A/N: I've heard that some of you are having trouble leaving reviews. An explanation: when I took down "Dreams of Esdraelon" and reposted it as "This Final Heaven," I didn't create a new story ID number. So if you reviewed way back when, you won't be able to submit a signed review for the same numbered chapter in the new story. It's entirely my fault, and I'm sorry, but it shouldn't be an issue anymore after this chapter. If you feel compelled to leave feedback, feel perfectly free to review anonymously, send me a PM, an email, or leave a comment on any post in my live journal.
Chapter 12: Things Fall Apart
In the lemony light of dawn, Balamb Garden was hushed and groggy. Squall's footfalls sounded heavy against the tile, so he slowed as he walked through the dormitory wing. He'd left Rinoa behind in bed purring peacefully and was very aware of her absence. It made him tired to be without her, though it also leveled the surface of his mind, clearing away the dreamy cobwebs. He took a deep breath and rode the automatic rock and pull of his feet away from the dorms, out into the main hallway.
Lightheaded, he walked to the training center, which he knew would be empty. The shrill cry of early rising birds and the chill of midnight dew met him a he started off on one of the often used trails that circled across the pond, skirted the back of the center, and then went back to the door.
One round ought to do it.
He needed the time to think, time to wrap up in himself away from Rinoa and work. Despite the pressure his friends put on him to open up, Squall still valued his solitude and was fueled by time spent in repose and reflection. Lately though, Rinoa had been absorbing all of his social energy, and he'd spent every waking moment tied in a knot of love pains. He hadn't been able to find the space to sit and think about everything that had happened. And he knew he needed to, because eventually he would have to talk to Irvine and Selphie.
But how could he tell them they'd been betrayed? Saying it out loud would release it from the realm of thought and into the cold, hard basis of reality. Once he said it, it couldn't be undone. And he was still hoping that somehow it would all prove to be a mistake.
Passing by the spot were Irvine had been found, beaten bloody by Seifer and his posse, Squall paused and gave it time to sink in.
And it chilled his blood.
His heart ached at the breach of trust he'd thought he had -- especially with Quistis.
The memory of her standing on the bridge with Save the Queen in her hand was dazzling and brilliant in his mind, as was the sound of her voice admitting that the frantic calls from Selphie were her doing, that she'd let Seifer in. Past that, his recollection was tormented by the sharp pain of cactaur needles and the surprise of feeling a strong Hyperion parrying his Lionheart. His gut turned over when he thought about it.
He swung his gunblade at a grat with such gusto that a tentacle tore loose and flew off the end of his weapon to wrap around a tree branch where it dangled limply, dripping green slime onto the ground.
After two more circuits of the training center, Squall was thoroughly filthy and still conflicted. Maybe, he thought, he wouldn't bring it up. Selphie and Irvine never had to know.
He was on his way to the locker room for a much needed shower when he overheard voices from down the hall. Curious and uneasy to interrupt, he stopped and waited. And, against his better judgment, he listened.
"All I'm saying is that it seems strange," said a voice. Xu. Squall recognized her holier-than-thou tone.
"He hasn't said anything to me," someone replied. Selphie -- an odd combination.
"Haven't you asked?"
"No. I've been with Irvy in the infirmary."
Squall shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He hadn't even thought about visiting Irvine. He'd been too wrapped up with...with...what? With Rinoa?
"We're coming up on Galbadia Garden now," Xu said. "And I can't shake the feeling something's going to happen. It can't be good for us to even be in the area after what happened. I don't know why we didn't just go back to Balamb in the first place. But now we're in Galbadian water. You should ask him what's going on."
"Have you ever tried that?" Selphie asked incredulously. "You can't just walk up to him and be all, 'Hey! What's up?' He's secretive, and guarded, and...deep! I'm sure he's got a good reason."
"We haven't gotten a mission statement," Xu replied. "The faculty is starting to ask me questions, and I don't know what to tell them."
"How about...we're going on vacation!" Selphie giggled. "Sounds like fun. We really should."
"I'm serious," Xu warned.
The low pitch of her voice made Squall step into a defensive position against the wall, cobwebs spinning thick and hoary in his head again. Suspicious, he listened on, careful not to make a sound as the two continued their early morning rendezvous. Quistis and Xu had been good friends. Was it possible...?
"Nida says we're not stopping in Galbadia, that we're going to Centra," she whispered conspiratorially. "And he says Squall didn't give him any reason, just said to set a new course. We haven't even contacted Laguna to tell him the Trabia mission is off. And I haven't seen anyone from the crater mission or received their debriefings. Have you? Quistis, or Zell, or anybody?"
"Irvy says he saw Quisty and Zell in the training center before the attack."
He'd seen them, Squall realized, and then they'd left Seifer behind to deal with the inconvenient disruption of their plan.
"Something's not right," Xu declared. "Even the way he cut off the crater mission was strange. He paged Irvine, you know, to go look for Quistis and Zell, and then fifteen minutes later Irvine came up to me on the bridge and told me it was all over." There was a long silence, and then Xu added, "I'm going to talk to the Headmaster about it."
Squall caught himself reaching for his gunblade and stopped, horrified.
What are you doing? They're your friends. They're Rinoa's friends.
Genuine friendship was a valuable commodity these days. A dark part of his heart wondered whether they'd turn against him once they found out Quistis and Zell were on the other side. Did they have a better, stronger bond? One that might breach the high divide of right and wrong?
He drew his arms close about himself, locking Lionheart against the flesh of his thigh with his elbow and withdrew into the rainy doubt that had haunted him from birth -- the one thing Laguna had managed to give him. Everyone left eventually: they moved on to bigger things, or found new relationships, or they died. He felt alone and frightened as he slipped back into the training center.
Quistis and Zell had been ready to kill him, perfectly willing to go through him to get to Rinoa. And now Xu and Selphie were plotting some sort of...sort of...? What? A revolution? Was he about to be deposed as Garden's commander?
Confused, he rubbed a tender spot between his eyes with the heel of his palm and tried to clear his head, but the fog refused to lift. He felt disoriented, like he'd slept too long or like the world was about to slip out from underneath his feet.
He leaned against the wall, which was grainy with pollen under his clammy fist.
Outside the training center door, he heard Xu and Selphie walk by, exchanging pleasantries as they parted ways, as if nothing had happened in the hallway at all. They'd look him in the face later that day and smile, ask him how Rinoa was doing, and pretend as if they weren't whispering behind his back. Whispering that he was--
Squall shook his head.
What? That I'm...what?
It didn't make sense. His mind was spinning on greased tracks, running out of control, and the solid foundation he'd thought he had to stand on was crumbling underneath him.
Quistis, Zell...Xu. Who was next?
Maybe everyone.
He closed his eyes -- tight, until he saw spots dancing across the dark.
When did this happen? he wondered.
Betrayal, confusion, suspicion, loss: the perfect and hopeful life he'd been leading was gone, had maybe never been there in the first place. But he'd been happy for a while, he thought. Until now.
Now...I'm falling apart.
0 0 0
Morning had dawned clear and pleasant in Dollet. The soft sunlight was curled lovingly around Quistis as she followed Raijin and Fujin up to their understated home, reluctant to admit that she felt a soft blush of comfort looking up at the blooming flower boxes and the cherry wood lattice around the windows. What would it be like, she wondered, to spend weary evenings in a place like this? All she'd ever known was communal living, from the orphanage to the Garden dorms; she'd never had a place of her own. And certainly never a place as welcoming as this one.
"Good to be home, ya know?" Raijin said as he took the steps two at a time.
"RELIEF," Fujin agreed.
Seifer's house. It was still difficult to believe.
But there he was, pushing past her and through the door. She followed him into the kitchen where he retrieved a glass from one of the cupboards and filled it with water from the tap. She leaned against the counter and watched him drink as Raijin got down on his knees and began digging through the pantry.
"What're you gonna make?" Seifer asked and leaned over Raijin's back with his half empty glass to rifle through the shelves as well.
"I thought you were from Garden," Dr. Shipey said, drawing Quistis' attention. He was standing beside the kitchen table, his books clutched tight against his chest.
Quistis pulled out a chair for him to sit in. "We are. Me and Zell, anyway. Seifer, Raijin, and Fujin are no longer associated with Balamb Garden."
"Oh. Of course. I guess they wouldn't be." He paused and looked around. "So this is their house?"
"Yeah..."
"Hey! Watch it, ya know!" Raijin bellowed from inside the pantry. Seifer swore loudly before he was forcefully ejected from the cramped closet. Red faced, he took a place at the table across from Quistis and didn't offer any explanation. She'd never seen him more cowed and stared across the expanse of glossy birch with her mouth hanging slack. The scathing look he gave her made her mouth snap shut again, though she made a mental note to ask Raijin later what he'd done.
"Oh man...I'm so hungry." Zell flopped down into the chair next to Quistis and clutched his stomach so hard that his face nearly touched the surface of the table. "I think I could eat a whole chocobo."
"Wouldn't that be cannibalism?" Seifer asked sourly.
"Dude. Right now, I'm not completely opposed to the idea," Zell replied in all seriousness. "Though I'd really prefer some hot dogs. You know. Some big, juicy, luscious hot dogs...ohh yeah..."
"Shit. Don't blow your load all over my kitchen, Wuss."
Raijin heated up a long, flat griddle on the stove top and, with more elegance than Quistis had ever seen him display in battle, whipped up a creamy batter in a plastic bowl, each hand moving independently to add ingredients. Cooking was not a talent that she possessed, so she watched with no small amount of awe as he poured the batter into perfect circles and, as if by magic, created a plateful of fluffy crepes in under fifteen minutes. Intense hunger only kicked in when he brought them to the table, and she shifted uneasily in her seat as he calmly delivered a bowl of strawberry jam, another of chocolate mousse, and a tall pitcher of pulpy orange juice as well.
Not since she'd been a weary cadet had Quistis enjoyed a meal more.
Her first crepe she slathered unevenly with jam and then shoved half the rolled up delicacy into her mouth. Her stomach pitched and growled, devouring every morsel she gave it until she'd gone through three crepes and two glasses of orange juice. Still, she wanted more, and couldn't resist swiping one finger through the empty chocolate mousse bowl. Rolling her chocolatey finger around in his mouth, she closed her eyes and sighed.
Slowly, she pulled the digit from her lips.
"Raijin, I think I'd marry you just to get this every morning."
Under the table, Seifer kicked her in the shin, shocking her eyes open. He was regarding her with a twisted, unpleasant expression.
"What was that for?" she asked.
He feigned ignorance. "What was what for?"
Ignoring them, Zell slammed down his empty juice glass and said to Raijin, "I agree with Quisty. You got a gift, Man."
Raijin blushed and rubbed the back of his head with a floury hand, leaving fingerprints there. "It's just a hobby, ya know?"
"This isn't a hobby," Zell said, indicating his empty plate. "It's a calling."
The six sat around the crowded table in stuffed silence, growing heavy and weary while Quistis silently contemplated whether a revenge kick to Seifer's shin would be too childish (she didn't want to embarrass herself any more than necessary in front of Dr. Shipey). Fujin's unpatched eye fluttered closed, then back open; Zell began visibly teetering on his chair; and Dr. Shipey was looking down at his hands without ever glancing back up. Only Seifer seemed completely unaffected as he leaned back in his chair and hooked his thumbs on the front of his pants.
"So, what do you say?" he asked and kicked Quistis under the table again, more gently this time but still hard enough to make her wish she'd retaliated to begin with. "Hot tubbing?"
"I already said no."
He rolled his eyes.
"Fujin?"
Her eye snapped open again. "TIRED."
He sighed dramatically. "I can't go on my own. So one of you has to come with me."
"LATER."
"Yeah," Quistis agreed. "I just want to go to bed." A gaping yawn broke through in time to prove her point.
"Fine. You might as well go then," he said, crossing his arms.
Her processing powers weren't up to their usual speed. "Go? Where?"
"To your hotel."
Everything that had felt so pleasant and forgiving about Seifer and his home moments before shattered: the acidic aftertaste of orange juice in her throat, the over-full grumbling of her stomach, the glossy finish of the tabletop now marred with sticky fingerprints. All of it was suddenly unwelcoming and forbidden, drawn away by this vindictive man with a heart of solid granite. Quistis felt like leaping across the table and beating him senseless.
"You expect us to stay in a hotel?" she choked out.
"Uh...yeah. Why wouldn't you?"
"Dude. I don't even want to stay here," Zell said. "I'd much rather stay in the hotel than here with you."
"You gonna take back all that love poetry about Raijin's cooking?" Seifer asked. "Just let us know what room you're staying in, case we need to come save the professor or anything." He stood up, signaling that the conversation was over, and stretched long enough that his fingers grazed the ceiling. Then, with nothing more than a half-hearted wave, he vanished out the back door, presumably to get into the hot tub alone after all.
Zell turned to Quistis, who was flaming so hot and so intensely with horror and rage that she felt the back of her eyes burning.
"We don't need to put up with that kinda crap," he said. "We're ten times better off without him anyway."
The fact that Zell so poorly understood their situation only served to incense her further.
"No," she replied firmly, surprised at how level and sane her voice sounded. "We're going to stay here. There's no point in splitting up. We're staying, whether he likes it or not."
"Ain't gonna be easy to convince Seifer of that, ya know?" Raijin said.
"QUIET!" Fujin growled and slapped him on the back of the head, raising a cloud of flour from his hair. "MORON!"
"Seifer doesn't have a choice. Just go make yourself comfortable, Zell. You, too, Dr. Shipey. I'll take care of it." Her chair screamed across the linoleum as she backed away from the table, a foreboding sound that affirmed her suspicion the coming confrontation would be as pleasant as lying in a tub of a grat's gastric juices.
She clutched the door handle with an intense sense of purpose. The time had come to beat back the demon that had always haunted her, parading through her life and her job and leaving behind a massive wake of destruction. It was time Seifer learned who was boss. The four at the table were watching her closely; even Dr. Shipey was frozen with anticipation.
"Go!" she ordered and waved a hand to shoo them away.
They scrambled for the living room, even Raijin and Fujin, looking very much like they were fleeing for their lives. And maybe they were.
That arrogant asshole can't kick us out! They had nowhere else to go. No money. No resources. She was at his mercy. And she knew from experience, mercy was something Seifer Almasy didn't posses. But she'd beat it into him until he understood. This was the last straw.
Fueled with adrenalized confidence, she opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the deck.
0 0 0
Seifer was unlacing his boots when he heard the door slide open and closed again. Quistis Trepe stood in front of it, her arms crossed and her glasses riding high on her nose. The curtains were still swaying behind her on the other side of the door when she spoke.
"I need to talk to you."
He dropped one boot and went to work on the other. "Change your mind?"
He genuinely hoped that she had since his usual hot tub companion, Fujin, wasn't exactly a gifted conversationalist. Quistis, on the other hand, always had something to say.
"No."
He tried to hide his disappointment. "Really?"
"Really."
"It's not like you have to be embarrassed or anything," he said as he pulled his socks off, hoping to convince her. She was already out on the deck with him, forsaking her previous complaint that she was tired and wanted to go to the hotel, and that was half the battle. "I mean, I've seen you, at the base and afterwards. And I know, there isn't anything you need to hide. You're not fat. Or flat chested. Or ugly. In fact, you're not too bad to look at all around..." He sensed that this wasn't going quite as he'd planned.
The water in the hot tub was bubbling now, frothing with white jets. Heaven. The perfect way to drive away the chill that was still clinging to his bones. He was just trying to do her a favor: she needed to unwind. Even now she looked like she was about to explode.
"I know I'm not ugly," she replied. "Maybe I think you'reugly. Did you consider that?"
He smirked. "No."
Now she was hedging, probably concerned that giving into his suggestion would violate some obscure SeeD rule about fraternizing with the enemy, or former students, or whatever she considered him to be. But she was playing the game, engaging in the back and forth, and that was a good sign.
"Zell, Dr. Shipey, and I will be staying here," she announced. "You have a house, and we're a team. We're not going to split up."
"Chicken Wuss said you guys didn't want to stay here."
"We don't."
"Then what's the problem?" He stood up and pulled his arms inside his shirt, working it up over his head, and then tossed it onto a nearby lawn chair. He saw no reason this conversation couldn't take place in the warmth and comfort of the hot tub. "I mean, shit...if you don't want to stay here, and I don't want you to stay here, and there's a perfectly good hotel right down the street...I don't see a problem."
"The problem is you!" she hissed. "It doesn't matter whether we want to say here. We're a team! You're supposed to offer!"
"Well...do you want to stay here?"
She hesitated. "I'm not even that happy about sharing a city with you at the moment. But if we split up, Dr. Shipey will be in that much more danger."
"How do you figure?" Seifer asked and unbuttoned the fly of his pants. "Why would he be safer in my living room than at the hotel? I'd think with your opinion of me, you'd want the bastard as far away from me as possible."
"Are you going to be a part of this team or not?" she countered, then crossed her arms in that uptight, don't-mess-with-me way she'd perfected during her one year of teaching. "I really need to know, Seifer, whether you can ever consider anyone but yourself. Because all you've done so far is put the rest of us in danger and make our lives miserable. You might think that we need you, but we don't."
"If you want to get past Squall..." he drawled, stepping closer to her, "You need me. And you know it. I'm the only one who can beat him." He'd hoped his proximity would distract her or unnerve her in some way, but her gaze never wavered from his face. It was crushing, like a sledgehammer. And, in a way he didn't care to examine, it was exciting. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been the focus of attention this direct. It fueled his arrogant ego, making it swell and press into the erratic rhythm of his heart.
"You can't beat Squall."
"He didn't give that scar to himself."
"That was a long time ago. He's a finely honed soldier now, and you're a blue collar average Joe who guts fish for a living."
"Oh, Quistis. Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere with me," he said and grinned. "You have got to be the most unpersuasive person in the world. I'm amazed you never managed to nail Puberty Boy with a poetic arsenal like that."
Her face flushed an attractive shade of pink.
Damn, she's amusing when she's angry.
He'd always enjoyed pushing her buttons when he'd been her student. Now that she was under real pressure, and the cozy ranks and rules of Garden were off across the ocean, she was even more entertaining to poke and prod.
"I'm not trying to convince you of anything," she said. "I'm demanding, because I'm your leader. The entire team will be staying here. It's an order."
Order. That got under his skin. He turned his back on her and walked over to the hot tub to dangle one hand in the water. She just had to go and ruin this.
"I don't take orders from you, Quistis," he replied. "So forget it. Go to your hotel and count me out of this whole mission. Go save the world and fight Squall yourself."
She growled deep in her throat, animal-like, and he heard her steps advancing on him. One. Two. Three. It was all she needed.
"Damn it, Seifer! Quit being such an ass!" She shoved him hard in the back. "We can't go to the hotel!"
"Sure you can. I'll walk you there, just to be rid of you."
When he turned around, she was standing close to him, and she was angry -- angrier than he'd ever seen her in all his years at Garden. Her blue eyes were wide and wild, her fists trembling at her side with passionate rage. This was not the Quistis Trepe who'd taken him on his last field exam. This was not the instructor who had stood in front of his homeroom class and droned on about junctioning until he'd wanted to trepan himself with his pencil just to relieve the boredom. This was the Quistis Trepe he'd seen after the base mission...some kernel of a being that lived inside of her that reveled in blood and violence and power.
This Quistis he could relate to. And he was glad to see her, though she verbally tore into him moments later.
"I'm trying to save some of my dignity here! But you just won't let me have it!" She was nearly standing on his toes. "You want to know why I can't take Zell and Dr. Shipey to a hotel? Fine! Because I don't have the money to, that's why! Are you happy now? Happy that you've made me grovel?"
She sucked in a deep breath. Her cheeks were ruddy and her delicate face was eerily enhanced by the display of emotion. It made Seifer's gut twist. His attention was snared by her anger, like a fish on a hook, and he couldn't look away.
"You're broke?"
"Broke. Yes. Poor...poor Quistis Trepe. Failure of an instructor. Failure of a SeeD. Right?"
Do I even know this girl?
"I thought you were so rich and made so much money."
"I do make a lot of money. But Garden isn't exactly paying me right now." She jabbed a sharp finger into the middle of his chest. "I used to think that maybe there was something redeeming in you. But there isn't, is there? You're just a selfish, arrogant bully. Well I want you to know that the world is going to end here -- actually end -- and it's all because of you. It's all your fault."
"It's not my fault." His heart was racing. "You're the leader."
All of the criticism and the insults meant nothing. Not when she was standing nose to nose with him, spitting fire. He wanted more, wanted to see her pushed to the edge, so he abraded the wound. She was strangely beautiful like this, unguarded and free.
"Screw you," she breathed, shaking her head. Even now, she couldn't level a hard curse at him.
"Probably all you're good for." He prodded. Take it further. A little bit more. How much animal fury existed under the calm outer shell of Quistis Trepe?
A fountain, he discovered, when she bared her perfect, white teeth and slung her whip around his neck, tightening it with one quick jerk of her hand. The barbs dug into the flesh under his chin. The sinew creaked in his ears. And she looked him right in the eye with fiery murder splashed across her face. The effect was instantaneous and surprising. He couldn't stop himself as the urge gripped his heart and squeezed. Suddenly, some twisted, horrible piece of his soul was reaching out, claiming her heaving breath, her bottom lip, and the sweet taste of her passion.
It was short. Only a split second of lip and tongue before she was all the way across the deck, hands up over her mouth.
"Did you just...?" She dropped her whip, though Seifer could feel it around his neck.
Startled, he turned away and let out a long breath -- the one that he'd stolen from her gasping breast. What had just happened? It had felt like a rubber band snapping: the insults flying, her blood pumping, and all for him. It had been...oh God, it had been exhilarating.
"You can stay," he said. His voice was thick. "The professor and the Wuss, too."
He scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, trying to rid himself of the lingering taste of her mouth on his, and fervently reminded himself that the woman standing behind him was Quistis Trepe.Instructor Trepe. Since when had she become interesting? Since when had she had any fire?
How the hell had this happened?
She didn't say anything, just picked up her whip and went back through the sliding glass door, leaving Seifer alone on the deck to wonder what had come over him.
His heart was still racing, and it made him feel sick.
0 0 0
When Quistis stumbled into the living room, Zell was already asleep, curled up on the loveseat and snoring loud enough to overpower the jackhammaring of her heart. She was dizzy with it, her mind numb to coherent thought. And no matter how many times she smoothed her hand across her mouth, her lips continued to burn. She collapsed across the couch, buried her face against the cushions, and privately replayed the last five minutes of her life.
She'd tried to kill Seifer.
The second her whip was all the way around his neck, she'd been committed. And part of her had fully intended to follow through.
But then...he kissed her.
It had been fast and strange, not really a kiss at all the way she normally defined them. And yet she felt indelibly marked. How could she ever face Zell again, knowing what had happened? And why could she still feel his warm breath on her face.
She rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.
Now that she'd gotten her way, she wasn't sure she wanted to stay in the same house as Seifer. If she counted this as a victory, she also felt compelled to scribble a large note in the margin regarding the circumstances. It made her feel used. But it also was fanning the ember of something dark and primal in her gut. She knew she couldn't change her mind now, not without having to explain to everyone why suddenly the hotel didn't seem like such a bad idea. But she also knew that whatever had happened out on the deck between her and Seifer had to be contained. It could never happen again.
They were part of the same team. Team members didn't do things like that to one another, on either count -- the killing or the kissing.
She huffed with frustration, unable to unravel the exact circumstances that had brought her here.
Was it possible that Seifer liked to be treated aggressively?
For a moment, she chewed on that thought. In a bizarre, psychological way, she supposed it made sense. All of his relationships were ones of dominance and submission. In Timber, Edea had wooed him away from his SeeD path not with words of flattery or promises of fame, but with hard criticism. The memory flared in her mind, though it wasn't entirely clear or whole from her vantage point lying dazed on the cold, metal floor of the television station. She hadn't thought about that day in years. Now the memory clicked into place, a perfect fitting puzzle piece.
He actually seemed most comfortable in antagonistic relationships: from the constant fist fights and gunblade duels with Squall to the degrading treatment he'd received at the hand of Ultimecia.
Although, that still didn't explain why he'd kissed her.
Or why he'd ever been able to be "something" to Rinoa Heartilly. Or the odd friendship he had maintained for years with Raijin and Fujin.
Or how she could prevent him from ever kissing her again.
She touched her bottom lip with her index finger and rubbed it across the smooth arc to the side of her mouth and back. No. She definitely didn't want him to do that again. Although, strangling him once more might not be such a bad idea.
She propped her head up on her arms and tried to outline a new psychological profile that left fewer loose strings. But before she constructed anything more solid than her "Seifer the sadist" theory, she heard the sliding glass door open and his bare feet coming across the linoleum. Quickly, she threw one arm across her eyes and feigned sleep, although through the crook of her elbow she saw him enter the living room and start up the stairs.
He was damp, wearing only a pair of wet boxers and carrying his clothes wadded up in his right hand. He didn't even bother to glance at her as he disappeared up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door behind him.
Zell snorted and rolled over.
Bastard,Quistis thought. He could have at least looked at me.
As sleep began tugging at her consciousness, another possibility occurred to her. Somehow, Seifer had used the kiss to insult her, to follow through on his casual declaration that her only worth existed as a body.
Thinking of that made her fists clench, but she couldn't quite resolve that motive against the way he'd looked at her over the top of her whip with his green eyes dilated and dark. Her lips were still tingling a moment later as they parted and she sighed out a final conscious breath, then drifted off to sleep.
0 0 0
The sun was low in the sky, shining directly through the back windows of the house, when the smell of Raijin's cooking woke Quistis up again. She walked into the kitchen to find Dr. Shipey at the table, working on his translations. Zell was sitting in front of a small television, fiddling with the antenna to clear the picture of a local weatherman in a dark suit who was walking across a cartoony map of Dollet, pointing to animations of dark clouds blowing windy gusts across the ocean and a smiling sun beaming down on the city.
"Hey. You're up," he said, and used this as a cue to turn up the volume on the TV.
"A cold front will be moving through Wednesday night bringing more rain..." the weatherman began.
Quistis stifled a yawn and leaned over Raijin's elbow to gaze into the pot he had simmering on the stove.
"How long until dinner?" she asked.
"About half an hour. Still gotta finish baking, ya know?"
She didn't, but she did know that would be enough time to sneak in a shower. She got directions to the bathroom from Raijin, permission to use one of his towels (the Pupurun one, naturally), and left the stomach rumbling scent of food behind. At the top of the stairs, her bare feet sank unto the plush carpet. Second door on the left.
She was just beginning to fantasize about clean hair and fresh skin when the door across from the bathroom opened up and Seifer stepped out, blocking the whole hallway with his mass. His hair was ruffled with sleep and he had on a pair of navy blue Balamb Garden sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. For a second, she thought she might be able to run before he spotted her, but he yawned and pinned her to the wall with his gaze.
"I was just..." she pointed over his shoulder at the bathroom door. "Dinner won't be ready for another half hour, so I thought..." She groaned inside. Why was this so hard? "I thought I'd take a shower."
"Yeah."
Awkwardly, she looked down at her feet and waited for him to either leave or approach her.
"You have couch marks on your face," he said instead.
Some starch added to her spine, she crossed her arms and said, "You're not going to get a rise out of me this time."
"Trust me, Quistis. I don't want a rise out of you."
A hot blush flamed across her face, making her heels sink back into the carpet. Thankfully, Zell called up the stairs a second later, absolving her from thinking up a neutral response.
"Quisty! You better come see this!"
She flew down the stairs, more eager than she'd intended, and nearly missed the final step. She had to grab the banister to keep from pitching headfirst into the living room and could hear Seifer plodding slowly down after her as she fled into the safety of the warm, bright kitchen.
Zell, Fujin, and Dr. Shipey were crowded around the small television as Raijin held onto the antenna. On the screen, a pair of news anchors was sitting, staring uncomfortably at the camera.
"Okay," the woman said, lifting one hand to brush across her ear. "We're getting word now that the address is about to start. If you hold on, we're going to switch over to our Deling City feed for the duration of the speech."
The screen went fuzzy, then blank. "What's going on?" Quistis asked.
"Krier is giving a presidential address," Zell replied, then tugged her closer to the TV.
The picture resolved into a familiar tableau. President Krier stood, looking just as he had at the dinner in Balamb in his impeccably tailored suit, classy silk tie, and carefully groomed face that was neither welcoming nor overly intimidating. He gripped a dark, wooden podium with both hands, the front of which was adorned with the large, abstract emblem of the Galbadian empire.
Quistis felt Seifer come up behind her as the president began speaking.
"Good evening Galbadia and the world," he began, then paused as if the world were speaking back. "I come to you tonight with unfortunate but pressing news. Yesterday, one of our military bases located in the desert was attacked. A dozen of our brave men and women were killed. I have just returned from the base and learned directly form the soldiers stationed there that the attack was launched from an Estharan air ship and was conducted, at least in part, by members of Balamb Garden's elite SeeD force."
"Oh...shit," Zell swore.
Krier gazed down at his hands, exuding sympathy and regret. "I believe this is an attack we cannot afford to ignore. Not only have our sons and daughters perished, but information vital to Galbadian national security was compromised during the course of this unprovoked assault. Some of you may be aware that I have recently been in negotiations with Esthar's president, Mr. Laguna Loire, in an attempt to ease the tensions between our countries. It now seems obvious that diplomacy has failed. And, as I have also recently been informed that Balamb Garden is currently on a course for Galbadia Garden, I believe that we must take immediate action."
Quistis shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. Why would Garden be heading toward Galbadia?"
"Esthar and Garden have left us only one choice," Krier announced. "We are under attack from a group of people who do not want our country to exist. Our only option is to defend ourselves. And so, as of three this afternoon, the Galbadian Senate under my direction has voted to officially declare war against the country of Esthar and the entity known as Balamb Garden."
"Garden's not a country. He can't declare war on it. Can he?" Zell asked.
"He just did," Seifer replied.
"This war will not be quick or easy," Krier warned. "But we must stand together as Galbadians and fight for our right to survive. We will not fall or flounder; we will not subside or diminish. There is a cycle to human events. Some generations are given everything, while others are faced with seemingly insurmountable tasks. This generation of Galbadians will forge a new world for the next, so that our children will never have to face the threats that we have endured."
Krier let the crescendo of his speech hang and fade.
"Thank you," he finally concluded. "And goodnight."
The screen went black again before changing back to the now even more stymied journalists. The woman cracked an uncertain smile and looked to her male counterpart who seemed at a loss to say anything.
"A...uh...momentous and unexpected announcement from Deling City, Charlene," he said, his eyes flashing back and forth across the camera.
"Indeed, Tom..."
Raijin let go of the antenna and static overwhelmed the anchors' faces.
"I don't get it." Zell turned to Quistis and scratched his head. "He has to know Esthar wasn't behind that attack. And Garden is politically neutral."
Seifer sighed, his breath sending a shiver across the back of Quistis's neck. "Makes sense to me. You're attacked by a bunch of SeeDs in an Esthar airship...what are you supposed to assume?"
Having met Krier, Quistis wasn't convinced the situation was that simple.
"No one has ever declared war on Garden before," she said. "And he didn't declare war on all Gardens, just Balamb. There's no way he can know that we're from Balamb. Plus, war with Esthar isn't in his best interest if he still thinks Dr. Odine is working with him. So, something must have gone sour between them." Dr. Shipey nodded his agreement. "And he knows Rinoa is on Balamb Garden. He must be using our attack as an excuse. Declaring war will let him gather the manpower that he needs to pursue both Dr. Shipey and Rinoa."
"Ain't gonna make things any easier on us," Seifer grunted. "He's got all of Dr. Shipey's notes unless the grenades wiped them out. If he's found the professor's list, then there's gonna be Galbadian soldiers crawling all over those ancient Centran sites like ants on chicken wing."
Hopelessness threatened to creep over Quistis again. She marshaled it and said, "I know. But he still needs Dr. Shipey. So, as long as we can keep the professor safe, we've still got the upper hand."
Shipey frowned as they all turned to look at him. Now Garden, Esthar, and Galbadia were all pursuing him. Keeping him out of danger wouldn't be a simple task.
Seifer elbowed Quistis and Zell out of the way so he could lean against the counter. "What is it that President Krier wants with the weapon anyway? I mean, sure, you think he wants to use it to kill Rinoa and Hyne but...isn't that what we're going to do with it, too? Why not let him have it? Let him do the dirty work."
"Man! Quit saying that! We're not going to kill Rinoa!" Zell said. "Wasn't she your girlfriend or something? How can you suggest something like that?"
"When it comes down to it," Dr. Shipey said softly, "Hyne is Rinoa. You might not have a choice."
The grim prediction made Seifer roll his eyes, and he made no move to respond to Zell's accusation that he was advocating the murder of his ex-girlfriend. Quistis couldn't manage to be so nonchalant, as the thought prodded a nagging uncertainty at the back of her mind. Sometimes, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out where their path was leading, knowing what must lie at the end. What kind of world could be born from the blood and tears of someone as innocent as Rinoa Heartilly?
Raijin went back to tending his meal, and in the ensuing silence Quistis put as much of the table between her and Seifer as possible.
"How's the translation coming?" Zell asked, bravely trodding through the heavy uncertainty gripping the team.
"I should be done with it this time tomorrow. It's the legend of Hyne's return, maybe even the same one that Jorgan E'Lizul heard in Trabia from Vascaroon."
"Anything helpful?
Shipey shrugged. "Nothing about the weapon, exactly."
"You said there were ruins here in Dollet," Quistis said, figuring that keeping active might be their best option.
"Yes. In the catacombs." He nodded. "During ancient times, there was a plague that swept through Dollet. They ran out of burial space in the city, so they dug out tunnels underneath it. They remained in use for a few hundred years, and there's supposed to be the occasional bit of Centran text with the burials and a few murals that contain untranslated writing. Most of it is probably pedestrian, names and will-whishes. But there's quite a lot of it down there. Could be something useful."
"How do we get in?" Quistis wasn't all that pleased to hear they were heading into another tomb, but that was the unfortunate thing about ancient people: all of them were dead.
"There's supposed to be quite a few entrances and exits. But I don't know where they're at. I've never been to Dollet before."
"This city will probably be occupied by the end of the week," Quistis said. "We'll have to find a way in fast."
"Don't worry about it." Seifer walked over to where Quistis was standing and stood in her personal space. "I can find a way in. I've got connections."
"Your connections probably want to kill you."
"Then they should be pleased to escort me into a tomb."
She rolled her eyes.
"Someone has to stay with Dr. Shipey. We can't leave him alone." Guarding the professor would be a perfect job for someone with knight experience. And it would keep him, and most importantly his lips, far away from her.
"Oh! That's my job, ya know!"
"You don't always have to stay behind Raijin..."
"No. It's okay. I'm happy to, ya know?" He grinned and bent over to pull something out of the oven covered in foil, then pulled the covering off and poured his sauce from the stove top over the meal. Quistis was reluctant to give in, but the smell of his cooking weakened her resolve. She couldn't refuse him.
"Okay. Fine. Raijin, you stay with the professor. The rest of us will try to find a way into the catacombs come daybreak."
Still persisting in remaining uncomfortably close, Seifer sat down next to Quistis to eat dinner. Throughout the entire meal, she couldn't make eye contact will Zell, and she jumped whenever Seifer's arm brushed hers.
Calm down, she soothed herself. Don't fall apart.
But she couldn't help it. She didn't know how to act around him now. She couldn't ignore him completely; he was part of the team and impossible to give the cold shoulder to. But she was afraid to respond to his bullying and sarcasm. What if it happened again? She might loose her temper, or he might try and...oh no. Her face grew warm and she lifted her large glass of water to drink and hide her blush.
The moment her plate was clean, she bolted out of the kitchen and barricaded herself in the bathroom for the long shower she'd promised herself.
Stress. It had to be the stress.
Tomorrow, they'd go together again into a dark and dreary pit of death. It would extinguish all this unexpected heat that was burning in her chest, and she would pull herself back together again.