Chapter IX – Runaway Train

An unrelenting force of will…

Meets a stubbornly immovable being…

All because of one judgment.


Quistis's throat felt dry. It had been quite a while since she talked this much. She managed to finish her overview of Garden's code of conduct (plus many other sections in the manual) all in one session with approximately three minutes to spare.

"I'll take any questions you may have now," she ended. A boy's hand in the front row shot up right away. "Yes, Aidan?" Upon seeing the smile on the boy's face when she remembered his name, Quistis silently congratulated herself on her quick memory work.

"How old are you, Instructor Trepe?" The boldness of the boy was admirable. The question was off-topic, but it would be impolite not to answer.

"I'm nineteen." Mumbles of awe went about the room.

The student sitting beside Aidan raised his hand, and Quistis nodded at him. "Are you single, Instructor Trepe?" Other questions abounded.

"Where's your dorm, Instructor Trepe?"

"Instructor, may I buy you lunch?"

"When's your birthday, Instructor?"

She spoke in a tolerant tone, "Class, I meant questions about Garden, not about me." The Garden bell tolled and signaled the end of class. I shouldn't have indulged them in the first place. "I'll see you later for our classes this afternoon. You're dismissed." But not everyone exited the room. Quistis wasn't surprised when Seifer lagged behind to speak to her.

"Great way to start the day, Instructor. Bore everyone to death."

"An overview of Garden protocol is a prerequisite, Seifer. It wasn't boring – most people were listening quite intently," she pointed out as she stuffed some papers into her briefcase. "But I noticed you weren't exactly paying attention. You seemed tense when I interrupted your conversation with Talman. Was something the matter?"

"Something the matter, you say? Of course not," he mocked her formal speech. Seifer placed a gloved hand on his chest as if he had just had a wonderful experience. "That Aki is such a delightful young lass."

She replied with an equal amount of sarcasm. "I'm glad to see that you two get along. My point is, everyone else paid attention." Quistis wished he would listen. This was his last chance to become a SeeD and she will not let him fail again.

"My dear Instructor, when will you learn? Just because they're looking at you doesn't mean they're listening. I can just see those annual Trepie sign-up sheets plastered all over Garden walls already."

Having never heard of this before, she started. "What are you talking about? Never in my stay at Garden have I ever seen anything like that."

"That's because they get taken down before you can even lay your eyes on them. At least I can proudly say that back then, the Disciplinary Committee did its job."

"You've been removing them?" She raised an eyebrow as Seifer folded his arms arrogantly.

"Who else could it have been, Trepe? I have to enforce the rules. Even though littering is only a minor offense in Garden, it's still an offense. Someone has to teach those kids."

"How is it classified as littering if they're on the wall?"

"My definition of litter is 'useless junk I don't like seeing', and in my honest opinion, those things are an eye-sore."

"That's nice, Seifer," she said, not really meaning it and not really caring, although she had to wonder why he despised the Trepies so much. It seemed a silly thing for him to fixate his energy. "Shouldn't you be hurrying along to your next class?"

"Relax, Instructor. I've got at least three more minutes. What's the rush?" Quistis only stared at him with a blank expression, which made him roll his eyes. "Fine." As if afraid, the automatic classroom door slid aside as he stepped within two feet of it and just like that, he left the classroom.

Quistis suppressed a smile when she heard a familiar grunt and the tearing of paper before the door closed again.


The sound of crumpling paper was extremely pleasing. Those Trepies never quit. Seifer threw the trash into a nearby wastebasket with perfect aim and went to his second class. Seifer noticed the Trepie sign-up sheets got fancier every passing year. It was sickening, the way they worship her. Seifer's face turned into a scowl that didn't disappear even when he sat down in his assigned spot in his second class.

He hated having to attend all these classes, especially since he already took them at least three times. Why couldn't Cid just let him take the field exam and get it over with? He knew deep down that he, too, could become a SeeD just as easily as the best soldier can, and then maybe Quistis would be proud of him.

Where did that come from? These involuntary thoughts he'd been having about his Instructor lately were confusing him. Seifer thought about last night, about their dance. He never knew his Instructor could dance so well. Having her in his arms? Indescribable. Try as he might, Seifer couldn't understand or forget how he felt, that for those brief moments when they were so close together, he felt something akin to happiness. Suddenly, it dawned on him.

He had almost kissed her.

He had never kissed anyone before. Back in the days before the War, he had had no time for romance. His high standards for himself when it came to personal training, and the responsibilities that came hand-in-hand with being the head of the Disciplinary Committee, ate up most of his time. Not to mention the minutes he spent teasing Puberty Boy and Chicken-wuss.

Silently scolding himself, he wondered what made him almost do it. But he knew: it was her eyes. The way she looked at him. On top of that, she was also panting slightly, which was more than a bit of a turn-on. He didn't understand why it had to be her. It could've been anyone, but Quistis? Of course, Seifer would never admit to having daydreams of his Instructor Trepe (his?) every once in a while – no, often. Visions and fantasies where she would call out his name over and over with such meaning, and right then, he could have sworn someone was really calling his name.

"Seifer Almasy, you're not listening to me!" a masculine voice growled, and Seifer looked up to see Instructor Brahne towering over him. "You're not paying attention, so I assume you must know everything."

"That's a very flattering assumption, Instructor Brahne," he replied arrogantly.

"Let me ask you again, Cadet. Name the six elements most commonly used on the battlefield for offense."

Seifer heaved an annoyed sigh, which upset the teacher even more, and answered smoothly. "Fire, Ice, Thunder, Water, Wind, and Poison." He knew he had given her the right answer, because all Instructor Brahne did was grunt as she walked back to the front of the room. She never bothered him in class again.


A week had already gone by and there was Seifer, sitting in Instructor Trepe's "Mission Etiquette" class, the last class before the weekend. He glanced at the clock on the classroom wall, too indifferent to listen to what Quistis was saying. The curriculum hadn't changed. Courtesy, respect, graciousness, civility…it was always the same old things.

His ears picked up the words 'field trip'. He paid a little more attention now as he stared at his Instructor's mouth, the full lips that were in the process of explaining the purpose of the trip to everyone. He licked his own lips unknowingly.

"Many missions, especially ones that involve thwarting assassination attempts, will require you to dine with important political figures. It is crucial to note that your table manners must be exceptional in order to maintain an air of professionalism," Quistis elaborated while a few students snickered quietly, somehow finding this reason droll.

"The Headmaster has approved of this trip and tonight, I will be going to a restaurant in Dollet to reserve a time for our class for Monday evening. However, if the reservations cannot be made, we'll have to do this in the Garden cafeteria. This particular lesson cannot be postponed because dining etiquette should be covered before the rest of the course; many things that come after this point hinges on what we learn in this segment. We will be referring back to this often, believe it or not, because it's usually during meals that people let down their guard. We will be having an actual dinner for practice, so do not eat beforehand." Quistis clasped her hands together. "Any questions before the bell rings? Yes, Mariah?"

"Instructor Trepe, how much Gil do we have to bring for the meal?" the timid girl asked.

"None. All expenses are paid by Garden." Quistis watched as Mariah breathed a sigh of relief, understanding sadly that not all students are as well off as most outsiders would think. No more hands came up as the bell came and went. "You're dismissed. Enjoy your weekend."

The students gathered their belongings and trotted out of the classroom, Quistis included, with Seifer close behind. When all the other students dispersed, Seifer asked, "Are you leaving for Dollet right away?"

"Soon. Why do you ask?"

"Can I come?"

Quistis immediately became suspicious. "Why?"

"I have nothing better to do, and would it hurt for a student to spend some quality time with his dear Instructor? Plus, I wanna find out where we're going so I know what to expect."

"If you really want to come, meet me in the Parking Lot at sixteen-hundred and be punctual. Keep in mind we probably won't get back until late this evening."

"Fine by me. Later, Instructor."


Driving on the new underwater roadway connecting Balamb to Dollet and Timber had never been so long. Self-control was the only thing that kept Quistis from slamming on the brakes and pushing Seifer out of the car window. If that big head of his can fit through.

"C'mon, Instructor! Eighty miles per hour? Even Matron drives faster than that."

"Both the law and I prefer that people drive the speed limit." Her grip tightened on the steering wheel slightly, wishing it were his neck. "And for your information, Matron does not drive."

"Would it kill you to drive a little faster?"

"It'll kill one of us," Quistis thought aloud.

"Funny, Instructor. Funny."

"I don't even know what I was thinking when I gave you permission to come with me." She did a quick shoulder-check, signaled, and changed lanes.

"Because I'm your favorite student, Instructor." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grin. "And my irresistible charms."

"Oh, your charms. Right. I've completely forgotten about those."

Seifer caught her rolling her eyes. "No, no, Instructor, stop rolling your eyes. Keep them on the road. I want to get back to Garden alive."

"So now you are giving me driving tips?"

"Damn right I am." His arrogance had made itself quite at home in the small rented vehicle. She tried to ignore his language.

"Keep talking and one of us will be forced to stay at a hotel in Dollet tonight." She really hoped that would happen, because then she would have such a pleasant and peaceful drive home…

Though he wore his seatbelt, Seifer managed to move closer to her, almost speaking into her ear with his playful words. "Why don't we both stay at a hotel in Dollet tonight?"

The mischievous quality of his question made Quistis bite her lower lip, suppressing something. You should be upset. Outraged. In no way is this humorous. Don't smile, don't smile, don't—

Seifer saw the corners of her lips moving upward. He slowly slid an arm across her waist. "I take that as a positive reaction to my suggestion. Now, why don't we—"

"Seifer!" she interrupted harshly. Taking a hand off the steering wheel, she pried his arm away from her. "I only thought it was a comical reply. I did not say I was keen on your 'suggestion', which, Mr. Almasy, was quite inappropriate. Then again, if it wasn't improper, it wouldn't be you."

The blond man let his arm fall back onto his lap. "Instructor, you know me so well." There was that sarcasm again. She must have imagined the hint of disappointment she heard.

The vehicle bounced a bit as it ran over a set of train tracks. They were within Dollet's city limits now.

"Why couldn't you have just phoned the place, Trepe? It would've saved us a lot of time."

"You mean it would've saved you a lot of time. You didn't have to come." Reminded of the time, Quistis checked the clock in the car: 1745 hours.

"Yeah, well, too late."

She sighed. "There are specific demands I need to make. It's much more convenient and easier to understand if I do it in person."

"Must be some kind of fancy place only rich bastards go to."

"That's the best setting for the lesson, yes. Who else can afford to hire SeeDs for around-the-clock protection?" Quistis turned the steering wheel to the right, rounding a corner. "Not many people at Garden have ever gone to places like that outside of a mission," she said, remembering Mariah's question from earlier. Quistis turned again and settled the car into a parking space. The pair unbuckled their seatbelts and headed for the restaurant entrance.

Upon entry, however, they found themselves covered with confetti and crêpe paper that appeared out of thin air.

"Congratulations!" a cheery waiter exclaimed. "You two are the ten-thousandth set of guests the Golden Torama has served! Here's your prize!" A nearby waitress handed Seifer a small piece of paper, which he observed and scowled at respectively.

Quistis was a tad embarrassed. "But you haven't served us ye—"

"Oh, but we will, won't we?" The eager waiter winked at them.

"We're here to make a reservation, if that counts."

"Oh! Even better! Please tell us the date and time and we'll make sure you get what you need!"

"It's a very special case, as a matter of fact. May I please speak with the manager?"

"Oh! It's a wedding, isn't it? Congratulations!" He took one hand each from Seifer and Quistis and shook them vigorously.

Quistis wanted to scratch away the smirk on Seifer's face. "No, sir, we are not getting married. Now, about the manager—"

"Oh, yes, yes! Have a seat and make yourselves comfortable. I'll go get him now!" Quistis and Seifer sat down slowly on plush satin in the waiting area and, well, waited.

Seifer began, "A little over-enthusiastic, wouldn't you say? The help seems too brash for a high-end watering hole," he commented while looking around, unimpressed with the ornate decor and lighting.

"Most new employees are like that." Quistis brushed away some wayward lint that had clung to the lapel of her uniform and crossed her legs, her skirt riding up the tiniest bit. Seifer stole a glimpse at the part of her thigh that became exposed. Big mistake, he thought as he swallowed hard. He placed his eyes elsewhere.

"How do you know he's new?" he said, trying to keep the conversation alive and the image of her legs out of his mind.

She answered as if it were obvious, "Simple observation, Seifer. His nametag is just a slip of paper in a plastic cover. All of the others have gold, engraved nameplates."

Seifer snorted. "Even outside of class, you lecture to all hell. I wonder what you're like when you're asleep." His last sentence sounded too sincere to his own ears for his liking, and he hoped that Quistis wouldn't pick up on it.

Ignoring his comment, she said, "Don't snort in a lavish location, Seifer. Have you learned nothing in my class?"

"I've learned loads, Instructor. I just don't feel like applying myself every second of my life." Before Quistis could say anything more, the manager came into view.

"Here he comes," she whispered. "Either act normal or keep your mouth shut."

"Good evening and welcome to the Golden Torama." The manager shook both of their hands one after the other warmly. He was a man in his late thirties. Taking a look at Seifer, he recognized him as the Sorceress's Knight, but for the sake of business, he smiled generously. Seifer followed orders for once and stayed quiet, but he unconsciously set his jaw when the manager gave Quistis a quick visual once-over.

The manager meant no harm; he was only taking note of her uniform. That somehow didn't matter to Seifer. "A SeeD? All the way from Balamb, I assume." Quistis nodded. "It's an honor to meet you both. May I have your names, please?"

"Quistis Trepe and Seifer Almasy," she answered for the two of them.

"I see. And how may I be of help?"

"Instructors at Balamb Garden are required to teach an etiquette course to our Cadets. I was wondering if we could make use of your restaurant for one evening to cover a particular topic."

"Of course, of course." The manager seemed happy to comply. "So, you are an Instructor at Balamb Garden, and he is…?" He was clearly trying to get a straight answer as to why the ex-knight was in his restaurant.

"One of our students."

"I see. Well, let's get started. What time would you like a table, and how big is your party?"

"Monday, at approximately six in the evening. There are a total of fifteen in the party, including me."

"Very well. Where and how would you like the table arranged?"

"Somewhere secluded, so we won't disturb other diners. It would be very nice if the table can be set up in such a way that all the students can see and hear each other…"


"I can't believe it took you that long just to make one reservation!" Seifer exclaimed as they sauntered out of the Golden Torama.

"You got a complimentary dinner out of it, so I wouldn't complain," Quistis pointed out. "Now you can go without cafeteria food for the remainder of the night."

"I would've enjoyed my meal more if I didn't have people staring at me every other minute."

"It's kind of hard not to notice you, Seifer." There was a thick silence that hung about them as they strode towards the vehicle. Suddenly, Seifer stopped.

"Weren't you ashamed at all?" He felt a need to ask, for his sake and hers.

"Ashamed of what?"

"Being seen with me."

"Why should I be?"

"Maybe the word 'traitor' rings a bell, dear Instructor. Besides, wouldn't it absolutely destroy your perfect reputation?"

For the first time in his life, Seifer Almasy heard Quistis scoff. "Reputation? I don't have much of one."

"Then are you saying that the Trepies are just a figment of my imagination?"

"What do they have to do with this?"

"Those morons have everything to do with this," Seifer muttered angrily. Why was he so emotional tonight?

"I'm sorry, Seifer, I didn't catch what you said."

He spoke louder this time. "I asked if I could drive back, Instructor. I need to let off some steam."

"But doing so through driving isn't such a good id—"

"I won't kill you, if that's what you're worried about. If I did, the Trepies would return the favor, and honestly, they're worse than Bite Bugs. Let me drive."

Quistis closed her eyes and shook her head. "All right."

"Aren't people supposed to nod when they say yes to something?"

"For Hyne's sake, just get in the car and drive!" He loved to frustrate her. By the agitated look on Quistis's face, Seifer could tell he'd won that round. He liked winning.

Finally getting into the car, he started it and backed out of the parking lot. Quistis smoothed the wrinkles on her skirt. "Why are you so anxious to drive anyway?" She crossed her arms and looked sideways at him.

"You drove already, it's my turn."

"You are so juvenile."

"Admit it, you like it."

"The only thing I'll admit is that your driving actually isn't too miserable."

"What's this, a compliment? This is more rare than Chicken-wuss getting his hot dogs. Where's my tape recorder when I need it?"

"You don't have a tape recorder, Seifer."

"Says you, Instructor. How would you know?"

"I just know."

"So you admit it!"

She was confounded. "Admit what?"

"That you stalk me. How else would you know whether or not I have a tape recorder?" His eyes, still on the road, lit up with a playful light and his smirk roused even more aggravation in her.

"Excuse me! I do not stalk!"

"I guess you're right. There's no need to stalk me when you dream about me."

Quistis couldn't lie. She did the occasional dream about him – some good, some bad. But he didn't need to know, and she didn't need to say anything more to feed his growing conceit. "Hyne, why do I even bother with you?"

"Because I'm your favorite student." Seifer quoted himself from earlier that day, "And my irre—"

"—sistable charms, yes, I get the point." Quistis sighed and checked the speedometer to make sure he wasn't driving at an illegal speed. He was a little over the limit, but she decided not to nag him for fear of starting another argument, especially since they were both quiet now. She looked out the window and noticed they still weren't out of Dollet yet.

She had a feeling that it was going to be a long journey home.

Sitting back, she glanced at the meters once more and saw an unsatisfactory sight. "Seifer, pull over at a station and get some fuel," she ordered.

"Fuel?" He sneered. "What do we need fuel for?"

"So the car will run, you inept fool."

"That wasn't very nice, Instructor, calling me names. Relax, we still have half a tank full."

"You don't understand. The fuel—"

"My judgment tells me there's enough to make it back to Garden. Loosen up."

Quistis was too tired to sighed once more as she watched the skyline of Dollet finally beginning to disappear in the dim reflections on the window.


"Look at you. You're gripping the steering wheel improperly," Quistis complained beside him. "Move your hands up a bit." Hyne, this woman was driving him insane. No pun intended.

"Trepe, be quiet and let me drive in peace."

"Why should I? You certainly didn't do the same for me when I asked you nicely. What goes around comes around, Seifer."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He caught a glare from her. "What, do you want me to crash this thing? Because you know I will if I have to."

"Allow me to kindly remind you that you are still on probation."

"That's only on Garden grounds."

"What you are driving now is Garden property. If I were you, I would treat it with caution."

Seifer weighed the pros and cons in his head. Crash the vehicle and get expelled (but finally shut the Instructor up) or keep driving and have his ears scolded off. Either way, it was a lose-lose scenario. There wasn't anything around for him to crash into anyway, and if the impact didn't at least make the Instructor unconscious, then he would get a three-day admission to Lecture Land, guaranteed.

Seifer noticed he hadn't said anything for a full five minutes while he was contemplating. He then realized that if he didn't talk, then maybe she wouldn't talk either. But the absence of her voice made the atmosphere uneasy.

By the time the car was halfway to Timber, the sun had already set. The headlights on the car were functioning but they weren't bright enough. As he checked around the steering wheel for some type of miracle switch that would magically make everything better, he found something he didn't want to see and instantly cursed.

"Seifer?" Quistis's voice cut through the darkness in the car and reminded Seifer that she was there with him.

He replied, "Nothing."

"I wouldn't call a sudden burst of blasphemy 'nothing'." She shifted in her seat next to him. "What's the matter?"

He didn't want to admit that he was…wrong. "We're, uh, out of gas." Almost. There's a bit more left.

"I to—"

"Don't say it, Trepe." If he had seen the smile of triumph on her face, he would have exploded. He didn't know what to do, so he kept driving. But it was only a matter of time before he had to ask. "So, what do we do now?"

"You mean what do you do now. It's not my problem."

"Technically, it is. You're in this with me." When she didn't retort, he said, "Well, what should I do with my 'problem' then?"

"Fix it."

Why does she have to be such a bitch right now? He almost wanted to strangle her now, but 'now' was not a good time. Not when the car suddenly came to an almost deafening halt (and Seifer could swear he heard a weird 'click!'). It felt all too familiar and Seifer wished he had taken a different route to avoid this track.

Two years ago, he had taken a Garden vehicle for a joyride past curfew. That night, he had gotten stuck on a set of train tracks, but he had managed to escape with both him and the car in one piece before he was in any real danger. Now, he was experiencing an immensely displeasing feeling of déjà vu. This time is not all that different, right? He could get out of this jam as easily as he once did two years ago.

If he had more fuel to move the car, yes.

Seifer sensed that Quistis probably figured out what had happened. He let out a colorful stream of curses over and over.

"If enormous amounts of profanity can move the car, then by all means, Seifer, keep it up."

Seifer irritably snarled in response. He stepped out of the car and Quistis followed. They exchanged no words and began to push the car with all their might. As luck would have it, the car was stubborn and seemed to enjoy sitting on the train tracks.

"I don't think it'll budge. I heard something click beneath the car when we stopped," Quistis explained, "Some part or mechanism must have latched on to the tracks."

Oh, so it wasn't just me who heard it. That's a good sign. I think. Seifer kicked the automobile out of exasperation and it left a medium-sized dent. Swearing again, he realized maybe he shouldn't have done that.

Upon hearing his dissatisfaction, Quistis calmly said, "It's all right, Seifer. This car is as good as dead. A few more dents won't change anything."

"How do you know we won't get this thing out?"

Quistis shook her head in disappointment. "Tell me you're not going deaf." Deaf? Why would he be going deaf? Seifer listened and heard nothing.

Nothing but the train whistle that sounded from somewhere on his left.

Out of the blue, Seifer screamed, disquieting the Instructor. "WHY? Why do these things happen to me?" The ground quickly became as shaky as his entire mercenary career.

"Seifer, now would be a great time to start walking away from the tracks."

"Thank you, Instructor, for stating the obvious." Walking away was really the only option. Forget walking. The train was coming closer and closer. Even idiots would run at a time like this. Well, maybe not Chicken-wuss.

"Seifer, stop!" Quistis's commanding tone stopped him cold. He was already rather far away from her.

"What? I'm trying to save my life here and you're telling me to stop?"

"You're running the wrong way!"

"Well, where should I run? Does it matter?"

"It matters a lot more than you think it does! You run towards the train where it's safest because the train will block you from most of the debris that might come flying your way and kill you while you're trying to save yourself!"

Oh, right. Where have I heard that before?

In one of her classes, Almasy.

Right.

As Seifer sprinted towards his Instructor, he felt the burnished train rumbling the grassland beneath him, creating uneven ripples in Obel Lake nearby. The pungent screech of the train's ignorant whistle was piercing his eardrums, making his head spin. He almost stumbled. Concentrating, he compellingly closed the remaining few yards of open space between him and his Instructor. He could see the sleek forest-green body of the train now, with its blurry strips of red, green and gold. The thunderous reverberation of the train's wheels echoed through the plains and it reminded him of Ifrit's growl.

"Seifer, get down! Now!"

Not needing to be told twice, he landed on his stomach beside Quistis, impulsively throwing an arm over her back to shield her. Turning his head, he stared at the scene unfolding before him. The runaway train seemed to be chortling as it dashed to impact. With a vociferous roar rivaling that of the healthiest T-Rexaurs, their ticket home smashed into innumerable pieces, igniting sparks that lit up the night sky.