5

CHAPTER 5 – WALTZ BENEATH THE STARS

"At ease," Xu commanded from the head of the assembly, taking her place to the right-hand side of the hall.

Squall snapped out of his salute in unison with the sixty-two other newly appointed SeeDs assembled alphabetically in the Headmaster's office, and placed his hands behind his back as instructed. The man himself and his two Thorn advisers stood before them upon a raised platform, atop which sat an ebony and gold throne flanked by twin navy blue banners bearing the crest of SeeD. An immense glass window rising to the tall domed ceiling spanned the entire southern wall to the rear of the throne, offering an unmatched view of the Alcaud Plains beyond. The towering walls to either side were decorated by more accolades and plaques than Squall could count, each a testament to the already storied history SeeD had accrued, and one that he had by some miracle been deemed worthy of becoming a part of. Scanning his eyes across the multi-tiered congregation, he quickly picked out Zell's spiked blonde hair toward the front, and after a moment caught sight of Selphie's signature light brown hairdo curled upward on either side of her head further down his own row.

As the commandant had informed him, it had been a full three days since the conclusion of the field exam. What time he had not spent eating in the cafeteria or taking a stroll of the campus grounds to clear his mind was spent in his room, recuperating from the savagely tiring day of combat. He had no desire to so much as touch his gunblade for the time being, much less partake in his usual daily training routine, and could imagine most every other participant likely shared his sentiments. It had been an exhaustive ordeal for them all, and not every cadet had left the battlefield unscathed.

From what he had gathered from the weekly student newsletter, of the initial 225 participants, just under thirty had required medical attention in some capacity upon their return. In addition, a total of five cadets had regrettably lost their lives in the line of duty, as well as two of the one-hundred accompanying SeeD operatives. While such paltry statistics were all but negligible by comparison to the casualty figures sustained by both the Galbadian and Dollet forces, the fallen heroes had no doubt been life-long friends to many in the Garden. Never in the years since SeeD's establishment had the field exam concluded without a single fatality, leaving the headmaster and faculty to fulfill their annual obligation of sending word to the families of the deceased, as well as express invitations for the memorial service to be held in their honor the following week.

"First and foremost," the headmaster began formally. "I wish to congratulate you all on a job well done. You have performed admirably, and by standing here today have officially earned a place among the ranks of SeeD. Your respective uniforms will be delivered to your dormitories later this afternoon before the inauguration ball. I sincerely hope you will all be attending. You are the esteemed guests of honor, after all."

Squall had no intention of turning up to the ball if he could avoid it; the very nature of social gatherings of any variant ran completely counter to his own, providing little more than another unwelcome nuisance in his life. He had never understood what exactly it was that the rest of the student body sought to gain out of such events, and hence he had to date never attended the annual homecoming ball open to the Garden's general populace.

"However," Cid continued. "Even as we celebrate your induction, do not forget that with this title comes far greater responsibility than you have faced thus far. From now on, you will be dispatched on assignments all across the globe as representatives of this Garden, and will be expected to handle such missions with the utmost skill and professionalism. You are among the finest combat specialists at our disposal, members of Balamb's elite mercenary army…"

A brief pause hung in the air, as the Headmaster appeared to stall in his speech for a moment. A look of contemplation and uncertainty flashed across his kindly, wrinkled face before he proceeded.

"But, that is merely one aspect of what SeeD truly is. And I only tell you this now to prepare you for a day that I know is fast approaching. When the time comes-"

"Headmaster," one of the Thorns interjected, just as Squall had overheard three nights earlier. "It is almost time for the meeting. Let us please make this short."

The robed figure stepped forward in front of the headmaster, raised his arms before him, and proceeded to speak in his stead.

"SeeD is a valuable asset to Balamb Garden. Its reputation is solely dependent on each one of you. Handle your respective missions with care."

Stunned silence descended upon the hall, each and every assembled graduate remaining perfectly mum as the adviser swiftly about-faced to address Cid once more.

"Is that what you wanted to say, sir?"

Squall was left utterly flabbergasted at the nonchalant manner in which the aide had just upstaged the headmaster. In all his years as a cadet, he had never before witnessed such brazen disrespect be shown to the very head of Balamb Garden himself. As he anxiously shifted his eyes in each direction, it quickly became evident that it was not only he who had been caught off guard, as several murmurs of confusion began to arise among the surrounding wide-eyed students. All the while, Cid remained standing still upon the raised platform in apparent deference, his head bowed in a conciliatory show of submission, with not a single word of protest.

"We will now present you with your SeeD rank reports," the obstinate Thorn spoke again, motioning to Xu with a single wave of his robed appendage. At his command, the commandant lifted a waiting stack of papers from a nearby table, and descended the steps to begin distributing the evaluation forms.

Just who's really the one in charge here?

Xu swiftly made her way through the crowd, bestowing each newly christened SeeD a stapled dossier in turn. Silence once again enveloped the hall, as the first of the young soldiers began to feverishly pore over their standings. While each had attained SeeDship, their respective starting ranks and resultant bi-weekly salary would vary drastically in relation to their final scores. Squall had been previously informed that on the established scale of one to thirty, the highest ranking a new graduate could expect to be awarded provided they had received a superb evaluation was in the seven-to-eight region. There had indeed been exceptional cases in years past, such as Quistis who had been presented with a staggering Rank 13 upon her graduation, which had naturally dovetailed into her promotion to instructor within a matter of months. While he took Xu at her word that his score would not be negatively impacted by their desertion, given his own recollection of events he could not imagine it reaching higher than a five. At the very least, it would certainly be lower than Selphie's rank, and perhaps even Zell's when considering Quistis' praise of his observed spellcraft in the Aurora Square. After several more moments of dismal contemplation, Xu finally stepped in front of him, and whipped his report off the top of the stack to hold it before him.

"You have Tilmitt to thank for this score," she quietly noted as he took it from her hand.

"Excuse…?" he started, but cut himself off as she moved to the graduate beside him without a pause.

His heart began to pound in his chest as he anxiously flipped through the sheets, perturbed as to what the comment could possibly have implied. Could Selphie have inadvertently let slip something that had jeopardized his standing? He turned to the final page, his eyes reaching the bottom and coming to a rest on the final score printed in significantly larger font beside the headmaster's stamped seal: 'SeeD Rank: 10'.

This has got to be a mistake, he instantly thought, flipping the report back to the front to ensure it was indeed his name printed on the cover sheet. Surely enough, it bore the unmistakable label of 'Leonhart, Squall'.

His eyes remained widened in amazement, as his mind struggled to process the absurdity of the results. Against all odds, he had somehow achieved the nigh impossible to attain a double-digit SeeD ranking on the field exam, despite having effectively aided and abetted treason. He reopened the file to peruse the pages once more, attempting to make sense of the logical incongruity. His eyes rapidly skimmed over the array of numerical figures and statistics, coming to a hand-written summary on the second-to-last page:

Leonhart has proven himself an inimitable close-quarters combatant, in addition to being among the very few cadets to have displayed such expertise with gunblade-class weaponry. His professional demeanor and workmanlike attitude is that of the model soldier, and his astuteness has been noted by squad adviser Trepe upon securing the designated area. Of most important note however is Leonhart's observed inclination toward a role of leadership, effectively stepping up to command his squad in lieu of the de-facto captain's dereliction, and his refusal to leave behind an incapacitated comrade in the face of almost certain death.

Squall promptly performed a double-take to ensure he was not hallucinating the very script printed upon the paper.

'Inclination toward a role of leadership'!?

The thought was so far removed from reality that it boggled the mind. He could not begin to fathom that the administration could have taken whatever testimony Selphie had told them at face-value. He was no leader, and to be now held to such a standard was far more than he could accept.

"And with that," the headmaster snapped him back to his immediate surroundings. "The SeeD inauguration is concluded. You are all dismissed."

The large assembly of new SeeDs saluted once more, before turning and slowly beginning to trickle toward the large double doors at the rear end of the hall. The murmuring din arose again as the headmaster ducked into the adjoining side door to his private chambers, followed by his two aides. The room's occupancy dwindled steadily, Zell and Selphie eventually strolling up to him sporting a pair of radiant smiles.

"We did it, man!" Zell exclaimed in triumph as the three began making their way to the doors.

"Somehow," Squall muttered in irritation at his persistent enthusiasm.

"I ended up getting Rank 8!" Selphie beamed. "My report says they appreciated the guts I had to follow you guys all the way up the mountain."

"I got a seven," Zell half-moaned. "I got points docked for bickering with Seifer on the way there. Even after all that's happened, they're still calling it antagonizing a superior."

"You should be grateful we made it at all," Squall bluntly reminded him as they reached the elevator and stepped aboard.

"I know," he replied, pressing the button for the main floor. "It just kinda ticks me off that it's all down to him in the end that I lost points. But hey, what did you get?"

"See for yourself," Squall flippantly passed his report to him as the capsule doors slid shut, and the lift began to descend. Zell accepted the file and turned to the last page quickly, his eyes widening and jaw hanging open as he took note of the score.

"Ten!?" he gasped in disbelief. "How's that work!?"

"Oh, congratulations, Squall!" Selphie cheered. "I made sure to put in a good word for both of you, and I'm really happy it payed off!"

"What did you tell them, exactly?"

"Nothing that wasn't true," she insisted. "You both really did your best out there, and you saved my life. I didn't get a chance to thank you before… so, thanks!"

Squall had no idea what to think. It was true that he could not have lived with himself had he simply left Selphie to die; ditzy and overly-excitable as she was, two personality traits he possessed little tolerance for, he knew that to be one thing he could not bear to have hanging on his conscious for the rest of his life. One noble deed did not a competent leader make, however. It was a level of responsibility he realized he could never hope to live up to, and one that directly opposed his own code of ethics.

"It's nothing," he replied as the lift slowed to the bottom and the glass doors parted.

The only person worth looking out for is yourself, he silently affirmed as he stepped out of the elevator with his eyes absentmindedly trained to the floor. 'Inclination toward leadership' my-

His train of thought was suddenly derailed as his way was obstructed by a pair of black boots and familiar grey coattails, the very same he had laid eyes on just before having his still-fresh scar cleaved into his features three days earlier. Raising his gaze, he met the emotionless face of the man who bore its twin, Fujin and Raijin standing to his rear on either side. To his own right, Squall heard the squeak of Zell's sneakers as he shifted his footing on the polished linoleum floor, preparing for an impending confrontation. All was quiet, save for the footsteps and faint muttering of students on the outer ring of the atrium and the trickling water from the nearby fountains. Seifer continued to stare blankly between the three for an uncomfortably long time, before a pursed smile finally overtook his lips. Not a derisive smirk as Squall had become accustomed to, but a genuine look of approval. And then he began to slowly clap before them, his two lackeys joining in after a moment's hesitation.

Is he mocking us?

"Congratulations!" he declared, ceasing the light applause and extending his hand. "You made the cut. Looks like you've got what it takes to go the distance, after all."

"Who are you?" Squall reacted incredulously, still unable to determine if it were indeed sarcasm. The alternative was so out of character that it should not have even registered as a possibility.

"Oh, come on!" he feigned disappointment. "Credit where it's due, and all. Don't leave me hangin' here!"

"He's bein' serious, y'know?" Raijin insisted from behind him. "Jus' shake his hand, already!"

"Truce!" Fujin blurted out.

Squall glanced to Zell by his side, his left eye between the tattooed tendrils on his face raised in skepticism at their disgraced captain's strange behavior. He too appeared utterly perplexed, but met Squall's questioning look with a shrug. Reluctantly, he turned back to his rival and extended his own hand in return, the two firmly shaking without incident. That there came no attempt to pull him into a headlock as he would have suspected was the biggest surprise of all.

"Why're you so cheery?" Zell asked as their handshake broke. "I figured you'd be pissed for weeks, at least."

"It does kinda suck," he admitted. "They're doubling my training regiment, and making me do community service all around here. Grounds-keeping, helping with the Garden Festival, they're even putting me on the catering staff for tonight. But I'm not gonna let this set me back. I've still got one more shot next year, and I'm gonna make it count!"

"Resolve!" Fujin quipped again.

"That's the spirit!" Selphie cheered, her hands clasped before her chest in excitement. "And I'm on the festival planning committee! I'll be sure to help you get settled in!"

"I'd appreciate that," he smiled in return, a more unnerving reaction than any fit of rage Squall had ever witnessed from him.

The strikingly unusual change of attitude in his rival left him at a complete loss for words; this surely could not be the same Seifer he had known for so many years. There had to be some manner of ulterior rationale behind his calm and collected demeanor, which only served to unsettle Squall ever more as he passively observed the scene playing out before him.

"So, Squall," Seifer addressed him. "You heading to the ball tonight?"

"… sorry," he responded after a moment to recollect his thoughts. "Not my thing."

"You serious!?" Zell reeled. "It's the biggest day of your life, and you're just not going to show up?"

"Yeah, what gives?" Selphie insisted. "It's gonna be real swanky from what I hear! Live music, dancing, a full banquet with an open bar, and who knows?"

She slyly leaned in towards him and playfully elbowed his right arm.

"Maybe we can help score you a hot date while we're at it."

Squall's curiosity was suddenly piqued at her words.

"Did you say 'open bar'?"


The starry night sky glimmered and sparkled through the glass-domed ceiling of the ballroom, with not a cloud in sight to obstruct its beauty. Below, SeeDs newly inducted and long tenured alike milled about the festivities with their dates. Many danced in the open circular expanse in the center, elegantly and romantically swaying with one another to the tune of the Balamb Garden chamber orchestra on the stage. Others chatted by the banquet tables and fully stocked bar situated to the side, or retreated to the numerous balconies lining the outer rim of the hall in search of a more secluded and intimate environment. All was merry and jovial, the celebratory atmosphere a stark contrast from the battlefield many had faced mere days ago.

Squall propped himself up against one of the many golden archways, clad in his brand new black and gold-rimmed formal wear as he observed the gaiety dispassionately. His precise measurements had been provided to the Garden faculty ahead of the field exam, so as to allow the tailoring staff ample time to fashion a uniform designed to suit his physique. Having examined himself in his bedroom mirror upon receiving it earlier that afternoon, he could confirm that the attire indeed cut an exceptionally sleek figure on him, from the lightly ornamented shoulder imprints down to the solid black boots. A bubbling glass of champagne occupied his right hand, rising to his lips at regular intervals like clockwork. It was his second of the night thus far, and he could imagine at least several more re-fills would be on the way soon enough. Though the legal drinking age was technically eighteen, none of the catering staff could be bothered to check student IDs on such an occasion, with most of the other faculty present seeming to acknowledge it was not a night to be hung up by such minutiae. It was far from Squall's first experience with alcohol, and though he was not a heavy drinker by any metric, he knew it would take much more than a measly two glasses to attain his desired level of inebriation.

The night had begun well enough, the SeeDs having assembled in uniform alongside their accompanying partners to the beginning strains of the orchestra. Each attendee was permitted to bring along a date for the occasion, SeeD or non. The then-cadets had no doubt asked their prospective companions weeks in advance, a provisional invitation on the grounds that they indeed graduated. They had been required to forward the information to their respective instructor prior to the exam as a precaution, so that in the event the candidate in question did not pass, their date would still be permitted to attend by themselves if so inclined with proof of their identity. There had been yet another congratulatory speech from the headmaster to begin the proceedings, as well as a few brief words from the mayor of Balamb who had been known to traditionally attend with his wife each year. Both had garnered a tremendous ovation from all, followed by a toast to the new graduates before the ball proper at last commenced.

It was not petty jealousy of the merrily dancing couples that had relegated Squall to the sidelines, but inadequacy, an unshakable feeling that he had no business to be standing in the midst of such jubilation. He had finally achieved his long standing goal of becoming a SeeD, and received higher marks than he could have ever expected. The title he had trained so hard for had been bestowed upon him, and yet when considering the dubious surrounding circumstances, he could not bring himself to believe he had properly earned it. He felt hollow, disconcerted that the moment he had built up in his mind for so long had finally arrived, only to leave him so disillusioned and questioning of his own worthiness. Worse still, Squall could not keep his restless mind from reflecting upon Seifer's talk of chasing his dream, and how with his own solitary ambition now fulfilled, he was left with nothing more to aspire towards. What would come next? Where would he go with his life now? What purpose did he have left to give his very existence meaning?

Maybe if I drink enough I'll stop caring altogether…

He took another swig of champagne, savoring the bubbly flavor as it trickled down his throat, and raised his eyes skyward. It was indeed a beautiful night, the stars and moon lighting up the void beyond the spotless glass dome above, rendered ever more prominent by the lingering glow of the Garden's giant flotation ring rimming the outer edges. A strange semblance of nostalgia washed over him, as if the sheer serenity had reached out to him and touched upon a long forgotten remnant of his psyche. The hairs on his sleeved arms stood to attention as he could almost feel a peaceful breeze sweep across his body, bringing to mind the sound of crashing waves and the scent of saltwater for reasons he could not understand. He had certainly not had the time to admire such nuances on the shores of either Balamb or Dollet as of late.

He was snapped back to reality as a shooting star passed right before his eyes, arcing across the expanse and dipping down as if to land in the center of the ballroom itself. He traced the twinkling swathe it had cut across the sky, his vision falling back to the dance floor ahead where oblivious couples continued to elegantly waltz with one another. Staring upward in the midst of the fluidly swaying dancers, slightly outside of the center stood a young woman with flowing dark hair, clad in a white halter dress. She appeared to be somewhere around his own age, though her lack of a uniform implied she was not a SeeD of any distinction. She lowered her gaze slowly, turning her head to look about before eventually coming to a rest on Squall, who met her deep brown eyes. She flashed him a smile and brought a single finger pointed upward before her.

'You saw it, too?' she seemed to be gesturing.

Squall quickly averted his eyes from hers; he was in no mood to socialize in his presently conflicted state of mind. Coming to the understanding that he was wasting his time attempting to drink his worries away, he considered if it might be a more prudent use of the night to return to his dorm and begin organizing his belongings for re-location. In addition to his promotion, he would be receiving his own individual living quarters sometime in the next week, for which he would need to be fully packed up for the moving staff's arrival. He extended his arm outward to set his half-finished drink down on the nearby pedestal and take his leave, when the approaching sound of clacking heels halted him in mid-motion. He turned his eyes back to the dance floor to see the smiling young woman had begun making her way over to him. As she drew near, he took note of the six caramel-colored highlights running through her black hair, three on either side of her rounded face.

"You know," she started in a sweet, slightly seductive tone. "I think you might be the best looking guy here."

"If you say so," he casually brushed her off, taking another swig of his drink. He had assumed his new scar alone would have been an effective deterrent from any potential unwanted advances. It appeared there could be no accounting for differing tastes, however.

"What do you say to a dance?" she offered her hand.

You must be kidding.

"Not interested," he bluntly replied, taking another sip on reflex.

"Aw, why not?" she pouted. "It's just one dance. You've been standing over here by yourself the whole time. Don't you want to loosen up a bit? Or… are you one of those types who'll only dance with someone he likes?"

"Sure, let's go with that," he muttered, swigging back yet more champagne to calm the growing irritation.

"Alright, then," she puffed, stepping even further forward into his personal space, to the point where she was more or less pinning him to the wall. He did not dare attempt to push her off, knowing the unwanted attention it would garner, as she looked directly into his eyes, their noses almost touching.

"You're going to like me," she began to chant in an obviously faux-mystic intonation. "You're going to like me."

I'm going to hate you.

"Did it work?" she innocently questioned as she stepped back.

She's even worse than Selphie, he realized as he began to lift the glass to his lips once more, but stopped at having caught the tic he was beginning to develop.

At the rate the girl's unrequited flirting had progressed, he understood he would likely end up drinking himself into a stupor before she finally took the hint. While doing so had been the primary incentive for his attendance to begin with, he had hoped to indulge himself on his own terms rather than at the mercy of such a meddlesome nuisance. With an exasperated and labored sigh, he begrudgingly set the glass down upon the nearby pedestal and looked her straight in the eyes once more.

"I can't dance," he lied.

"Oh, you'll be fine," she grinned mischievously, suddenly grabbing hold of his wrist and pulling him from the wall without warning. Squall anxiously stumbled in trying to right his footing, as the girl literally dragged him along into the crowd of dancing couples.

"I'm looking for someone, and I can't be out here on the dance floor by myself!"

"I don't care what you-" he started before jerking to a halt as she stopped upon reaching the center.

He could have easily overpowered her and broken free, but once again recognized the unfavorable picture it would paint for him to start getting physical with a girl in the middle of the hall. She forcibly moved his left hand to her waist, taking his right in her left and placing her free hand on his shoulder. She paused for a moment, and swiftly set her feet in motion as the next measure of the waltz came around, whisking him away into a dance he wanted no part of. He purposefully stifled his own movement, hoping that if he simply acted as though he had already been over-served at the bar, she would be inclined to give up. The girl did not cease, practically lugging him around like a dead weight as he stumbled along with two left feet. It was not long before his willful negligence resulted in a collision with another couple on the floor.

"Hey!" the male SeeD exclaimed upon impact, letting go of his own dance partner and turning to face Squall. "Watch where you're going, buddy!"

"Sorry," he feigned an apology, and started away from his captor. He needed to get some fresh air immediately before he blew a gasket.

"Wait!" she insistently grabbed his sleeve from behind, his frustration flaring to new levels as he felt her fingers snag hold of his uniform. He furiously swiveled back around to finally give her a piece of his mind, only to be met with a sweet, understanding smile upon her fair features.

"Please… I can tell you're faking it. Relax, okay? Tonight's supposed to be about having fun, right?"

Squall's swelling anger immediately deflated, finding himself confused and unsure of how to respond. With all that had transpired in the last few days, with all the weight and uncertainty that had accrued upon his mind, enjoying himself had been rendered dead-last on his list of priorities. He had come to the ball to drown his sorrows, to drink his worries away until they no longer mattered to him, only to find it had been no use. And here was this precocious young girl, who had appeared to him from the blue to offer the release he longed for, and in his rigid detachment he had tried to shoot her down for it. She continued to offer him a boon even now, as she gazed at him with those pleading brown eyes, and still he stubbornly refused to take it.

"I… I guess one dance won't kill me," he muttered taking her hand once more. She beamed at him as she placed her own on his shoulder once again, and after several more beats, the pair began anew.

Squall took the lead, as the two pranced and twirled about to the jovial waltz. The girl matched his movements perfectly and followed him with superb fluidity and grace; clearly she had taken lessons, as had he as part of the Garden's espionage training seminar several years before. They elegantly intertwined and parted in tandem, continuing on for several minutes in the presence of their contemporaries. Despite his initial reluctance, by the end even Squall was forced to admit he was enjoying himself. She was the ideal dancing partner, far more skilled on her feet than many a cadet he had practiced with, and genuinely very pretty besides.

The waltz at last drew to a close, the orchestra finishing with a drawn out rubato as the two drew each other in, Squall's left hand firmly on her waist as the fingertips of his right met hers. A genuine happiness had risen in his chest, perking the corners of his lips ever so slightly as they stared upon one another, seemingly frozen in time. He gazed longingly at her angelic face, and for that one single lingering moment, more so than at any other time he could remember, he felt truly alive.

The illusion was abruptly shattered by a sudden burst of applause from all around, Squall's attention drawn to the conductor on the stage taking his bow. He quickly righted himself again and turned back to face the orchestra, flipping the score upon his stand to the next piece and raising his baton once more. Squall returned his vision to his dance partner, noticing her own gaze had traveled over his shoulder in the interim. She turned her eyes back to him, and slowly removed herself from their embrace.

"See ya," she hastily quipped with a wink and a small wave, taking her leave in the direction she had been looking.

He turned to call her back, to plead that she stay with him just a moment longer, but she was already half-way across the divide to the wall. As he watched her white dress vanish into the crowd of SeeDs that had gathered near the banquet tables, the all-encompassing misery returned as quickly as it had faded. The orchestra began again, this time to a romantic slow dance, and the couples strewn about the dance floor started up again. He stood alone in the center of it all, his head hung as he was left to dwell on the too brief encounter.

He had reluctantly opened himself up, permitted himself to be vulnerable with another for the first time, and had felt real elation and peace of mind in the moment. And yet in allowing himself be so easily swept away, he had forgotten the most important truth of all: to be reliant on others for emotional support was to be rendered incapable and weakened. Nothing lasted forever, least of all the affection of others, and to become dependent on anyone would only lead to his undoing when the time eventually came that he lost everything. He had foolishly let himself be caught up in his own emotions, and now that the moment was over, he was left with exactly that: nothing.

And this, he moped as he dragged himself off the dance-floor to the vacant adjoining balcony. This is why I don't even bother…


It had truly been a sight to behold. Never before had Quistis seen Squall so genuinely invested with another than for those few minutes he had danced with the girl in white. She had observed the waltz from afar, captivated by the grace with which they moved, and left to wonder all the while what the mysterious young woman could have done to have drawn such an uncharacteristic response from him. She had attempted countless times over the years to do the same, only to have been so easily beaten to the punch in a single night. It filled her with happiness at the sight of Squall finally starting to come out of his shell, and an unmistakable pang of jealously that had begun nibbling away at her from within. She understood such feelings had no place in her heart; it was her duty as an instructor to remain impartial and interact with students on a professional level at all times.

'Was', she solemnly reminded herself as the audience applauded the orchestra and the black-haired girl stepped away from Squall with a faint wave, making her way across the room. Squall remained fixed to the spot, staring after her as the music started up again and the surrounding graduates and their dates began to dance once more. He stood solemnly with his head hung, seeming to be taking it personally that she had apparently had her fill for the evening, and slowly started out of the center to one of the archways leading to an outdoor balcony.

Quistis sidestepped many a bystander and approaching dancer as she worked her way around the room's circumference, eventually coming to the opened doorway leading to the breathtaking vista. From the fifteenth floor of the Garden, the balcony offered a superb view of the forested plains leading to the distant Gaulg mountain range to the north. The snow left upon their frigid peaks glistened even from afar in the shine of the moonlight, as their immediate surroundings too were illuminated by the shimmering floating halo-ring atop the academy. Squall stood hunched upon the metallic banister, arms crossed as he gazed out over the wide expanse. Noting his suddenly unresponsive and distant demeanor, Quistis began to reconsider if it were indeed the ideal time to be disturbing him, but with the privacy the veranda currently provided, there seemed no more opportune moment.

"You… really are an excellent student," she began, fumbling for a conversation starter. "Even that dance was perfect."

Squall did not turn his head in acknowledgment of the compliment, allowing a significant pause to linger before he spoke in a low voice, barely audible above the music to their backs.

"Oh… you saw?"

"Yeah," she replied as she made her way to the banister beside him and leaned over, crossing her own arms in imitation. "Whatever brought that on?"

"Is there something you want?" he questioned irritably.

"So you'll dance with someone you don't even know, but can't stand being around me?"

"You're an instructor," he muttered, his tone devoid of emotion. "I'm your student. It's awkward."

"Well then," Quistis sighed deeply, slumping further into the railing. "I guess every cloud does have a silver lining."

She let the ominous foreshadowing hang between the two, hoping it would serve to pique Squall's interest as she gathered her thoughts to explain. The earlier meeting with the administration and the headmaster had been swift and deliberate. No time had been wasted in determining the proper course of action, which had undoubtedly been discussed in advance over the course of the previous three days. She had seen the writing on the wall from far off, and yet to have actually heard such harsh words spoken to her still felt entirely unreal. Headmaster Cid being the kind soul that he was had handled the proceedings with a gentle and empathetic touch; he had genuinely seemed saddened by the measures that were deemed necessary. The faculty had been merciless by contrast, and had told her in no uncertain terms that the experiment that had been her tenure was a failure.

"Effective immediately," she quavered in lieu of no reaction from Squall. "I, Quistis Trepe… am no longer an instructor. I'm just a normal SeeD operative now, like you."

It pained her to verbalize, but that was precisely why she had come. Her dream was at an end, and she desperately needed to relieve the grief from her pounding chest.

"Who knows?" she continued, trying her hardest to crack a smile. "Maybe we'll end up working on a mission together sometime."

"Oh," he finally spoke up. "Really?"

"That's it?" she questioned with exasperation. "That's all you're going to say?"

"What am I supposed to say? If that's how it was decided, then you have to abide by it."

Quistis slumped again, feeling the light breeze sweep her golden fringes across her face as she stared out across the dark plains. Squall was right; there was no method for appeal, no second chance to salvage her position. It would stay as a black mark upon her otherwise spotless record, definitively proclaiming her unfit for the responsibility she had been trusted with.

"They told me that I failed as an instructor," she elaborated. "That I lacked leadership qualities, and that it was a mistake for them to have given the promotion to someone so inexperienced. Of course, they used the episode with Seifer as the chief evidence of that. Apparently I wasn't strict enough, didn't discipline my students the way they wanted. I just..."

She paused, a lump beginning to form in the back of her throat as she fought to eek her words out.

"That… wasn't the kind of instructor I wanted to be. I thought I could do things differently, make friends out of my students instead of being strict and uncaring towards them. I tried my best… I really did. I wonder where I went wrong… are you listening?"

"Are you done yet?" Squall snapped as he rose from the banister. "Why are you dumping this all on me? What do you expect me to say to all of this?"

"I'm not asking you to say anything!" Quistis quickly responded, now actively fighting back tears as she shot up straight from the railing to face him. "I just want you to listen!"

"Then go talk to a wall!" he exploded. "I'm in no mood to listen to someone else's emotional blathering. I've got my own issues, and I don't need any more on my mind."

"Then tell me!" she cried. "I've said it before, that I'm always here if you need someone to talk to! Aren't there times when you want to share your feelings with someone? Just to make everything feel a bit better?"

"Never," he coldly spoke as he turned back to the ballroom. "Everyone has to take care of themselves. The world is cruel, and you have to face it on your own. I don't want to carry anyone else's burden."

"Do you..." she stammered, the first watery trails beginning to run down her cheeks as she attempted to balance herself against the guardrail. "Do you really believe that? That everyone can just get by on their own? Last I remember, it was me who saved you from that… thing back on the beach."

"And maybe you should have done me a favor and just left me to die."

With not a word more, he strode back into the ballroom in a visible huff, leaving Quistis by herself to grieve upon the starlit balcony. She buried her head in her arms upon the ledge, the tears spilling from her eyes uncontrollably.

No leadership qualities… failed instructor… perhaps they're right…