LOST IN TIME
By: Ethereal Fury
Disclaimer:
Since I always make weird disclaimers, I'll go for a normal one this time. Final Fantasy 8, all its characters, and any reference hereon to it is the property of Squaresoft. I am not making any money on this fiction; it is merely for fun. No copyright infringement is intended, so if I have, please don't sue me cause I really don't know copyright laws.A/N:
Hehehe… I'm BACK **watches people dash to the BACK button** No! Don't run away… this is a nice fic, I promise *evil cackle* … or maybe not. This is the product of too much TV, attempting to study for a US History test on World War I, and researching chemistry activity series (and yes, undoubtedly a bit of Coca Cola… what the heck do they put in there anyway?!). Anyhow, I saw this thing on TV about the 60's and hippies and my evil twisted mind began coming up with a plan to put our favorite heroes in that era. Can you imagine Squall with long hair and going 'Groovy' or 'Far out' ? *dissolves in giggles at the mere thought*. Anyway, point being… this takes place straight after the defeat of Ultimecia, when Squall is walking along the lovely time-compressed desert. Began as a somewhat normal fic… turned weird… couldn't help but add a bit of a Squinoa moment… ended sorta normal. R/R. Thanx.=====================================================
Chapter 1 : The 60's
Endless. Barren. The vast cracked desert extended to infinity, bleak and bare as far as the eye could see, suspended in oblivion. Upon it, a lone dark-haired figure walked endlessly. Searching for a route of escape. The figure looked into the thick gray fog surrounding his dreary prison, confining him to nothingness. Courage. Friendship. Love. These three words were supposed to take him back to his time. The battle was over; Ultimecia, Queen of the Time Portal, defeated, her plan for world domination thwarted. Past, present, and future were to remain separate, unharmed by her evils; and he had to return to his friends, to his love, to his life. Why can't I find them? he thought in desperation, forcing his aching limbs to take another step. And another. And another. He arrived at the edge of his dungeon and peered down— straight into abysmal nothingness. Discouraged and exhausted, the figure collapsed on the cold time-compressed ground, unmoving.
Squall awoke with a start, blue eyes narrowing and scanning the room for any signs of threat. Confirming here were none, he relaxed against the pillow, looking around the room more calmly. He was in the Infirmary; the bed he was in and the bright lights hurting his eyes told him so much. But it looked different; far more cheerful. Whatever he thought, dismissing the idea. He heard bustling in the next room and tuned his keen ears to the sound. Soon, he could distinctly hear the soft pitter-patter of feet hitting linoleum, heading for his room. In walked Dr. Kadowaki, her usually severely-pinned-up hair flowing wavy and unbound past her shoulders. He normally-meticulous white doctor's coat discarded, a long skirt to her ankles and flowered shirt in its place. Squall noticed she wasn't wearing any shoes.
"You feeling better, flower-child?" she asked, examining him.
Squall could only nod, wondering what had prompted the doctor's radical image change. He shrugged the thought off as Kadowaki informed him that he could leave and proceeded to sit on the floor, legs crossed and arms resting upon them and humming a strange mantra.
"Far out," Squall murmured, shaking his head and stepping into Kadowaki's office, now vibrantly decorated in bright colors and flowers. He stopped dead in his tracks when a thought hit him. Did I just say 'far out'? he questioned. He shook his head again, walking out of the Infirmary and into the busy halls of Garden, A low growl from his stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten since before the Ultimecia incident. Not having to go to class for another hour or so (yes, he's a SeeD but he's still an undergraduate at Garden and has to go to class), he headed for the cafeteria, ignoring those who noticed his presence and held up their hands in the 'peace' gesture. Walking down the hall, his thick boots thudding on the floor, he studied his surroundings warily. He noticed the students weren't wearing uniforms, most sporting robe-like clothes or flared pants with flowery prints and bare feet. He decided to discuss the lax rules on uniform with the headmaster. Stepping into the Cafeteria, he was greeted by a most unusual sight. About 50 of Garden's students were sitting on the floor, arms and legs crossed. At the head of the demonstration was Zell, blond hair not in its usual spiky quiff and instead brushed in a crew cut resembling that of the Beatles. The most unusual thing, however, was that he was not stuffing himself with hotdogs and disgusting the rest of the cafeteria with his eating antics. Squall carefully picked his way among the sitting protesters and reached Zell.
"Zell, what are you doing?" he asked in disbelief.
Zell grinned up at him and stated matter-of-factly, "We're having a sit-in."
"For?" Squall further pursued.
"The cafeteria doesn't serve vegetarian food!" a girl beside Zell piped up.
Zell nodded emphatically. "That's right. We want them to serve more vegetables and tofu and remove the hotdogs."
Squall brought a hand to his forehead. "But Zell, you love hotdogs."
Zell looked horrified, eyes widening in wonder. "Me? Kill a fellow inhabitant of the planet for food? No way. We have to save the planet. Save the planet! Vegetarian food! Save the planet! Vegetarian food!"
"Save the planet! Vegetarian food! Save the planet! Vegetarian food!" the crowd joined in, chanting, fists in the air for emphasis.
Squall decided this was too much for him; perhaps he had a concussion and was delusional. He turned on his heel and walked out of the cafeteria towards the lift, cries of 'Save the planet! Vegetarian food!' still ringing in his ears. I never thought I'd see the day when Zell would turn down hotdogs. And what's with the hair? He mused, stepping out of the elevator and into the 2/F hallway. His class didn't start for another 45 minutes, but he w as hoping for some normalcy after the intimidating cafeteria incident. He walked into the classroom and down the back to his usual seat, with the intention of powering up his study panel to review battle skills for the test Instructor Aki (who had taken over Quistis' classes after she had been removed from her position as Instructor) had promised them for after the whole Ultimecia crisis. Great, I save the world and I still have to take a stupid battle-skills test he thought, sitting at his desk. Instead of finding his wireless online unit, he found a thick encyclopedia and a writing pad and a pencil. "What the… groovy!" he muttered. As what he'd said registered, he inhaled sharply and looked around. Good, no one had heard him. He shook his head—he had to stop talking like that—and busied himself with the encyclopedia until a rough hand fell on his shoulder. Squall's hand automatically went to the hilt of his gunblade. Correction—where his gunblade SHOULD have been. It was nowhere to be found. He looked up, stormy blue eyes meeting a familiar pair of ice blue. Seifer he seethed, anger boiling in his blood.
"Peace and love Puberty Boy," Seifer said, sitting down next to Squall and propping his feet up on the table.
Squall forgot all about his anger as he turned to look at his rival. Seifer's short, cropped blond hair now fell freely in waves to his shoulders; his trademark gray trench coat gone and in its place a Native Indian-like robe that reached his ankles, Hyperion not propped up against his shoulder as was usual. Before Squall could question why Seifer was being friendly and why he'd grown his hair, the door to the classroom opened and in walked Quistis, not Instructor Aki, clad in patterned jeans, a tie-dyed T-shirt, and a beaded headband holding back her loose golden locks.
"What's Quisty doing here? Her Instructor license was revoked. Where's Instructor Aki?" Squall muttered.
The girl in fromt of him and Seifer whirled around, "It's Instructor Trepe to you, you male chauvinistic pig! Just because you think only men can teach doesn't mean women can't!" she exclaimed, slapping Squall soundly across the face.
"What the…?" he began, rubbing his cheek.
"You'd think that after all we've done for you men, society would give us equal rights," the girl interrupted. "Well it doesn't. It's about time us women did something. We deserve to be treated as equals! I know, let's go burn our bras in protest!" she continued, inciting the interest of most of the other female students, who marched out of the class defiantly, bras in hand.
"What's with them?" Squall asked, still nursing his bruised cheek.
"Feminists," Seifer replied, as if that word explained everything.
Squall nodded silently, watching Quistis make her way to her desk and sit upon it. She reached behind her desk and pulled out a guitar. "Okay class, what should we sing?" she inquired.
Squall slowly raised his hand. "Isn't this a class on the different techniques of battle?" he queried.
Quistis shook her head and rested the guitar on her legs. "This is a class on life. No book can prepare you for it," and with that picked up her guitar again.
Once again, Squall's hand caressed the air hesitantly. "What about the test we were supposed to have then?"
Quistis sighed. "Squall, a test only tests you on what you have been told; the cold facts written in a book. Life is the real test, the real challenge. Questions on history or battle techniques are not going to show up. This class prepares you for that challenge."
After Squall's unsure nod, Quistis repeated her question about which song should be sung. Someone called out 'Cumbaya' (or however you spell that) and so she began playing. The remaining students (as most females had stormed off to join the bra-burning protest) left their seats and sat on the floor around Quistis, singing merrily. Much to Squall's dismay, even his hardened rival Seifer was on the floor singing. He, however, remained in his seat with his mouth shut. Once the song was over, Quistis placed the guitar back behind her desk and turned to her class.
"Class dismissed. And remember children, peace and love," she announced, holding up her hand in the sign of 'peace'.
As the students returned the gesture, Squall rose from his heat and hurried out the door, deep in thought. Something weird is definitely going on. Quistis looked… stoned today. And what's with all that crap about life being a challenge and Battle-Techniques class being a Life class? Well, at least we didn't have any actual class or homework. By the time he had finished that thought, Squall was standing at the door of his quarters. He frantically searched his pockets for the card-key to his room but found only a heavy iron key. Looking closely at the door, he noticed that the keyhole was a traditional one and not the electronic lock he was used to. Fumbling with the key in the lock, he finally managed to stumble into his room. It looked pretty much the same, gunblade case and all, but his bedspread was flowery and a poster of the Beatles (with haircuts much like Zell's) hung on his wall. In the corner, a banner sporting the slogan 'Flower Power. Peace and Love' dangled, which he immediately tore down. As he walked into the bathroom, his eyes fell upon his reflection in the mirror and he did a double take. Was he seeing right? He walked closer to the mirror and brought a hand to his forehead. He WAS seeing right. His jagged brown locks were now evenly cut and straight, reaching past his chin; a bandana adorning his head like a crown. His furry black leather jacket and pants were replaced by a brown tunic-like thing that to him looked like a dress. Brown pants, slightly flared at the bottom, could be seen beyond the hem of the tunic. The only things that remained of his usual attire were his black combat boots and his silver ear stud. Even his Griever chain had been replaced by a beaded necklace.
I look like a walking fashion disaster he thought sadly, rummaging hopefully through his closet in search of a change of clothes. No such luck; his wardrobe consisted solely on similar outfits. He opened his gunblade case in hopes of finding Lionheart, but instead of his glimmering blue gunblade, he found a guitar much like Quistis'. This was all too weird for his taste. I gotta go talk to Headmaster Cid. Maybe he'll give me some answers he thought, grabbing his key and walking out of the room. Squall reached Cid's office and found him at his desk, glancing at a pile of papers, a cigarette in a nearby ashtray.
"Sir," Squall began, SeeD-saluting him.
Cid stood and Squall nearly fainted. Cid's balding brown hair, thin and lacking towards the front, was tied up in a ponytail that fell halfway down his back and rivaled Irvine's. He was dressed in a polka-dotted shirt and flowered pants and was wearing no shoes. "Yes Squall?" he asked, picking up the cigarette from the ashtray.
"Umm… Sir, I have to report on the Second Sorceress War, sir." Squall said uncertainly.
Cid took a step back. "Did you say war?"
Squall nodded. "Yes sir."
"We must stop the war! Peace is the only way to go! Peace and love will solve the world's problems!" he exclaimed, switching on the intercom. "Attention students. I have just been informed that we are at war. We must do everything we can to stop it and resolve the conflict peacefully. SeeD's true mission has begun. No more war! No more war!"
Chants of 'no more war! No more war! No more war!' were heard as students took to the ballroom to stage a peaceful protest.
"Uh… Sir, the war is over. We defeated the evil sorceress Ultimecia… and I thought Garden trained mercenaries… SeeDs," Squall commented gingerly.
Cid shook his head. "My dear child, Garden trains SeeDs, inspirational leaders that will hopefully mature into FloweRs (got the idea for the name from another fic, I think it was by Unoriginality), meditating gurus that will help in reaching Nirvana and solve all problems without violence. We are the center of a revolutionary new movement that believes in freedom and achievement through peaceful demonstration instead of violence. Those accepted into Garden should be thankful for this opportunity to give the world peace and love and keep the sun shining," he explained.
Squall shot him a queer look. "Sir, have you been smoking too much pot?" he inquired. Cid did look a bit stoned… no, he looked stoned to the bone.
Cid waved a hand in dismissal; "Dismissed Squall. Go join the protest in the ballroom."
Squall saluted again and watched as Cid raised the cigarette to his lips and took a long drag from it. It looked homemade and smelled sweet… yep, it was definitely marijuana.
Walking briskly out of Cid's office, he bumped into Irvine and Selphie. Squall looked curiously at Selphie— she seemed normal; the same flipped-up brown hair, same knee-length combat boots… and the same yellow flowery dress. No wait, the dress now reached her knees instead of its usual mid-thigh. Selphie in a decent dress. Now that's a first he thought sarcastically, turning to study Irvine. Irvy was wearing a purple flowered shirt and dark brown flared pants. His chestnut hair was in a ponytail resembling the usual one but his cowboy hat was gone and he was sporting a small beard. So this is where they got their fashion sense Squall snickered inwardly.
"But Selphie, come on you don't need to graduate! What do you need an education for? I have our future all planned out for us. Once I graduate, we will load all our belongings into the trunk of my brand new Chevy and we'll travel all over the continent. And you'll be my lady and bear my kids… and maybe one day we'll even get married…" Squall heard Irvine say.
"Okay Irvy. Now it's alright to share a bed without marriage. And we can name our kids Liberty, and Freedom, and Sunshine, and Twilight… and we'll be able to see the world and teach or kids the ways of peace!" Selphie replied.
Squall was officially freaked out. First Zell leading an anti-hotdog demonstration and sporting a crew cut. Then Seifer being friendly and having long unkempt hair. Quistis looking stoned and singing songs in class. Cid behaving like he'd just been let out of the mental institute. And now spunky Selphie in a decent dress and agreeing to give up everything to have kids?! Flirtatious Irvine wanting to settle down with one woman?! A Chevy that did a maximum of 40 miles per hour?! What age were these people living in—the prehistoric era? These thoughts plagued Squall as he continued down the corridor and into the ballroom where the peaceful sit-in demonstration against a nonexistent war was being held. Wearily, he pushed the doors to the ballroom open and that's when his eyes fell upon her, standing in all her glory underneath the night sky and delivering passionate speeches of peace to the expectant crowd. His Angel, her raven black hair falling gracefully past her shoulders, clad in a blue tie-dyed T-shirt and long skirt, walking barefoot betwixt the crowd, white flowers adorning her midnight hair, A true flower child. Totally awesome… far out he thought, captivated by her graceful movements. He stayed by the doors, hidden in shadows, as the protest eventually broke up and people brought out guitars and lit campfires (yes, INSIDE the ballroom… it's my fic and they'll do as I please… okay, it was an outdoor ballroom, jeez) and produced drinks and bags of marijuana which they proceeded to smoke in between verses of 'Cumbaya' and other pro-peace songs. After a while, the atmosphere was thick with the sweet smell of marijuana. Squall checked his watch—it read 3:00 AM. About time I went to bed he mused, yawning and walking out of the ballroom with one last backward glance at Rinoa. As he reached his dorm and took one last look at his reflection in the mirror, he drifted off to sleep with one single thought:
Please let me be out of here and back where I belong when I wake up.
THE END
A/N 2 :
Hahaha… so there's the first chapter of the fic (and maybe last… no one knows)… I know, I know, it's lame but World War I doesn't exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy. So why was I writing instead of studying? Well, one can only read so many times about how the territorial, imperialistic, nationalistic, and military rivalries of the European countries before 1914 turned Europe into a powder keg and how the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne finally sparked off the bloodiest European war to date at that time. Okay, to be simple—I needed a friggin break. And the Beach Boys' 'Surfin USA' was playing on the radio so the 60's came to mind. Keep in mind I was born smack in the middle of the 80's and so anything about the hippie age is made up/ gotten from TV and blown totally out of proportion. I also know the characters are OOC, but hey, how would you feel if you just kicked the ultimate evil's sorry hide and were trudging along nothingness and suddenly you woke up in a decade far before your time? If that doesn't put you out of character, I dunno what will. Anyhow, enough crap… read and review please; praise me, flame me (I'm still waitin for my first flame!), bitch at me… anything, even if it's bad, is better than no comment at all. I still got lots of decades to go through, so I can write chapter 2 if someone actually reads this. Hehehe… imagine Squally boy with flared pants, an afro, platform shoes, and dancing disco?? **howls with laughter** Oooh… I feel inspired now! Enough reviews will probably earn you guys the chance to see Squall and co. clad in the aforementioned clothes. Thanks for your time to R/R---Ethereal Fury