garden.
Squall just stood there, staring at the place where Rinoa ran away. A few minutes, he looked to the tiny package, hastily wrapped in brown paper.

Squall took Rinoa's ring out of his pocket, and pulled his own ring off his finger. The moon illuminated the brightly polished silver on both of them.

"Something for me to remember her by?" He thought, getting up from his sitting position on the ledge.
"Like I would really need the ring to remember her."

Quistis ran quickly up the broken trail to the antenna. She knew what Squall was planning; and she just couldn't let him destroy his life over an old girlfriend.

"Its stupid." Quistis thought, hopping over some boulders that were strewn along the steep path. "Very stupid. He can't change anything by doing this." Her inner voice continued to say.

"Oh really?" Another voice inside Quistis called. "You didn't think it was so stupid when he went out into space for her. You thought it was damned near romantic."

"Romantic or not." Quistis thought, looking up at the antenna. "I have to stop him."

Squall stood in front of President Loire, his father. The older man looked at him, watching his child so full of anger and despair.

"I want you to come with me." Squall's mind remembered his father's words. He could also remember his own response.

"You must be crazy. I can't leave now."
Laguna had sighed deeply. "What for? For SeeD? For Garden? You and Rinoa would have a much better life in Esthar. You would be free from worries! You two could get married, have kids! Why won't you just forget about SeeD?"

Squall was getting angry at this point. "You have no right to control my life Lagu…father. SeeD is my job. I can't just quit because it would be more convenient."

"Oh Christ, here we go again with whatever is 'convenient.' Son, why do you have to be so stubborn?"

Squall was near shouting. "Listen! I made a commitment. I have to follow through. I can't just be like you, always going whenever-" Squall cut himself off when he saw his father's angry look.

"What did you say? Like me? Is this about Raine? Listen Squall, like you; I had a choice to make. Either I stayed, and lose Ellone to Adel, or I go to Esthar to get your sister back!"

Squall began to speak, stopped, then began again. "You…you shouldn't have left her."

Laguna was beginning to soften a bit. "I didn't know Squall. She didn't know it. Considering my options, I think I did the right thing. If you can't understand that…"
Laguna had turned away, then he pulled his tags off his neck and handed it to Squall. "Goodbye Squall. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Quistis reached the doors. She swore when she realized that they were locked. Throwing her shoulder into the door, she tried once, twice, three times before she fell back and cast a powerful ice spell. The door froze, then the heavy steel cracked, and shattered under the intense cold. Quistis ran over the rubble to the elevator.

Squall breathed deeply. He took his gunblade out, and laid it on the floor of the dish. He then took off his ring and jacket. Quistis would know what this meant, when they found his personal effects.
Rinoa's ring, and Laguna's military tags were in Squall's hand. He would take these with him.

Squall breathed deeply, then walked to the very edge of the dish. Years ago, a monster had almost sent him off the side, into the ocean hundreds of feet below. This time, Squall would go over the side.

He lifted one foot, leaned forward a little. A thought crossed his mind. "I'm sorry Quisty."

"Squall!" Quistis yelled as hard as she could, running over to him.

Squall turned. Quistis stood behind him, horror and fear etched across her delicate features.

He opened his mouth to say something, but a sudden wind knocked him off balance and over the side of the dish.

Quistis threw herself forward, letting her whip catch on the metal grating, before she too went over the side, clutching the whip with all her strength. Squall seemed to fall slowly. Slowly enough, that Quistis threw out her hand, and prayed that he would hold on to her.

"Please Squall."

Squall saw Quistis throwing herself off the side, the whip clutched in her hand. Squall's minds screamed for him to reach up, and hold on to Quistis' hand. His hand moved slowly, connecting with Quistis, before time speeded up, and Quistis yanked Squall out of death's embrace.

Quistis gasped as her arms were stretched by Squall and the whip, their only connection to the living world. She was strong, but right now, Quistis didn't know if she was strong enough to pull both of them upward.

Squall was slightly calmer. He knew that he had to pull Quistis out of this. He didn't want her to die.

"Quisty…let go…of me…" He said, looking for something to grab on to.

"Squall…I'm not gonna let you go…" She managed to say.

He saw the metal beam jutting from the side of the antenna. It was less than four meters below him.
Quistis couldn't take it anymore. Her grip on the whip began to slip.

"I'm not gonna let you go…" She said, before her hand let go of the whip handle, and the two began to fall.

Squall felt the air rush past him as he and Quistis began to fall from the dish. The beam rushed towards him. He did not let go of her hand.

The beam flew past his head. His arm shot up, hand outstretched.

"Gotcha." He said. Quistis dangled from his hand.

"Squall! Don't let me go!" Quistis cried out, looking at the ocean hundreds of feet below her.

"Don't be afraid." He said. "I'm not going to let you go." He couldn't be sure if Quistis heard him; the wind seemed to carry his words away.

Squall pulled Quistis higher up, until she too could reach the beam. Once she pulled herself up, Squall pulled himself up as well.

She sat on the beam, her hands clenching the cold metal. He sat next to her, his eyes darting in the moonlight, searching for a way back up.

Squall bent over and picked up his gunblade and jacket. He took the ring in his hand.

"Why?" Quistis asked. She was still shaky from coming so close to dying.

Squall pulled on his jacket. "I…don't know. It just…seemed like the only thing left. I mean, what have I to look forward to in life? Day after day, mission after mission…it all melts together..." He stuffed Rinoa's ring and Laguna's tags into a pocket. "And in the end…I have nothing."

Quistis came up behind him. She was so close; Squall could feel her breath on the back of his neck. "You know that's not true." "You have me." She finished in her head.

"I know." He turned. "Because I have you." He finished in his head.

They stood in silence for a moment, each looking into the other's eyes. Both felt very tired.

Quistis broke her gaze with Squall. "Uh…we better go. We have an early start tomorrow."

"Yeah…" He said. Quistis began making her way back to the elevator. "Wait, Quistis." He went up to her. "Do me a favor." He took her hand in his, and pressed his ring into her palm.

"Hold onto this for me."

Part 2: A Strange Night, and Morning

This is not a real big part of the story, but I am having trouble with aspects of Part 3, which occurs in the SeeD council. So, try this on for size. It's kind of short, but I think it is pretty important, and I also think will eliminate any lingering questions regarding Squall and Quistis' relationship. This part occurs directly after Squall's attempt at suicide is stopped by Quistis.

Quistis entered the bathroom and closed the door. She could hear the sounds of Squall getting ready for bed through the wall. Quistis shook her head, and looked in the mirror. A tired and scared face looked back. She shook her head again; then she noticed the broken pendant on the counter.

Squall took off his boots and jacket and put them on the bureau next to his uniform. He lay down on his bed and took out Laguna's tags. He sighed. 
"Would I have made a difference?" He thought, staring at the corroded metal. "If I…if Rinoa and I had gone to Esthar, would it have mattered? He could barely make out the words. Could I have stopped it? Loire, Laguna, Corporal. 18427A. Or would I be dead too?"
Squall swore. "What hand did fate deal me when I said no to him?"

Quistis picked up the pendant. "So, Squall had the other part the entire time."
Her bag lay on the floor next to her feet. She reached in and searched for her compact.
There was no makeup inside. Instead, there lay a gold ring, and the other half of Squall's pendant. She took the broken metal out.
"Seven years ago…" Quistis took her part of the pendant and the other half, and held them together. "He told me to hold back…that he would go in first."  Quistis let her head fall forward. She was so tired. "He took a baseball bat to the chest…cracked practically every rib he had." So tired. "I finished the job. And found that half of the pendant. Even then…like Griever itself was looking into me…saying… saying something…"
So tired…

Squall's eyes flitted open. He thought he heard hushed sobbing. He rolled over and realized he was still dressed from the waist down. Then the bathroom door opened.
Quistis stood there bathed in the light of the bathroom. He squinted; the light hurt his eyes.
Quistis turned off the light.
She wore a faded gray tank top and sweatpants. She moved to her bed without another word, and closed her eyes.

"Squall…"
Squall felt a hand shaking him gently. He rolled over and saw Quistis kneeling on the floor next to his bed, gently shaking his arm. 

"Yeah, what is it?" The drowsiness in his voice proof of the current time, that being two thirty in the morning.
"This is gonna sound weird… but can I sleep in your bed?" She looked down. "I don't want to be alone."

Squall was too tired to deny. He scooted over on the small bed, allowing Quistis some room.
She got into the bed and pressed herself against him. Squall closed his eyes, trying not to think.
"Squall?" Closing her eyes.

"Yeah?" Not opening his eyes.
"We're friends, right?"
Silence. "Yeah Quistis. We're friends."
Silence. "Squall?"

"Yeah?"

"Good night."
"Sigh." "Good night."

Part 3: The Ride

This part takes place several hours after Part 2. Both Squall and Quistis are now fully conscious. Both are now in a state of limbo over their future as SeeDs. Both are beginning to rethink decisions made eight years ago. Both are beginning to question why.

"…"

"…"

"Good coffee."

"Yeah."

They sat in the restaurant lobby, each sipping at their own large cup of special Dollet roast. It was now eight in the morning, approximately one hour before their ride for the Council came.

"…"

"…"

"Everything ready?"

"That's the third time you asked."
"I know."

They sip the steaming brew at the same time. Quistis, as usual, wears her uniform without a flaw in sight. The gold and silver embroidery looked as bright and new as the day she first put it on. She looked like one of those SeeDs in the propaganda posters. Her hair clean and fresh, the sparse amount of makeup on her face highlighting her jewel like eyes. Yes, in all ways, she looked like the perfect SeeD.

"…"

"…"

"Then why did you ask?"

"I don't know."

Squall looked better than he did yesterday. His hair had been combed back, his long bangs tied with one of Quistis' ribbons at the back of his head. His uniform was wrinkled in more areas than would be allowed on a propaganda poster, but his appearance had been deemed… presentable, at least. The gold and silver embroidery was dull in a few areas. He had noticed a stitch that had come undone. Quistis noticed as well, and neither said anything when she clipped off the loose thread.

"…"

"…"

"Everything's ready."
"I know."

Squall turned to Quistis. He noticed that a strand of her hair had come loose from the small, tight ribbon on top of her head. Squall observed it. She would not be allowed in a propaganda poster if that small strand of hair remained out of the small ribbon.
He knew that he no longer cared about the propaganda poster. The strand was beautiful. It was perfect. If the poster would not allow that small piece of beauty in their picture of the perfect SeeD, then…

"Fuck it."

"…"

"…"

"They put too much sugar in mine."
"Mine too."

Squall kept staring at the hair. The moment was over now. The hair was nothing special anymore. It was just hair, an out of place hair, a hair that he knew, would be placed back in the ribbon. In due time, the hair would be placed back in with the other strands of beauty. He turned his head away.

"I hope the hair stays out of place."

"…"

"…"

"Do you want to talk?"
"I need to think."
"Of course."

Quistis took her eyes off the cup of coffee long enough to look at the brightly polished ring on her finger. For years, she would stare at that ring, longing to be the one to wear it. She wanted to be the one to wear it, she wanted to have Griever for herself. And now that she had Griever…

"What? What the fuck do I have?"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

Yes, she had Griever, and she was still no more or less better off than she was before. She had Griever, she had her uniform, and she had her place in the propaganda poster.

She sighed. The ring barely fit on her thumb. She fit into it better than expected.

Quistis did not notice however, that a strand of her hair had come undone.

The next hour passed by without a word spoken between the two. The other members of the council seemed to trickle down slowly into the lobby. Squall observed each of them, recognition flashing across his eyes. They were all Garden Alumni, and all of them had originally come from Balamb. They all seemed so much older to him than they had when he was in school.

At Garden, their bright and new looking pictures adorned the large copper wall outside the Headmaster's office. Out of the thousand or so SeeDs that had come out of Garden in the first year, these thirteen were all that were left of the first generation.

The other nine hundred and eighty seven were not given pictures. Their names were etched in an obsidian wall, some twenty miles north of the Garden.

Squall finished his coffee and stood up.

Quistis watched the Generals mingle about in the lobby. She remembered that when she was younger, she had looked up to the upper classmen. They seemed so powerful, immortal almost. Quistis had known for a while now that that illusion was long since dispersed. The reason why so many of the SeeDs she had seen in her youth seemed so powerful was because most SeeDs never lived past the age of thirty. She had never understood why so many SeeDs never lived past the age of thirty. Seeing these middle aged, overweight and balding Generals…

"I wonder why I never understood…"

She finished her coffee and stood next to Squall.

"General Foley." Squall said, saluting the first class General. Quistis saluted as well, but she said nothing.

"General Leonhart, General Trepe." Foley said, returning the salutes. "Its good to see you both again. The last time we saw each other was in… Balamb, last winter, right?"

Squall nodded. He, Quistis, and Foley had become what some would call allies since she and Squall had joined the council three years ago. General first class Charles Foley represented practically the only support Squall and Quistis generated from the council. Also to his credit, Foley was an entirely likable and friendly guy. He was forty three years old, black, and partially going gray in some areas of his short hair. Foley, unlike the other members of the council, had only recently accepted the additional title of "Section Commander," which for most SeeDs, basically translated into "retirement."

"That's correct Charles." Squall said, wondering what Foley's stance would be on Esthar. He was about to ask when Quistis chimed said:

"I understand you were given Section Commander status. Congratulations." She said this last bit with something of a grin.

Foley smiled back. He was about to say something when a Dollet soldier with the insignia of a Colonel on his shoulder raised his hands over his head, addressed the council.

"Transport to the palace of the Duke Lorraine, 82^nd of that name, has arrived. Representatives of each Garden will now go to their respective vehicles, and await further instructions from inside the vehicle. Would you all please follow me."

Foley shook his head. "I'll talk to you two later."

The morning air was sticky and hot. Quistis couldn't believe that there had been such nice weather yesterday. She could see that a lot of the other members of the council were suffering under their wool uniforms in the heat of the morning.

She felt the lion etched on the ring on her thumb. "It's going to be a long d-"

A sudden and fierce pain on her neck interrupted her thoughts. She slapped at the source of the pain.

A crushed hornet lay in the palm of her hand.

Part 4: A Fevered Dream

The pain was overwhelming; she could not believe how much venom could be in a small hornet. She almost swooned, the poison causing her eyelids to flutter as she nearly fainted.

Squall noticed immediately. "Quistis!" He whispered harshly. There were Dollet soldiers everywhere. The other SeeDs were already in the vans. He grasped her shoulder, and whispered her name again. "Quistis, are you alright?"

Quistis struggled to remain on her feet. The poison was everywhere in her body. She looked at Squall through half closed lids. "Yeah… yeah I'll be fine. We better get on."

She moved his hand off her shoulder and went into the armored van.

There was no air conditioning in the transport. She noticed this immediately. The other representatives of Balamb Garden sat in their seats; beads of sweat appearing on their oily foreheads.

Quistis half sat, half fell at the far end of the van. The poison in her body was causing voices to be muffled and her vision impaired. A few seconds later, she could not see or hear.

Squall took a seat in front of Quistis.

A soldier in full battle uniform stood at the front of the bus and began reading from a sheet of paper. "On behalf of the Duke Lorraine, Dollet apologizes for these less than ideal travel conditions. These vans have been built to repel any ground attack, being magic, bomb and bullet proof. Air conditioning will not be supplied, at the risk of nerve or CS gas attack. Windows will not be opened at the risk of sniper fire. We will be at the Duke's palace within one hour. Please enjoy your ride."

Squall frowned and loosened his collar. "Chances are, the only risk of attack would come from within the Dollet army; not any outside force."

He frowned and turned around to Quistis. She was sweating heavily, and her eyelids were fluttering. He could have cast a cure spell, had they been outside the van. In these conditions though, all Squall could do was wait and hope Quistis would come out of it before they arrived at the council.

Quistis awoke, sweating and alone in an empty lot. Large weeds, broken beer bottles and cracked pavement surrounded her. It was the kind of place where underage kids would go at night to drink cheap beer and get high. It could also have been used as a resting stop for a group of transients, possibly wishing to start a fire and warm their cold bodies.

She stood up. The sky was a deep dark red, the kind of color you would see in a city on a rainy night. There was no rain though. No rain would fall yet. There were also no stars, nor any trace of the moon.

The night was cold, and it chilled her sweat soaked body to her bones. Her whip hung loosely on her belt. She rubbed her eyes, and looked for a way out of the lot. Then she saw him.

A lone figure stood in the middle of the lot, a gunblade hanging from his belt. Quistis squinted in the near darkness. The figure could have been anyone, but she suddenly had a feeling…

"Squall?" She croaked.

In less than a second, the figure unsheathed the gunblade, and ran full tilt towards a very alarmed Quistis.

Her mind raced, scanning over thousands of possible ways to deal with the situation. Her eyes flashed, as her mind came to the inevitable answer, the correct way for the perfect SeeD to deal with any situation.

Fight.

The figure came at her with the deadly blade at his side, ready to swing upwards in an uppercut. Quistis realized this in less than a second. In the remainder of that second, the whip came alive in her hand as she leapt to the right of her shadowy assailant, vacating the spot where a millisecond later, her body would have been sliced in two.

The assailant realized her move quickly, and his feet moved in front of his body, stopping instantly and using the force from his run to leap directly in front of Quistis, gunblade ready.

The initial shock had worn off, and her whip danced at her feet, waiting for the man to attack, for him to make the first move. The dim, moonless night made any attempt at identifying the assailant futile, unless she managed to get within a centimeter of his face.

The night was silent. The figure apparently made no sound; she could not even hear him breathing in the still night. His silence was of little consequence anyway. She could hear nothing above the symphony of her blood pounding in her ears. Her breath came out in small puffs of smoke, evidence of the heavy moisture in the air…

Without warning, the figure ran to Quistis, gunblade cocked and ready to fire. She brought herself into position, using the heavy handle of her whip to block the first blow, the shot whizzing over her head. She responded with a well-placed roundhouse kick to his side.

Squall looked back at Quistis, his still features masking the concern he felt. He took his seat in front of her still form with good reason. Had any other members of the council seen her, they might have had a reason to discredit her opinion in the council. As far as Squall could tell, none of the other Generals had taken notice of her. They were all dozing away the overheated hour in the armored transport.

He sat back, staring out the thick, bulletproof windows to the crashing waves of the coast below. As an afterthought, he reached back and took her left hand in his. It felt cold and clammy, no doubt a result from the poison in her body. He rubbed her fingers, trying to warm them a little. "Pull out of it. Quisty… pull out of this…"

The fight ensued. He was a vicious, but smart fighter. Quistis gave all she had, and maybe a little bit more. Their bodies fought in darkness, each jab and block; thrust and parry were instinctive. They fought in the darkness like two pieces of space, not entirely tangible, but definitely THERE.

Quistis was tired. Her inner magic, what her classmates had called Limit Breaks, were of no effect on her dark assailant. She had fought in every way she knew how; by the book, around the book, and sometimes flat out breaking the book, and still she could not take him down. She was bleeding from several wounds, mostly on her arms and shoulders, the places where occasionally, the gunblade hit its mark.

Quistis was moving back quickly, her dancing whip keeping the attacker at bay. She snapped the whip at his face, then leapt quickly into the air, flipping once, and bringing her foot down on his forehead. It was beautifully executed, and also represented the only real damage done to him during the battle. It also left her on the hard, cracked pavement of the lot, the wind completely knocked out of her.

She looked up slowly, her breathing ragged, her body limp and cold. A sudden realization came to her, like a heavy lead blanket had just dropped onto her. "I can't win." It was that simple. No matter how hard she tried, her opposition was just too strong. With this realization lodged firmly in her mind, Quistis stood up, letting the whip hang limply at her side. She stood, waiting for the attacker to recover, to stand again and finish his job.

He stood presently. He was obviously injured as well. Besides a new gash in his forehead from her boot, he had marks all over him, some bleeding from the places where the whip had struck. Quistis was beginning to see this. It pained her to see that she was apparently so close; so close to winning, and yet she could not.

More than anything else really, it pained her to know that if she perished, she would not know why. It hurt. It hurt her that the only definite knowledge in her life would be that at the end, she would not know why.

The attacker charged, gunblade low.

What happened next defied all logic, what logic there was in this nightmare world. The whip that had hung so loose and hopelessly in her hand came alive, and struck at the running attacker's knees. The whip wrapped around, once, twice, three times the attackers right knee joint. Before she knew it, Quistis yanked hard on the whip.

The snap that followed was louder than any bolt of lightning, any bomb, any explosion that Quistis had ever heard. The assailant tumbled forward, his right leg useless, paralyzing his lower body.

It had happened so quickly, Quistis didn't even realize her whip had broken in half. She didn't notice the gunblade sweeping out, severing the two major tendons at the back of her right knee. She didn't notice that the gunblade had snapped in half upon impact. She noticed none of this, not even that again, she was tumbling towards the pavement of the forsaken lot. No, she noticed nothing…

Except Squall's bleeding, tired, sweaty face, centimeters in front of her own.

She saw that he was afraid, of her? She tried to speak, but her voice would not respond. Instead she thought, hoping somehow, Squall would hear her.

"Why did you attack me?"

"Why did you attack me?" Squall responded. He was just as confused as she was. He was just as hurt.

Quistis felt herself smile a little. "What have we done?"

Squall shook his head. He had no answer to give.

The whip, now little less than half a meter long, lay next to the discarded gunblade, broken in half. By no one's will, the broken weapons rose. The now hovering weapons darted to the two kneeling SeeDs. The whip wrapped around Squall's neck, and the gunblade was a mere millimeter away from Quistis' jugular.

She stared into his eyes. This was it, their final moment. She knew that the terror in Squall's eyes was mirrored within her own. She inhaled, then exhaled. She closed her eyes, and let her lips move towards his. No more thoughts, no more fighting, no more violence.

Squall moved his head a little to the left, eyes closed, ready to receive his final kiss. Her lips were close, closer than they had ever been before. Their final moment ended. The lips so close…

Crack. The whip attempted to pull itself straight, but then realized it had failed when Squall's neck interfered. The whip had to satisfy itself with the crunch resulting from his now demolished vertebrae.

Slice. The gunblade, apparently deciding that it's business was done, whipped itself upward, leaving a nice and deep hollow of air where Quistis' vocal cords, jugular, and throat had been a moment before.

The hollow shells fell into each other, two meaningless pieces of trash added to the desolation of the cracked and torn up lot. The night sky above was still red, still threatening to spill over at any moment with rain. The rain would have washed away the blood spilling from their bodies.

She sat up to find herself face to face with Squall. Concern was etched across his otherwise unreadable features. She was out of breath, and sweating through the uniform in the baking transport.

"Did you dream?" spoken unlike a question.

"… How did you know?"

He turned his head, to show Quistis a small, pinhole sized scar. She unconsciously moved her hand to feel the angry red welt on her neck.

"The venom in the hornet is strong." He said.

Quistis frowned, moved to say something, then closed her mouth and shook her head.

An armed guard picked up the microphone. "Attention, attention, we will be arriving at the Duke Lorraine's palace in fifteen minutes. On behalf of the Dollet Armed Services, I would like to thank you for your cooperation in this…"

Part 5

The Three Matrix Project

In the heart of Esthar City, much of which now lays in ruin, there is a company called "Three Matrix Archive and Records." This building which Three Matrix used to operate in is now partly destroyed, with its upper fifteen levels being completely blown away.

A young SeeD cadet named Tomas Chee is quietly looking around the basement levels, a titanium spear held in his hands. Chee was not in his SeeD uniform. Instead, all members of the force in Esthar were dressed the same. Dark gray pants, black shirts, heavy chest armor, with a large helmet on his head. The helmet contained a radio.

Chee had been sent into the building in order to seek out any survivors. In the space above him, Chee could hear the fighting between the SeeD forces and the rebel forces.

"We're not going to last much longer." Chee thought, rolling a body over with his spear. The man that the body used to belong too had had his face caved in by a heavy metal pipe, which lay a few meters away. Chee shook his head. He couldn't understand why these people would be murdering one another while a goddamned war was going on.

He was about to give up his search when his SeeD sensitive ears picked up a noise, approximately three hundred meters in front of him. Chee sheathed his spear and ran swiftly but soundlessly to the noise, which came from what appeared to be a kitchen area.

Chee stopped, slowed his breathing and listened. The sound had stopped. Chee unsheathed his spear, holding it in an underhand position. He didn't move.

The noise started again, and Chee could tell that it came from a large, industrial refrigerator, right in front of him. Chee exhaled, sheathed his spear and took out his sidearm. He crept to the refrigerator, cocked the pistol…

Chee swung the door open, and immediately holstered his weapon as a haggard, freezing man tumbled out. The man was speaking in tongues, and shaking hard.

Chee tried to speak to the man. However, Chee's remedial level Estharian seemed to have no effect on the freezing and obviously terrified civilian. So Chee just picked him up and slapped him full across the face.

"Pull yourself together!" He shouted, as an explosion rocked the foundation of the building. The man screamed hysterically, and fell to his knees, hands clamped in prayer.

Chee shook his head, viciously pulled the man up again and shouted, "SeeD! SeeD! I'm a SeeD!"

The man's eyes widened. He finally fell silent.

Another explosion. Chee heard the sounds of airships rising. Then a crackle from his radio.

"Corporal Chee, this is Lieutenant Silla. We are pulling out. Repeat, we are pulling out of Esthar City."

Chee nodded. "Sir, this is Chee. I have one survivor, a starry, request immediate air support. Three Matrix is not going to last much longer."

Silence.

"Negative Corporal. Airship Pantomime is pulling out, with or without you."

Chee swore. "How much time do I have sir?"

Silla took her time to respond. "Ten minutes. We'll hold out as long as possible."

Fisherman's Horizon had been quickly transformed into the largest military camp ever assembled. Fully sixteen square miles of floating ground had been added on to house all the military staff, weapons, munitions, and transportation, from Airships to Juggernaut class M1 Battleships. Almost the entire civilian population of FH had been quietly escorted out of the area to an undisclosed location in southern Galbadia.

Lieutenant Silla, a charming woman and SeeD of four years sat behind Corporal Chee in one of the interrogation rooms. The room was plain, with one two-way mirror on one of the walls. Silla could barely make out the forms of recording technicians behind the glass.

"And then I just came upon this starry, hiding in a refrigerator. The call came from my CO, and I just took 'em and ran."

The interrogator, a thin and balding man in his forties, took a drag on his cigarette. Silla wondered briefly if the smoke from the cigarette interfered with the recording equipment.

The interrogator looked to the mirror before saying, "Son, do you know who you took from that building?"

Silla's face contorted slightly upon hearing this… civilian call one of her best men "son."

Chee noticed also, but he did nothing to reveal his irritation. "Negative, he just looked like another starry."

The interrogator took another drag and addressed Silla, who hadn't said anything during the entire interrogation. "You authorized Corporal Chee here to enter the Three Matrix building?"

Silla was beginning to wonder where this interrogation was going. "Yes. We were on refugee detail when the rebels started to blast us. The starry from Three Matrix was the only civilian we managed to get out."

"Corporal Chee, did you happen to come across any record material? Specifically twenty millimeter Digital Audio Tapes?"

Chee shrugged. He wanted to look to Silla for reassurance, but he realized that this was more than just a post mission interrogation. "No. It all looked like rubble to me. If there were any DATs, I doubt they would have survived. The building collapsed shortly after we evacuated."

The interrogator nodded, and looked to the mirror again. He looked back at the two SeeDs. "Corporal Chee, you wouldn't be lying to me, would you?"

This was too much for Silla. She stood and walked calmly to the window. "I think that about does it for now." She stood, patted Chee on the shoulder. He stood and walked after his CO.

The interrogator looked desperately to the mirror. "Wait, we're not finished here!"

"I say you are." Silla said, holding the door open for Chee. "Good evening to you gentlemen." She spoke this last to the men behind the mirror.

Part 5, B

The Three Matrix Project

Another interrogation room, another thin, balding interrogator. Except now the Estharian from Three Matrix is being interrogated. An interpreter, wearing the traditional robes of Esthar sat between the two men. The Estharian has calmed down visibly since being brought into camp.

The interrogator took a drag on his cigarette. It seems that there is only one kind of interrogator in the world.

"State your name please."

"I am Pocoshe Vinsino, CEO of the Three Matrix company." Spoken through the interpreter.

The interrogator took another drag. "Three Matrix had been charged by your government with the task to catalogue Esthar's history. How long have you been working on this?"

The translator translated. Vinsino took his time to respond. He licked his licks before speaking rapidly for several seconds.

"The hell did he just say?" Interrogator asked this to the translator.

The translator shrugged. "He says that he will give you what information he has, but that he is obliged under contract not to say anything else."

The interrogator tapped his cigarette, letting the ashes fall onto the table. "Who is the contract with?"

The translator listened as Vinsino went on for a few minutes. The interrogator wondered briefly if his kids had gotten to school this morning.

The translator nodded when Vinsino finished. "All he can say is that the contract is with a third party outside of the government. Saying anything else would be breach of contract."

The interrogator looked to the window.

The Three Matrix project, started with the first bullet of the revolution, has now been brought to SeeD attention. Where SeeD goes from here is up to two very confused Generals, who at this very moment are in a regal palace in Dollet.

Thus begins a tale.

Part 5, C

A starry DAT

A mile away, in the main intelligence building, a bored tech is putting a rather battered DAT into his computer. This was his last charge of the day before he could go home.

The tech, a twenty three year old Galbadian named Ivan, was surprised to learn that the starry's DAT was actually contained an audio file. He pressed play.

"As I'm sure many of you know, Esthar was found when refugees from the Lunar Cry went their separate ways. The one's who went northwest, they founded the countries of Galbadia and Dollet, while the one's who went northeast, founded the country of Esthar. Move forward a few thousand years, you will find that every sorceress, since the Great Hyne decided to split itself in half, has been in the borders of Esthar. Thusly, every Sorceress that ever came into being ruled as a Queen, or tyrant, or whatever you want to call her. Then Loire showed up, led the rebellion, and cast Esthar into a state of global unconsciousness, and the planet into perpetual silence, due to the radio interference."

The tape was scratchy, with a lot of static in the background. Ivan frowned as he thought for a second, then started the recording again.

"Of course, you all know what happened then.

However, I am willing to bet that none of you know anything about Esthar itself. Would you think that eight years would create any real cultural integration between a xenophobic country and the rest of the globe? No, I wouldn't think so. So, let me explain it briefly:

The static continued in the background. Ivan frowned again, thinking. Digital audiotapes were known for their amazing clarity, and static, even on a damaged DAT, was a very rare occurance.

"The government of Esthar is composed of three branches:

The Judicial branch, which handles all matters of law enforcement, from arrest to trial to punishment. (Incidentally, torture and the death penalty had been removed under the Loire rule, but more on that later).

The Legislative branch, which is a council of four representatives from the city's Alpha, Beta, Theta, and Delta districts. The Omega district, or more accurately the presidential palace, is exempt from the council, but is the final word on any decisions made.

The Executive branch is the President of Esthar, who once elected, is ruler for life. At the time of the president's death, the people have a choice of whether or not the heir will take his or her father's place as ruler. If not, the country is controlled by the council until an adequate candidate is found.

The system sounds perfect, no? In case you're wondering, the Executive branch of the government controls all military concerns. However, like any other military, there are numerous ranks that can be acquired in the Estharian Armed Forces.

I assume that most of you already know how technologically advanced Esthar City is. Indeed, the technology is second to no other country in the world. The city itself is a testament to man's will to create beauty in everything he sees."

The tape went into indistinct static for a few more moments. Ivan popped the DAT out. "Something isn't right here. The static… noises in the background…"

Ivan pushed the DAT into a different machine; this one was hooked up to several glowing LED meters.

Ivan's eyes widened as he saw the meters turn from green to yellow to red. According to the machine, this DAT contained over twenty gigabytes of information, way more information than a simple audiotape would contain.

"What if…"

"Ivan."

Ivan was broken from his thoughts by the relief tech. "Bedtime my man."

Ivan frowned, looked at the DAT again. "Yeah, yeah… hey, would you hold onto this for me? Just until morning?"

"Sure thing. Sweet dreams."

Ivan left the office. The relief tech, whose name was Domi, pocketed the tape, forgetting immediately it was there.

End Part 5.

Part 6

Introduction of Hijirah

In the SeeD encampment, an unapproved satellite call has just been picked up.

CALL BEGIN: 17:54, FH TIME

TO: 1-245-17-872-555-4185 {POS. IDENT: RAHEEM SOHRAB}

FROM: 1-001-02-210-555-9829 {POS. IDENT: HIJIRA MUHAJID.}

ALERT: HIJIRA MUHAJID, RECENTLY ESCAPED FROM HADES INTERNATIONAL CORRECTIONAL FACILITY, BLUE WATER ISLAND, GALBADIA. SUSPECTED IN VARIOUS ASSASSINATIONS OF HIGH-RANKING GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS. CONSIDER ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS.

BEGIN RECORDING: 17:54, FH TIME

SOHRAB: Who the fuck is this? Motherfucker, you know what time it is?

MUHAJID: Raheem, its Hijira.

SOHRAB: … how did you get this number?

MUHAJID: Raheem, just listen. I'm out. I'm coming home.

SOHRAB: Hijira, shit… boy, that might have been possible a couple weeks ago, but none of us can afford you back in town. You come here, then we all dead, not just those dumb niggas that shot up Loire.

MUHAJID: Raheem, I don't care. I just need you to let me back in Nial long enough for me to get my stuff. Then I'm gone.

SOHRAB: … you mean that?

MUHAJID: On my mother's fucking grave.

SOHRAB: (indistinct) Alright. I'll tell the brothers on guard detail not to shoot you on sight.

MUHAJID: If I hadn't called you, would they?

END CALL.

ALERT FORWARDED TO G.I.A. DELETE RECORDING FROM SEED DATABASE?
(Y/N)

Y.

Hijira hung up the phone, and let out a sigh. The sigh that came from him was not just a mere audible exhalation of breath. No, this was the sigh of complete and utter relief. A sigh of knowing. Hijira knew that a certain hell he had known for fourteen years, for a little less than half of his bloody natural life, was near an end.

Hijira sighed again. This time, it was merely audible exhalation of breath.

He stood on the bow of a Galbadian ferry, service from a part of the suburbs, heading into one of the port towns west of Deling City. He seemed out of place among the pale business people.

Hijira had escaped from Hades two weeks ago, presumably at the same moment when the President of Esthar, Laguna Loire, had been shot in the face, and half of government center blown to pieces. Hijira was a handsome man of thirty-eight years. He stood at six feet tall, and had a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee on his face. His skin was light brown, like an eggshell. He did not look all that unusual, except for the unnatural coolness of his blue eyes.

Part 6, B

Homecoming

Nial was the same. A small town in the vast southeastern deserts of Esthar which attracted the bare minimum of tourists. Though Nial was located in Esthar, there were no Estharians living there. The people who lived in Nial were a sub race of desert inhabitants descended from the first Centran refugees and nomads. These tall, dark skinned people were called Guevarians, the name translating to the ancient Centran for desert.

The Guevarians have a long and rather intellectual history. Aside from the first to use a solar rather than lunar calendar, the Guevarians were credited for mapping nearly half of the known world, as well as being the original inventors of the ancient weapon of a knight, the gunblade.

Like all desert towns, Nial was centered on an oasis among the harsh mountains and air. The oasis however, had long since dried up, and a large machine sat in the depression among the rocks and sand. This machine was named a condenser; its function was to separate hydrogen and oxygen atoms from the air, day and night, to provide water for Nial's inhabitants.

The township of Nial itself however, was little more than two adobe structures, one on each side of a dusty street, spanning for a half mile, with the condenser machine in the middle.

Raheem Sohrab's personal transport, a late model light blue "Leo" convertible, had picked Hijirah up along the outskirts of Nial about twenty minutes ago. Just now the proprietor of the "Aloca Inn and Bar" could see the trail of dust and sand left by the Leo's tires.

Hijira stood on the road of Nial for the first time in nearly five years. The last time he was in Nial had just been to drop of his clothing and equipment before he was caught and sent to Hades.

He inhaled deeply. The hot, dry air had already caused sweat to bead on his forehead. He wasn't necessarily happy about being "home." Nial was never really "home" anyway; more like a place you stop in every now and then than anything Hijira would call "home."

He started walking to the Aloca. If he guessed right, Raheem would be in the office above right now, either fucking one of the Aloca's waitresses, or counting the profit from his small "family" business.

As it turned out, Hijira had been correct about the former. The girl ran out of the office with an embarrassed smile on her face, leaving an angry Sohrab behind the desk, quickly zipping his fly.

"Raheem, my brother." Hijira walked up to the desk. Raheem looked the same as he always looked; overweight, balding, and sweating. If Raheem walked into any other town on the planet, no one would spare him a second look, unless it was a look of disgust. But Raheem was smarter than his appearance gave him credit. He was smart enough to know not to try to rise any higher than this, a family boss in an armpit desert town.

"Don't 'my brother' me, you damn fool." Raheem never liked his nephew. He always thought that the boy had aspirations higher than what his skin and history could ever hope to accomplish. He had said as much to his sister until the day she died.

Hijira just shook his head. The heat was getting to him. He just wanted to get his gear and get the hell out of town. "Look, I'm not going to trouble you. I just came to get my supplies, maybe say hello to my father and sister, then that's it. You'll never have to see me again Raheem."

Raheem snorted. "Hmp. You wanna see your daddy; you better take one of those guns of yours and shoot your dumb self in the head. Yo' daddy's dead boy. Of course you would have known that if your dumb ass wasn't getting sodomized over at Hades."

Hijia felt his jaw tighten. He had never held any real love for his father. More respect than anything else, but never love. But being told that his father, his only father on this earth, was dead in such a crude way by his ass of an uncle… it just put a shadow over the feeling of freedom he had since escaping. He spoke quickly.

"First of all, I do not participate in homosexual sex while in prison, Raheem. More than a half a dozen of 'em had to die before they learned that. Second of all, I don't give a damn about my father, and I sure as hell am not going to swallow a bullet on his account. Third of all… third of all, go fuck yourself anyway nigga. I didn't escape from hell to have you pound on my head with your bullshit in the middle of this damn heat in this fucking town. Just give me back my gear and I'm out of here."

Raheem snorted again. He didn't seem to hear Hijira's calmly executed outburst. "How you gonna get out of here, boy? Matter of fact, how'd you get in, anyway? You know them damn niggas go on and kill that Estharian president put the entire world on edge. They got SeeD over here now, you know that boy? How the hell you gonna get past SeeD, 'Hijira'?"

Hearing his uncle make a mockery of his name made Hijira want to break the bastard's neck where he sat. Instead, Hijira stood silent and tall. He had said all he would say.

Raheem gave a dry, sour chuckle. "Oh you gonna cry now boy? Fine, fine. I'll get yo' sister up here, she'll take you to your stuff."

Raheem stabbed a fat finger into an antiquated intercom system. He pressed his lips right next to the speaker and spoke softly enough that Hijira couldn't hear.

A second later, someone knocked on the door. "Get in here!" Barked Raheem.

An attractive woman, about thirty five years old, walked into the room. She was dressed in the coarse black robe of a priestess of the Hyne. The bright red cross glared at Hijira out of the robe. Upon seeing Hijira, the priestess slapped him full across the face.

"Bastard." She spat.

Hijira rubbed his cheek. He had expected such a greeting from his baby sister.

"Hello Majila. Nice to see you again." He said.

Majila looked about ready to curse Hijira out again, but Raheem interrupted her.

"Majila, save it. Bring this boy to his shit and then see him safely out of Nial. Once he's out, he's out for good, ain't that right Hijira?"

"Yes Raheem." Hijira said simply.

"Go on." Raheem said to Majila.

The cool air of the temple was glorious after the heat of the Aloca's top floor. Hijira said as much to Majila. She did not look at nor did she speak to Hijira until they came to the domed temple, almost fifty feet below the harsh surface.

Majila bent to one knee before she passed the arch into the domed room. Hijirah walked right through.

The temple looked as he always remembered it. Dusty old prayer rugs hanging from the walls, the musty smell of smoke and incense. The temple was lit faintly by torches dotted among the room. At the far side, opposite the entrance, stood an eight foot tall figure of the Great Hyne, surrounded by votive candles, incense, and photographs of young men. Hijira asked Majila, "What's with the photos?"

Majila kneeled in front of the figure. "Men and boys that left the town to wage the Holy War. The Blessed Hyne is the only one who can help them."

Hijira tried hard not to roll his eyes. "Was departed father one of those?"

Majila did not look at her brother. "No; departed father died of stroke last year. He did not get the chance to remove the dishonor from his soul." She started weeping. "So much dishonor in our family. I pray day and night that the Forgiving Hyne excuse our sins. But there are just so many sins to atone for… departed father never atoned for the adultery he committed with that…" she stopped crying and her face grew dark, "woman! That outsider! She wasn't even Guevarian! I-"

Majila could have gone ranting about the white woman for the next few hours if Hijira had not shaken her shoulder. "Majila… my stuff."

She eyed him coldly. "Of course."

The priestess stood and walked to a dark area of the temple, not lit by torchlight. Hijira could not see, but he thought he heard the sound of a metal door opening, then wheels across the stone floor. When Majila appeared again, she was pulling a casket on wheels behind her.

Hijira stared at the last home of a human being. This was not the kind of omen he was ready for.

"Go on, do what you have to do." And with that, she left the temple.

Hijira sighed and bent to open the casket.

The things inside were for survival. There were five handguns, during his youth, he had named the pistols The Five Desires of Man: The two matching .44 automatics were called Vengeance and Justice. The long barreled assassin's pistol named simply Judgement with a silencer and scope. Finally, the two seven shot PPk's were named Life and Death, because Life contained merely powerful electric pulses that would incapacitate without killing. Death used seven extremely dense and extremely compact armor piercing bullets, made from depleted uranium.

The things inside were for necessity. In a sealed plastic bag were his Galbadian style clothes: Loose black canvas pants with reinforced stitching, a short-sleeved white linen shirt, a brown leather mid-length jacket and black boots. Under his clothes and guns, there was a thick stack of gil notes, about ten inches square, totaling one hundred thousand gil.

Finally, the things inside were for his profession. There was a Ulysses shotgun laying in pieces, ready to be assembled and cleaned. A rucksack full of ammunition, raw materials such as Dark Matter, and the tools for creating special shotgun shells.

Hijira stripped off his sweat soaked and dirty clothes, and proceeded to dress in his old clothes. He put Vengeance and Justice in a double holster on the small of his back. A double jacket holster held Life and Death on each side of his body, twelve centimeters under each armpit. Judgement hung at his waist.

He cleaned and assembled the Ulysses with a robot like ease and precision, before he slung the shotgun on his back. In all, he carried nearly thirty kilograms of tempered and polished steel on his person.

Hijira left the casket open on the floor. Let Majila take care of it, he decided. She's going to hate me anyway.

He climbed the stairs out of the ceiling, and was surprised to see Majila, Raheem, and several of Raheem's "men" were waiting for him.

"An armed escort to lead me out of town, Raheem?" Hijira said without rancor.

Raheem obviously did not want to be out in the sun. "No. Majila, give it to him."

Majila stepped forward, and for the first time, Hijira noticed the glint of steel under her robe. His suspicions were confirmed when she unsheathed his fahter's gunblade.

"Departed father requested you should take the family burden. "La Falca de Guevaria." The Desert Falcon. He wanted you to have it, Hijira."

Hijira looked down at the gunblade. It was a revolver, a bird of prey etched at the tip of the blade. Probably weighed about ten kilos, Hijira thought.

He sighed. "Fine." He took the gunblade, and waited as Majila unhooked the holster.

Raheem grunted. "Get out of my town."

Hijira ignored him. "Are you ever going to forgive me, Majila?"

His baby sister looked up at him, the harsh look in her eyes softening for a moment. "It's not my place to forgive you Hijira. Its yours."

"I did what I did because it was the right thing to do. The woman may have been an outsider. But her child, father's and the woman's, Juliet, she was our sister…"

Majila stared at the ground. "I never have, nor will I ever acknowledge Juliet, as my sister. Hijira. If you were ever a brother to me, or a son to mother, you would understand that. As it stands now, it's all between you and the Great Hyne. I will have no more of it."

Hijira was not encouraged by these words. Whatever elation he felt from escaping was gone now, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. In the coming days and months, Hijira would know what it would mean to understand the feelings, as he will be unwillingly dragged into issues of the past, the present, and the future. Even though he had gained exodus from an undesirable place*, his journey was far from over.

*The Hijira: Muhammad's flight from Mecca, ie: exodus from an undesirable place.

Part 7

Throwing Stones in a Hall of Mirrors

The Hall of Mirrors, the famous meeting room of the Duke's palace, seemed to be filled with thousands of SeeDs, each milling about and within and among the beautiful crystal walls. Dozens of Squalls, Quistis', and Charles' sat on all sides of the room, gazing at the walls and ceilings at the seeming chaos of the SeeDs.

Quistis wondered at the kind of irony that had to be utilized in creating such a room. In the Hall of Mirrors, there had probably been countless acts of subterfuge, treason, double-dealing, and other various forms of extortion and manipulation. "What kind of sick architect would force a corrupt politician to have to look at himself in the mirror after every decision he would ever make in this room?" Quistis mused on the consciences of politicians for a while longer, before she finally turned to Charles.

"Where's Censura?" She asked, referring to the council's moderator.

Charles shrugged, looking very bored. "Who knows? With all of the advancement in diplomatic relations in the world, I still wonder why the creators of this council can't create a functioning schedule."

Quistis smiled wryly as Charles continued.

"I mean look at us Quistis. We're practically going to be controlling the fate of the world, and yet we cannot create a schedule that will get everyone in on time." Charles trailed off as he looked at Quistis' hand. "That's a very handsome ring, Quistis. May I inquire where you purchased it?"

Quistis started to mouth something. Just as she was about to speak, the doors opened, with the Council moderator and his staff following immediately afterwards.

Squall made a conscious effort to clear his mind as the generals began to sit and organize themselves. Though he did not want to admit it to himself, since he was after all trying to keep his mind blank, he was extremely nervous about speaking. For one horrible second he thought his armpits smelled, but then he realized it was one of the other three generals to his right. Quistis was on his left.

Then Squall's mind decided to do something awful. A clear and extremely provocative picture of Rinoa suddenly flashed into his mind.

"Oh god… not now… Rinoa…"

But he wasn't so much seeing Rinoa as he was seeing a finely sculpted landscape of perfect ivory; the whiteness offset only by two obsidian deposits and the two fields of red roses. A second later, all he could see were the roses of her lips, as they kissed his own, and then kissed his chest, and then…

"God… no not now…" The stink of body odor was now definitely coming from him. One of the other Balamb representatives eyed him quickly. Squall was the picture of stoic calm, but in his mind, seas of old lust and love swelled.

He was being crushed under tons of red flower petals and pure white feathers. His body felt like it was trapped in the hot and humid atmosphere of Deling City in mid summer. His mouth tasted of sickeningly sweet strawberries and apricots. Venom poured through his veins…

And it was suddenly all stopped by Quistis' lips brushing against his left ear as she whispered, "Be ready for anything, Squall."

The sights, tastes, and overall sensation of the hallucination were gone now, being replaced by the warm feeling of two soft lips brushing his earlobe. He whispered in response, "Okay."

Censura, the moderator of the SeeD council's meetings, cleared his throat and spoke. "Good morning everyone. The time is ten am, Dollet Standard. I hereby announce this, the fourteenth council of the Worldwide Garden Alliance open. Today we will discuss SeeD's involvement with the recent violent coup de tat in the Republic of Esthar. General Foley of Galbadia Garden, would you please make your opening statement."

Foley rose, walked to the center of the room, and addressed the other Garden's representatives, slowly moving in a circle in order to catch everyone's eyes in the circular room.

"Thank you moderator Censura. I have been charged with finding out the details of the coup de tat as of today. So far, gentlemen, ladies, there have been an estimated four thousand casualties in Esthar city, including rebellious forces, Republic Soldiers, and civilians. Government center and the Presidential Palace in the Omega district have been completely destroyed, causing an estimated fourteen trillion gil in damages."

Foley paused for a moment to allow time for the information to be scribbled in various notebooks, then he continued. "Of course, that's all the information that has been released to the international press. However, there is more to this coup, a lot more."

Foley then proceeded to pass out eight by ten black and white photographs to each member of the council, including Censura. "These," he said, "are the rebels that took Esthar. Members of a sub-race of Esthar called Guevarians."

Quistis carefully studied the photographs. A group of tall young men with dark skin, wearing sashes at their waists, and… she blinked at this, gunblades at their sides. She eyed Squall, and he raised his eyebrows slightly.

"The Guevarians you see in these photos are the ones who carried out the assassination of President Loire and most of his cabinet. The palace was then blown to pieces moments later by rocket attack, which we believe came from one of Esthar's offshore missile bases, which supports the widely held theory that parts of the Estharian armed forces were in league with the Guevarians." Foley paused, swallowed, then said "As of this moment, we do not know the answers to two very important questions; the first, is how the Guevarians came into league with the Estharian armed forces, and second, is why the Guevarians attacked in the first place."

Foley suddenly started walking in a long, fast circle around the room. "Right now the international press is making their own story, that being the coup was part of a larger, proletarian type revolution. Right now, it's probably best that we don't say anything." Foley stopped suddenly. "Until we're sure, it is my recommendation that the council vote on total Media Blackout."

Quistis scribbled something on a note and handed it to Squall. "I think he knows more than he's willing to say."

Squall scribbled back, "I think you're right."

The various other speakers went on, but Quistis found herself not paying much attention. All the generals seemed to be saying the same things; immediate and swift retaliation, rallying of troops worldwide, continued occupation of FH, etc. etc…

She just hoped that what she and Squall had to say would make some difference in the general attitude of action to take to this so-called proletarian revolution.

Censura cleared his throat. "Next speaker; General third class Squall Leonhart. He will be speaking his individual assessment of SeeD's actions."

Squall stood, and glancing once into Quistis' eyes, strode to the center of the room. "I'm ten years old all over again, trying to impress a bunch of older people I don't even know."

"Thank you Moderator Censura. Gentlemen and ladies, our latest complete intelligence reports, received about forty eight hours ago, estimate the Guevarian's forces at around ninety five thousand men. By all accounts, these men are well trained, and are using some of the latest weapons in Esthar's arsenal. As you know, the combined forces of SeeDs, Estharian soldiers, and miscellaneous soldiers from Balamb and

Galbadia total about thirty three thousand; a little more than one third of the force of the Guevarian's."

Squall paused as a few concerned mutterings floated through the air.

"The report received two days ago also stated that the Guevarian's main forces were situated in the center of Esthar itself. However, partial reports received in the last fourteen hours have stated that Guevarians living in the deserts and mountains in the Esthar continent have been rising up in revolt themselves. Therefore, if we were to count every Guevarian on the Esthar continent as a threat, then we are looking at an army of nearly one billion men, women, and children."

One of the Balamb representatives handed Quistis a sheet of paper. "Just in from FH: Guevarians have officially taken the capital; our forces are being driven out of countryside. Estimated time until complete evacuation of our forces; fifteen hours."

Quistis glanced incredulously at the General. She shrugged. Quistis coughed silently, holding out the sheet to Squall. He took the paper, reading quickly.

"We have just received a communiqué from FH. SeeD has evacuated the city of Esthar, and a general retreat has been called to the forces in the country-side."

A representative of Trabia stood. "This is an outrage! SeeD has jurisdictional right to be in Esthar. We can't let these Guevarian thugs push us out while we're trying to get innocent civilians evacuated!"

A representative from Galbadia also stood. "He's right. These Guevarians are breaking international law. Moderator Censura, we can't let these talks continue further-"

The general was cut off by Quistis' authoritative teacher's voice breaking through the din. "May I remind you all that General Leonhart has the floor right now. Moderator Censura, I request that the next outburst that occurs be considered grounds for contempt of the Council."

Censura nodded. "Granted, General Trepe."

Squall shook his head. He wished Quistis had spoken up before that second one stood. He sighed. It didn't matter now. The atmosphere was electrified with the desire to make war, yet no one in the entire room knew why. "It-

-starts." Quistis thought, not knowing that she just completed Squall's thought.

"As I was saying, it is a simple matter of numbers. Thirty thousand troops cannot possibly fight a war with an entire race. All out war would mean nothing but death of SeeDs and in…no…cent…" Squall trailed off as he saw the expressions of the members of the council. Foley looked like he wanted to say something, Quistis' expression showed sympathy and hope. The other twelve members burned with a lust for battle that Squall remembered all too well.

"So, let me get this straight General Leonhart. Is it your recommendation that we break off all fighting?"

Squall swallowed. "It is my recommendation that we not start a war until we know what we're fighting for."

The stone basin was filled to the brim with cool, glasslike water. The surface shattered as Squall threw his face under, letting out a silent scream.

He pulled his head out of the water, his head soaking wet. He searched for the towels in the large bathroom.

The door opened and Foley walked in, trailed by Quistis. She carried a clean linen towel. Squall took it wordlessly.

"Its not like this is unexpected." Charles said, turning away from the two to wash his hands in the basin. "SeeD has been quite a lucrative business ever since all three Gardens adopted the program. They probably only want a war because it seems like a good way to make a lot of money at the expense of a few million poorly trained desert dwellers." He finished washing his hands and turned back to Squall and Quistis. The two stared into each other's eyes; the scene made Foley stop and look from Squall to Quistis, a poorly masked look of confusion on his face.

Quistis broke the silence. "You don't believe we're just fighting against a group of poorly trained desert dwellers, do you Charles?"

Foley stood silent, then he pointed up to a vent in the ceiling. He mouthed the word, "Later", then said "Well, none of us really know what we're fighting, do we? My meaning is that it's unfair to simply excuse these rebels as uneducated bandits."

Squall grit his teeth. "I'm not in the mood for this espionage bullshit." "You probably know by now that Quistis and I are against this war. What about you? It's not going to be anything except needless waste of life on both sides, and I am very sure you know that."

Foley took a look of indifference. "What exactly are you asking, Squall?"

Squall couldn't believe what he was about to say. "How do you feel about our actions?"

Quistis couldn't believe it either.

Foley's indifferent look lingered. "My feelings and opinions have nothing to do with this, General Leonhart."

Foley paused.

"I am surprised though, at your reaction to this mess Squall. I would have expected that you of all people would want to keep personal feelings out of this."

Squall's head hurt. "It's not about personal feelings. It's about…" Squall broke off. "Forget it."

Charles looked confused, but Quistis understood. "Come on Squall. It's time we get back."

Censura read something on a piece of paper, then he spoke. "It is now four p.m. Today's meeting is adjourned until tomorrow morning at ten am. Please have your individual plans of action ready for presentation."

Censura made another one of his pauses. "On a more personal note, I would like to say that despite the Council's seeming single-mindedness towards this issue, we must still not rush to judgement, whether it be for or against a war with these Guevarians. I want you all to keep in mind that when you signed up for SeeD, you agreed to two things. One, as a SeeD you are required to follow orders precisely, without question and without fail. And two, when you sign up for SeeD, you are a SeeD for life; therefore, whatever the council may decide, that decision is as law, and must be abided by all here present, is that understood? This meeting is adjourned. Good day."