Disclaimer- I own absolutely nothing, if I did Rinoa wouldn't end up with Squall.
A/N- I have always wanted to write a Final Fantasy Fic, and once I was done playing FFVIII I couldn't help but notice Quistis and Squall. I wrote this for a couple reasons.
First being that the plot was working its way around my head and wouldn't leave me alone until I put pen to paper. Second being that I wanted to see if this community was still alive. And Last being that I wanted to see if I was the only Quistis/Squall fan.
Also there is a lot of point of view changes. But that'll only last a few chapters. Flashbacks are in Italics.
So without further ado here is Evading Away!
Read and Enjoy.
Over Time.
"I can't believe you." She whispers shakily.
"No, you don't understand, please-"He gently moves towards her, but is cut off by her tear stricken voice.
"Don't come near me." She mummers angrily, taking several pained steps away.
He stops, letting her inch away from him "Just listen-"
"No! I don't need to listen your bullshit." She says, voice quivering "I saw you. I saw you with her" She stops for a moment, before she painfully continues "in your dorm room, in your bed."
With an uncharacteristic look of desperation in his gray eyes, he quickly moves pass several retired dorm rooms and latches onto her trembling shoulders.
"Don't do that." He speaks softly, referring to the tears freely flowing down her pink cheeks. His heart thumped rigorously against his pressured ribs. His heart clenched even more so when he realized those tears of pain and sorrow was because of him.
"Look... what you saw in there... wasn't what it looked like."
Her eyes, which had been downcast at their feet suddenly whipped up to meet his tortured ones. He inwardly cringed as he saw her vivid blue eyes shimmering with fresh unshed tears. He cringed even more so when he detects rage and disbelief hidden behind her blue orbs.
"No. Don't you lie to me. Don't you dare!" She had now ripped his hands off and put a considerable amount of icy distance between them. "What am I suppose to think then?" he barely hears her whisper with a hint of hope laced cleverly within her words. He knows she's willing him to explain, to say something that could instantly cure this horrendous situation.
But he stiffens, how was he supposed to explain this? He never spoke more than when it was necessary. Words had never come easy to him, and he was okay with that. Until now when he was this close to losing his girlfriend, losing his love, losing her. He racks his brain but it seems that it left him high and dry shutting down completely. He opens his mouth, willing himself to say something, anything. Yet no words came out, not even a squeak or a noise.
He stands there, in the middle of the dormitory hallways, opening and closing his mouth, gaping like a fish out of water.
He sighs, giving up on words, hoping his actions will speak for him, he attempts to take a step closer to her, but he freezes mid-step with the next words out of her mouth.
"No." She speaks softly, wringing her hands around one another until her knuckles turn ghost white. With apprehension she whispers her next words fearfully.
"It's over."
He stood and he stood. Rooted to his position by an unseen force. His eyes darken and the expression on his pained face toughens. He clenches his jaw until he thought it might break from the sustained pressure. "So, this is it." He forces out.
She hesitantly nods, willing herself to hold together until she can at least get back to the safe confides of her room. She swallows thickly "Yes, it is." with that she turns on her heel and hurtfully heads towards the elevators.
He watches her tear stained face get lost as the steel doors of the elevator slide close. The echo of the sliding door lingers in the halls, it lingers longer in his head as he realizes that that was the last time he was ever going to see her again. Yet it seemed to resound in his heart as Squall realizes he let Quistis Trepe slip away from him.
-----
Quistis jolted awake, the soft mattress beneath her slightly bouncing until it came to a complete rest. She breathes heavily and runs her hands through her mussed blonde locks. This was getting utterly ridiculous. That was the fourth dream she's had about him.... nightmare. It wasn't a dream, it was a horrid nightmare. Any memories of him, was complete pain that tears through her newly repaired heart.
She feels a familiar pair of arms encircle her slender waist, and she instantly relaxes, forgetting about him. At least for the moment. She could never forget that man; he was too much of a big part in her life. That was all past tense now. At the moment he was insignificant.
"You okay honey?" an everyday voice asks her.
Quistis lets a smile grace her beautiful features, as he places a light kiss over her neck. "Yeah. Everything's fine. Just...a bad dream." She honestly told him.
He stifles a yawn and instead lets a worried frown appear on his rested face. "Are you sure?" At her questioning look, he elaborates. "You've been having these 'bad dreams' a lot lately."
Her blue eyes soften at his concern. "I'm fine really." She says reassuringly. His frown doesn't disappear but he reluctantly nods his head as she grips his hand and gives a relieving squeeze.
They slowly slide back under their now cold bed sheets, conversing about the day to come.
This is how she knows that her life is with Seymour Sanders; her fiancé. The concern he often shows, the affection he constantly displays is enough to make any girl swoon over him. They fitted well together, like a missing piece in a puzzle. With Squall, it was never like this. Their bodies never meshed together like hers and Seymour. Theirs instead meshed like two puzzle pieces that clearly didn't go together.
She was surprised out of her thought when Seymour whispers to her. "I'm going to go hop in the shower." He untangles theirs legs and presses a quick kiss to her forehead before he leaves his side of the bed, stretches and disappears into the bathroom.
Quistis snuggles deeper into the king size bed and sighs, inhaling his sweet scent. His scent always had a way of calming her.
Her mind starts to drift away from reality and towards him. She couldn't help but wonder where he had gone. It had been four years since that fateful day. Four years since she has seen him. She scoffed, not that she ever wanted to see his face again; still she wondered where it all went wrong. What exactly was the objective of the mission? What had happened on that mission?
Before she could ponder anymore on the uncomfortable memory, running water was heard and much to her amusement, a pair of boxers floated through the air and onto her blonde head. Seymour pokes his head out from the bathroom, water dripping from his blonde hair onto the laminated floors and he raises an eyebrow.
"You coming?"
She feels a grin creeping its way onto her face. She removes the offending piece of garment off her head before pulling the satin covers off her body and quickly moves toward him.
Her smile falters the tiniest bit, and her pace slows just a tad as the one question that has been haunting her since he left squirms back into her head.
What happened on that mission that got you killed?
-----
Slice A gruesome harmony threw him back into his current dangerous reality. If that wasn't enough, the thick red liquid streaming down his arm and onto his forearm was. Shaking his head back and forth, the brunette tightens his grip on the handle of his gunblade. Proceeding swiftly and with a sense of urgency, he moves towards the threat, a massive piece of intelligent machinery that had been trying to behead, blow up, and crush himself and his party.
As he is easily dismantling the machinery, he wonders since when did the world get so advanced. This week, it was a killing machine, the size of a house. Last week it had been human sized robots blowing up anything in its path.
He dodges just in time as a blade was just about to make him legless. He takes one last swing with his gunblade, pulling the trigger with the intent to finish it off. As he expected the target explodes leaving it a large pile of useless metal. Landing back on his feet, he staggers, and grimaces a little as he feels the deep cut on his bicep taking full on effects.
Taking a calm look around, he notices that the rest of the party had held up on their parts. Sighing, he takes a moment to inspect his wound. As he begins to remove his red tainted jacket, the earth beneath him starts to rumble.
Furrowing his brows, he takes a cautious look behind him. His stomach lurches as he spots a couple dozen killing machines racing their ways towards the steep dirt hill that had become their battlefield.
"Retreat!" He hollered, causing his soldiers to look up at his form at the top of the hill. Even with the status of Commander, he knew from previous missions that it was suicide if they decided to fend off the growing number of enemies.
The remaining soldiers did not have to be told twice. They bolted from their stationary positions, stumbling on their way down the side of the steep hill. He soon followed, cursing under his breath as he frolics over the garbage their enemies had become.
He picks up his pace as the ferry starts proceeding away from the docks. He barely hears his heavy boots trudge along the old wooden boards of the docks, but he does hear the threat destroying the dock with every massive step it takes towards him. Almost there he thought Just a little bit more... He takes a swift look behind him, and his gray orbs widen as the machine locks onto him and attempts to crush him.
He turns his head back forward and while still galloping, closes his eyes, waiting for his life to disintegrate with a crushing blow. But instead of the pain he expects, he hears sudden gunshots. Gunshots that are rapidly firing. He bursts his eyes open just in time to hurdle onto the main deck of the ferry, seemingly escaping death.
Breathing ferociously, he struggles to stand up only to slump back onto the boat's custom built maple wood floor. Clapping his eyes shut he greedily takes oxygen into his constricting lungs.
This was exactly what he felt like when she broke things off. He felt as if he couldn't breathe. Felt as if the world around him was tumbling into oblivion. It was a feeling he absolutely dreaded, especially since he caused it upon himself.
Feeling that he got enough oxygen, and that the world would stop spinning, he raises his eyelids and takes notice of smoke waving through the air and ascending before disappearing from sight. His tired eyes pursue the waves of smoke until they reach a gun; specifically a standard issued Gatling gun.
A frown appears on his dirt smudged face as recollections of her saving him on his SeeD exam resurface.
He dove over the two flights of stairs, knowing that the X-ATM092 was close behind. He scrambled towards the awaiting submarine, desperately picking up his pace as the mechanical spider howls back to life. His legs burnt with every heavy step he took on the bear terrain, as did his lungs, but he kept his pace, silently hoping it would be enough for survival. It gains on him in less than two colossal steps, and right when he spots its shadow over covering the scorching sun, he hopes to hyne that it'll be a swift and painless death. But he catches an array of golden hair and an explosion behind him rings his ears, his feet get soaked from skidding across the water as he scarcely lunges into the open door. He gathers himself and meets his saviour in the cockpit. She simply shrugged and gave a light smile at him before turning her attention to steering them out of the chaos.
He vividly remembered this because it was the beginning of it. He never did thank her, and she never asked to be praised for her deed.
He lays there for awhile, letting the toasty sun beat onto his sprawled out form. A shadow overtakes the sun's rays and he squints up at the person disturbing his apparent suntan.
The cadet looks sheepishly down at him "Commander Leonhart?"
He props his head up slightly to look up at the young kid "Yeah?"
The young cadet looked startled when he hears his voice. He points down to something beside him. Squall squints in confused before the cadet speaks. "You're bleeding." He said bluntly.
The brunette immediately sits up and grimaces when he sees a large pool of crimson red on the ferry's floor trickling down in several streams trailing off the side of the large vessel.
He takes a look under his issued commander uniform and inwardly cringes as the wound on his bicep continued to release more vital fluids.
"You should probably go see the doctor." He stated obviously.
Squall sighs and stands up, feeling a bit drowsy as he makes his way inside the cabin. The brunette gets into a slight jog as he hears an outraged voice asking about the bloody mess.
-----
"Time's up!" Quistis Trepe announces as she stands up at the front of the spacious classroom. "Please come hand in your exams to me and you may leave for an early lunch."
Her senior students cheered, happy to have five extra minutes for feasting. After each student handed their sheets of paper to her, and thanking them, Quistis herself followed suite, leaving for a much deserved lunch.
She brushes off her uniform for any dirt or grim before stepping out of her classroom, and sliding her card key into the slot, successfully locking it. Quistis grins a little at the thought of spending lunch with the 'heroic group' that defeated the evil sorceress, Ultimecia. That's what they were called even after five years had passed since that fateful battle. But since Squall had...left, it was occasional that they were called that. Quistis understood though. Squall had led them into battle and into incomparable victory. If he wasn't there then there wouldn't be a 'heroic group.' Heck, there wouldn't even be a world.
The entire Garden had taken the news badly...especially her...
-----
It had been a month since they had called things off and there she was curled up in her dorm room trying to keep busy with grading papers. She despised him she decided. The very next day of breaking their relationship off, he had left on an A rank mission, smart-wittily keeping his mind on the malignant mission rather than on the horrible events that occurred. While she was here, going over essays for the umpteenth time, trying to keep her mind from reeling.
At night though it was an entirely different story, nothing was there to distract her. Distract her from him. His memories, his face, everything came rushing back to her and she would lie there tossing and turning, willing herself to keep the tears at bay.
By the month and a half mark, the group began to worry, wondering where their beloved commander was.
"He's probably just show boating with that fancy gunblade of his." Zell had answered one day.
They were all seated in the cafeteria, eating their respective lunches, including a dozen hot dogs for Zell.
"Yeah, that's probably it. I knew he was a goof deep down." Selphie tried to confirm it to herself as well to the others.
But no one believed it. Deep down they sensed something wasn't right. But they willed their emotions away, trying to be strong for one another.
By two months, the Garden students began to take notice of the prolonged disappearance of the Commander. Quistis at the time was teaching a class when the Cid made his voice known throughout the military school.
"All students, instructors, SeeDs, and any remaining persons please report to the large auditorium."
She at the time was completely confused; they never had an assembly during times of instructing. Anyhow she led her class to the auditorium as directed and was surprised to see the entire school squeezed into the room. She became anxious as Cid held a solemn look on his face.
"You all are aware of the absence of Commander Leonhart." There were curious whispers in the large crowd of students as well as in the group of adults.
"We are sorry to inform you that we have lost our commander, Squall Leonhart." He said with sadness.
There were many gasps and loud roars of 'what happened' or 'where'd he go?'
Cid, overwhelmed by the reaction of the school, held up a hand signalling the students to stop their outburst.
"We are aware that you are all deeply saddened by this major loss, Squall was-"
There was more, much more, but Quistis tuned everything out. The moment the details of his death were exposed, her heart had also died. Even with how they left things, she would never wish death upon him. She loved him for Hyne's sake! She felt as if her heart was wrenched right out of her chest and thrown on the ground beating furiously in front of her.
She struggled to hold back her tears. She couldn't break down in front of everyone. No one had even known they were together.
She stood numbly at the back of the auditorium, until everyone was dismissed. Classes, exams, everything was cancelled for the day to mourn for the fallen hero. Quistis had mourned longer than anyone, going straight to her dorm room and breaking down. She had kept a strong facade, never shedding a single tear for him since the day he left for the death trap of a mission. But now that she knew she would never see him again, she let her tears of sorrow flow freely.
She didn't leave her room for more than necessary. Although she still left to teach her students, she didn't do anything else. She just wanted to be left alone.
Because that's how she felt. Alone.
-----
"Thinking about me?"
She quickly spins on her heel and sees Seymour flashing his glistening white teeth at her. She laughs giving him a loving peck on the lips.
"Of course." She says stroking his ego.
He grabs a hold of one petite hand, intertwining their fingers before casually walking towards the elevator. "I don't blame you, I would be thinking of me too after this morning." He says slyly, putting on a mock thoughtful face.
Quistis instantly reddens at the heated activities they engaged in, earlier that morning. It had made her late for her first class, and him late for his council meeting, not very professional with her being Head Instructor and him being Commander.
She recovers, giving him a playful smack on his navy blue clad chest. Stepping into the elevator and pushing the correct button that would drop them off in the cafeteria, Quistis furrows her blonde brows when she overhears Cid's voice at the other end of the hallway. He was walking out of the various conference rooms Balamb Garden had, with a hustling Xu beside him.
"Okay Good. Bring him back home." The headmaster says with joy in his voice.
Before she could overhear any more of their particularly intriguing conversation, the elevator doors slide to a close. Bring who home? It must've been someone Cid was close with, explaining the joy in his voice. Before she could ponder anymore on the thought, her surroundings rumble and a slight creak is heard before the thick metal doors slide open.
With their hands still entwined, Seymour leads her to the cafeteria where she spots Zell, Irvine, and Selphie.
"I'll meet you there." Seymour says as he releases their joint hands and makes his way to gather his and Quistis' lunches.
The instructor makes her way pass the crowded cafeteria, stopping a food fight between two boys along the way.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" She hears Zell's voice as she nears their table.
"Bring it on!" Irvine responds, tipping his cowboy hat to the side, and giving him a competitive grin.
She takes a seat beside Zell and turns to look at Selphie sitting in front of her. "What's going on?" She questions, puzzled.
Selphie looks up from the stopwatch in her hand. "Hot dog competition!" She squeals.
Quistis smiles as she looks over at the cowboy and the blonde SeeDs staring each other down, a pile of hotdogs wrapped in buns between them.
She turns her attention to Seymour as he slides a tray of food in front of her, along with himself into the vacant seat beside her. "Thanks hon." she says as she begins to eat.
"Hey Sanders, You want in?" Zell said gesturing towards the large pile of hotdogs
He gave a slight shake of the head, showing he wanted no part in their childish competition.
It was funny she thought. When they first met Seymour, they absolutely loathed the man. It wasn't like he had done any wrongs to them, but when they heard that he was named new SeeD commander, only after a few weeks of Squall disappearance, the group took an understandable disdain with the man.
Gradually with time though, the group began to warm up to him. He proved he deserved the elite position with his superior skills with his spears and his strong leadership qualities over the cadets. By the time the group had fully accepted him, they began to call him by his last name; Sanders due to his insistence. His reasoning was that Seymour made him sound old, which was not obviously the case.
Rinoa makes her presence known as she slides into the empty seat beside Selphie, who was carefully watching the stop watch in her hand.
The dark raven haired girl takes a moment to get comfortable on the hard lunch table before she speaks up.
"You guys wouldn't believe what I heard." She pauses for a second making sure she got everyone's attention.
At their questioning looks, she continues. "I overheard Cid talking about bringing-"
Her sentence is abruptly cut off by loud, choking sounds, and bits of hotdogs flying into her face.
"Zell, you win!" Selphie's voice is directed at the choking young man. "And you broke your old record!"
The other blonde stands up from where's she sitting and hurriedly makes her way behind Zell, giving him several hard smacks on the back.
"You okay?" she asks him. He nods. Satisfied that he was no longer gagging, she sits back down and continues to eat her lunch as if nothing out of the ordinary happened and in this case there wasn't.
It takes a minute, but he groans out audibly. "Did you have to smack me that hard?" he pouts at his former instructor.
She swallows the rest of the food in her mouth before answering. "Next time you won't swallow a dozen hotdogs in two minutes." She shrugs.
"Actually it was a minute and forty-one seconds." Selphie interferes
Quistis rolls her eyes and tunes back to Rinoa as she picks up where she left off.
"What was I going to say before I was so rudely interrupted" She wipes off the rest of the chucks spitted onto her as she stares squarely at Zell, who sheepishly looks away.
"Anyways I overheard Cid saying-"Once again she gets cut off as someone begins to struggle for air.
The group looks over at Zell, who continued his hotdog fest, but at a much calmer rate. They look at each other confused until Irvine begins to thrash around, pounding furiously on his chest.
The group begins to laugh, as Quistis makes her way towards Irvine, an amused smile on her face.
-----
"You're quite lucky, you know." The doctor tells him as she's wrapping his arm tightly with bandages. "A few more minutes and you would have passed out from blood loss."
When Squall doesn't respond, she presses further.
"What were you doing anyways that caused you to ignore this injury?" She looks at him expectantly.
The re-established lone wolf looks up, but once again does not respond.
The doctor sighs, and doesn't press any further. She wondered if he's always been this cold and non-responsive. He's had this bitter demeanour towards anyone and everyone. For the entire four years she's worked with him, he hasn't said anything out of a mission's context. When spoken to about anything non-related, he would give a blank look and no response at all.
She ties a quick knot on the bandage and gives the elite soldier a quick nod, signalling that she was done.
Squall takes the gesture as a sign to leave and he gathers his red tainted jacket and makes a quiet exit. He changes into his regular plain white T-shirt before he drops off his suit to be cleaned.
The brunette runs a hand through his brown locks as he opens the door to his room. Sprawling out on top of the neatly made bed, he flips over, gazing at nothing in particular. He desires to sleep, to take a much needed rest, but he doesn't because sleep never came peacefully to him.
Nowadays Squall doesn't sleep for days at a time. It never occurs to him what causes his insomnia that recently has been plaguing him for the last couple of years. When he does sleep though, from exhaustion of weeks of no sleep and extremely rough missions, he is haunted by a blue eyed blonde. He opts to stay awake then have painful memories of his mistakes visiting him every night.
So as he fights a losing battle, he feels relief run through his worn body, and deteriorating mind when an announcement is heard through the room.
"Commander Leonhart, please report to the main floor conference room."
He makes his way to the small restroom. Attempting to make himself look presentable, he splashes cool water onto his face. As Squall is drying his drenched face, he glances at the reflection in the mirror that is shown.
He wore a deep frown that seemed to exist there since he was born. His chestnut hair, full of dirt and grime had grown over the years. His face looked too much older than he actually was. Around his eyes were puffy, darkened bags, giving the impression that he hadn't had a good night's rest in years. But the man's eyes in the reflection looked nothing like it used to be. Usually a bright greyish blue looked a gloomy, murky gray. It looked almost as if he shouldn't even have had pupils because the eyes staring back at him looked...dead.
The young commander throws the used towel carelessly back into the sink, making a path towards his destination.
He nonchalantly takes a seat at the side of the large conference table, bouncing his leg up and down impatiently. As he begins to lose his last ounce of patience, the large leather clad door opens up.
"Commander Leonhart." President Winston says with a slight grin.
Squall poises upright from his seat and shakes the offered hand. "Mr. President."
He motions for Squall to return to his original sitting position before he himself takes a seat across from him.
"Is there something on your mind, son?" Squall looks away from the clock hanging loosely on the wall and to the white haired man in front of him. At his confused expression, Winston continues, "I got several reports that you were caught daydreaming during battle."
Squall sighs, even when he was on a completely different continent, she seem to always creep into his mind. "No sir." Winston raises his thick white brows at the short answer. "Just...thinking of something at the time. No need worry." He explains hoping that he wouldn't question on the current subject any further.
He studies the young commander's battered form, and his fatigued face. "You're right. I don't have to worry about you going into battles anymore."
Squall arches a brow. "Why's that?"
He gets up from his seat, striding towards a rectangular window panel to take a view at the deep blue that surrounded them. "Because you're going home." He answers, offering him a small smile.
Squall's eyes widen and before he could take a moment to calm down, he panics. "What? Why? I told you it won't happen again, it was a slight mistake." He desperately pleads his case.
President Winston's grin was completely wiped off his face, and a frown took its place. He wonders how bad Balamb Garden can be. He was utterly baffled at the man's reaction to what he thought was good news.
"You're not being sent home because of that Commander." He calmly states. The brunette's face goes from panicked to confuse. Winston clarifies. "You're going home because your job is done here. "
Squall silently sat dumbfounded. "Are you sure?" he asks weakly.
"Yes, I'm sure. You were to be here for up to four years." He explains the SeeD contract that was made too long ago. "And I'm afraid" he continues "that we have to let you go back to your own life."
Squall Leonhart didn't know whether to be ecstatic or fearful. Ecstatic that he could finally have a place to call home, friends to see after a lengthy departure and as much as he liked being on missions, four years was enough to keep him at bay. Fearful because he wouldn't know how they would react to him actually being alive. The mission was too substantial that any details about his whereabouts could expose and possibly put President Winston in danger, therefore his death had to be plotted to ward off any threatening enemies. But then again...he was petrified that he would be seeing her again.
A pair of wrinkled fingers snapping together shook him out of his thoughts. Squall glances at the man he's been protecting for the last four years.
"You should probably pack your things up; we'll drop you off at Balamb on our back." He insists.
Squall nods, but stays stationary on his seat.
Winston takes a look at the man. He looked depressed, almost like he didn't want to go back. "It doesn't look like you're happy about this." He proclaims boldly.
Squall gazes up with a faraway look in his eyes, trying to force a weak smile, and any signs of happiness on his face as he shakes his head.
You have no idea.
How was it? Should I continue it?
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