Author's notes: Oh. My. God. I am so, so sorry it took this long to get a new chapter up! There's really no excuse for me, but, well, things have not been exactly a barrel of sunshine and happiness this past year, and they still aren't (I want to know who stole my happiness barrel), but I've made you guys wait so long for a new chapter, so...I'm posting one! I've restarted this chapter from scratch three times, gradually adding on to this final draft throughout the past year. Therefore...It's all kinds of choppy and disjointed. (You can all start the throwing of the pointy objects at me now. I won't dodge too much; I'm slow.)

But for those of you who will be reading this chapter, regardless of if you'll review, thank you so much for coming back after a year (and more) of waiting. And to everyone who emailed me asking if I had died or when I was going to update the story...I love you all, too. I've made a pact with myself not to start up any multi-chaptered fanfiction until Succession of Witches is finished, so I'm not about to let this story die. (I love Zell too much.) But I'll...shut up now. Not too many warnings or anything for this chapter: there's bad language, some innuendo on Irvine's part, and the choppiness mentioned before. And again...just thanks so much to everyone who's read, or emailed, or reviewed, or fanarted...It all means a lot to me, really.

Succession of Witches
Chapter 14—Fisherman's Horizon

"Squall! This is Cid! Get up here immediately! We're about to—"

The world shook, or, more appropriately, the Garden shook, knocking both Squall and I off our feet. I landed on my side, my elbow slamming painfully against the floor. Letting out a quick bark of pain, I rolled over, instinctively shielding myself from whatever happened to be attacking us. What was big enough to shake the Garden like this?

"Zell—" Squall stumbled towards me, losing his balance and falling forwards onto his face.

The Garden was still shaking, and something was screeching; a horrible, metal-grating-against-metal kind of screech. I wanted to cover my ears, but my arm hurt too bad to move; jolts of numbing pain shot from my elbow. When I moved my uninjured arm down and grasped it with my hand it felt slick and sticky. I tried to turn towards Squall; he was on all fours, holding his head in his arms and cursing. The screeching had lessened somewhat but large splashes were erupting on all sides of the Garden. Was it crumbling?

What in Hyne's name had attacked us? Was it…Was it more missiles?

Shit.

"Squall!" I called, crawling over to him, cradling my arm to my chest. He didn't look up at me, didn't acknowledge me at all. "Squall, you okay?"

All I got in response was a moan and a few choice curse words. I reached out a trembling hand, grabbing his shoulder lightly, in case he was injured.

Jerking under my touch, Squall finally looked up at me, blood dribbling into his eyes from a seeping gash on his forehead. I grimaced at the wound, noticing the forehead-shaped red splatter on the floor. "I'm fine," he grumbled, trying hard to keep his voice even; his bottom lip was trembling with the effort of ignoring his pain.

"What happened?" I asked, unwilling to let go of his shoulder. At the moment, he was my anchor, all that was keeping me from freaking out. I didn't know what had happened, or if it was over or not. But all that was keeping my panic at bay was the irrational notion that somehow holding on to Squall would prevent it from happening again. You know, kind of like in those slasher flicks, when people seem to think they'll be safer in groups. If there was some giant psycho murderer lurking outside Garden, tearing it to pieces, then I didn't want to be alone by any stretch of the imagination; I wanted human contact.

Either Squall was thinking the same thing, or he was just in too much pain to care, because he didn't try to remove my hand. Instead, he actually reached out to me, grabbing onto my uninjured arm (I mentally thanked him for that) and using me as leverage, got shakily to his feet. I followed after him, continuing to hold onto his wrist even after I had used it to pull myself up. I looked around us, trying to spot some sign of what had happened. There was nothing; just the fading of panicked screams and pained moans coming from all sides. The splashing had dulled down some, and the screeching was gone completely.

"We should get up to the third floor. Cid…" Squall scrunched up his face, obviously trying to get his thoughts in order. He wasn't showing it, but I could tell he was just as rattled as I was. His skin felt clammy where I was holding him. "He called us, didn't he?" Squall asked at last, turning to me for confirmation. "Right before…"

"I don't know," I said, thankful that my voice wasn't shaking all that much. Honestly, I couldn't remember. I had been so lost in my thoughts when it happened that I wouldn't have been able to tell anything had gone wrong at all were it not for the pain in my elbow.

"We should try to find him, anyway," Squall mumbled, freeing his hand from my grip only to quickly grab my wrist in turn. That being said, Squall tugged me forward, almost causing the both of us to fall back over. "He's probably on the third floor. Zell—"

"Squall Leonhart, please report to the third floor immediately!"

"I guess you're right," I said, sighing as he proceeded to ignore me, dragging us both over to the elevator; it was remarkable the thing was even still working.

It wasn't until we were on the second elevator, the one that led up to the Garden's control room, that Squall realized he still had a hold of my wrist. In his haste to lose the physical contact, he practically threw my hand away from him and out of his grasp. My elbow hurt too much for me to feel offended.

"Squall, thank Hyne," Cid greeted as we stepped off the elevator. The Headmaster bustled over to us, grabbing Squall by the arm and leading him forward, seemingly oblivious to the blood practically coating the SeeD's face. Ignoring me completely, Cid dragged Squall over to the giant glass window that stretched from one side of the control room to the other. With a gesture of the arm that clearly read, "Just look at this," Cid removed his hold on Squall and took a step back, his eyes fixed on the SeeD, waiting for his response.

I wanted so badly to step forward, to look with Squall at whatever lay beyond that plane of glass, yet my feet held me in place. It was easy when it was just Squall or Irvine, but when I was around anyone else the other Zell had known, I always froze up, worrying about what I needed to say or do. This time it was no different; I watched Cid and this other woman—I had been told her name earlier, but for the life of me couldn't remember—from the corner of my eye even as I diverted most of my attention to Squall, hoping to divulge something from his reaction. Unfortunately for me, there was no such thing.

Completely calm, Squall turned back around to Cid, obviously having had his fill of what lay beyond the window. "What are your orders, Headmaster?" he asked; his voice utterly devoid of emotion. Even as I envied him his composure, I hated him for it.

No one had any right to sound that much like a robot.

A strange expression flickered across Cid's face, gone almost as soon as I had noticed it, and his face soon shifted back into an easy, paternal smile. "I think it would be best if we apologize as soon as possible, don't you?" If he thought he was going to get a response out of Squall, he was horribly wrong. "I want you to take your team and head straight out to find the mayor. There, you will apologize most profusely on behalf of SeeD, Garden, and Balamb. You will offer our services in any manner the mayor might see fit. Then, you will report back to me."

Squall straightened up, the orders having been eaten up by his starving, ice-blue eyes. Saluting, Squall uttered a sharp, "Yes, sir," and pivoted, walking straight past me without even sparing me a glance. Was he that upset that I had touched him? Tch.

Once again, I felt the overwhelming urge to look out that window; it was merely a few feet away from me, after all. All I had to do was—

"Zell."

I turned quickly, hurrying ungainly in my embarrassment. If Squall hadn't called my name, how long would I have stood there, staring like a moron? "Sorry," I mumbled as I caught up with him, moving onto the elevator.

Squall ignored me, flipping the switch that would take us down to what used to be Cid's office. Irvine was waiting for us as soon as we stepped off the elevator.

"So," he said, tipping his hat up and away from his eyes; an ugly purple bruise was forming on his left cheekbone, "how many Behemoths were there?"

"What?" I asked, wincing as I bumped my elbow on the railing of the first elevator.

"I mean, I figure there had to be more than one, y'know. As mean as the buggers are, I don't think they can exactly damage the Garden that much on their own." Irvine smiled roguishly at me, fully aware that his attempt to lighten the mood was failing miserably. "So what really—Holy fuck! Squall, what the hell happened to you?" Apparently, Irvine had only just noticed Squall's slowly congealing face paint.

"He hit his head," I answered for him, leading the way onto the second elevator and pressing the button for the first floor as soon as the other two had boarded.

"Well, shit," Irvine rubbed at his own forehead, in precisely the same spot Squall's gash was located. "Looks like you really don't get a break when it comes to head wounds, huh?"

At that, Squall shot Irvine a glare, and I remembered what the cowboy had said about Squall hating him. It looked like he might have been right after all. Well, maybe if Squall could actually feel hate. Seeing how he had reacted in the control room, I highly doubted it. And that reminded me…

"Squall, what happened?" I asked. "I mean, with the Garden…"

"We crashed," the SeeD said simply, almost shrugging.

"No shit," Irvine said, chuckling to himself, "And here I thought the thing was morphin' again. Y'know, first aquatic travel, then robot form. Like that show. What was that show, Zell?"

I could almost hear Squall grinding his teeth, "...into a city," he grumbled, looking away from both of us and crossing his arms over his chest.

Wait, had I heard him right?

"Into a what?" Irvine demanded, the smile vanishing from his face.

"A city," Squall answered, still refusing to look at either of us, "The Garden crashed into a city."

"What the fuck's a city doin' in the middle of the ocean?"

I had to hand it to Irvine; no one could vocalize the matter at hand quite as articulately as he.

She said her name was Vanna, and though I got the impression that that was not her real name, I knew that was all I was probably gonna get out of her. She walked stiffly in front of me, grudgingly resigned to the task at hand. I knew I couldn't really blame her; I'd be acting exactly the same in her shoes, but she was still really pissing me off.

I mean, hey, it wasn't my idea to lug her around Timber in search of Irvine and Seifer. Nope, that little gem belongs solely to one Snap Canta. Tch. This whole situation was skewed. For one, the angry little broad oh-so-happily accompanying me just did not believe that we were SeeD. No matter what Snap and I had told her, she wouldn't believe us till we showed her the paper print-outs of our orders. Which was probably really smart on her part, but very annoying for the rest of us.

On top of that, I was left combing the city for our teammates while Snap played kidnapper with that unconscious Nida kid. Hyne, that had been something to see. When Vanna had refused to cooperate with us, Snap had gone all psycho-uber-SeeD again and snatched up Nida, relating in oh-so-many words that the drunk'd be in much worse shape should Vanna not comply. And that had shut her up quick enough.

Really? Snap could be a creepy bastard when he wanted to. It just made me glad he had decided to go along with this whole thing; having Snap mad at you is, like, right on par with being trapped in a Malboro stampede. Not. Fucking. Fun.

So where was I? Oh, yeah, the whole shit-tastic situation bit. Woohoo.

It was starting to get dark out, and we had yet to find Irvine and Seifer; as far as I was concerned, I had seen enough of Timber to last me a lifetime. Hyne, and I had thought Balamb was boring.

"Here," Vanna stopped suddenly, drawing me out of my bitter musings.

We stood in front of a ramshackle old building. Or, well, calling it a building was probably much too kind; it was more like four sheets of rusted tin leaning up against each other, with a fifth placed on top to act as some vain rain-deterrent.

Was she kidding?

"What's here?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Looking as if she was only just barely hanging onto her last shred of patience, Vanna sighed and replied, "Your friends."

"Excuse me?" What were they doing? Watching bum fights?

"The woman at the newsstand said she had seen them talking with Old Norman, and this is where Old Norman lives."

Old Norman? She could not be serious.

"Okaaay…So, now what? Doesn't look like anyone's home." It didn't look like anyone had been home for a long, long time.

"Why don't you knock and find out?" Vanna asked, grinning smugly, one tiny hand propped up on a hip.

"On what?" I grunted, "Where's the door?"

"Hyne, why do I even bother?" she sighed dramatically and turned towards the building, tapping lightly on the foremost sheet of tin.

After a few moments of silence, I opened my mouth to inform her that I had told her so, when a gruff voice hollered out, "Gimme a minute, will ya?" and the front part of the house swung out on hinges so covered in rust that the resulting noise could only be compared to, at best, a dozen or so cats being beaten to death.

"Yeah, yeah, wha'dya want?" the man I was guessing was none other than Old Norman stepped out into the quickly-dissipating daylight, squinting up at us from under layers of wrinkles. "Well?" he pressed again, looking at first to me and then to Vanna. After a few minutes spent squinting most furiously at her, his face suddenly lit up, and his lips stretched into a smile, revealing blackened gums and greenish, decaying tooth-stumps. "Ah, it's you, child! Come in, come in!" and he turned to allow us in, beckoning us forward with a wave of his hand.

"How lucky I am today!" he chortled, hobbling on in front of us, "To have so many visitors!"

I followed along behind Vanna, my eyes slowly adjusting to the bad light of Norman's dwelling. From what I could make out, it was one room, with a small cot in one corner and a table in another. Against the right wall was a battered old couch that looked as if, at some distant point in time, it could have been yellow. Upon it sat a Knight and cowboy, the one looking noticeably more bored than the other.

"Zell," Seifer addressed me, standing quickly and making room for Norman and Vanna to enter the room.

Norman clucked his tongue, "No, sit, sit! I've got to introduce you boys!" The old man chuckled to himself, turning to Vanna and urging her to sit on the vacant spot on the couch on the other side of Irvine.

"Sir," Seifer protested, "we're kind of in a hurry, so—"

"Nonsense! This'll just take a minute!"

"No, Norman," Vanna interrupted, taking the old man's hand in her own before he could hobble off to grab a chair for me, "It's okay. I believe they're acquainted anyway." And she nodded her head over to me.

"S'that so?" Norman was watching me curiously, scratching at the stubble on his chin. After a few silent moments, he turned to look back at Vanna. "Is he…?"

Vanna shook her head. "He says he's the Sorceress; says these two are SeeD."

Norman's eyes widened, and he turned completely to stare openly at me. Seifer and Irvine were on their feet instantly; even in the dark I could read their expressions clear enough: they didn't know what was going on, but they didn't like where it was leading.

Neither did I. I highly doubted Norman was a member of the Timber team; what was Vanna doing by blowing our cover like that? Did she distrust us so much? Or…were we the ones to have been misled?

The silence seemed to stretch on and on, getting heavier and heavier. I realized they were all waiting for me to do something, say something, but it was like I had been struck dumb.

"Hmph," Norman grunted, nodding quickly once, "thought I'd seen 'im somewhere before." Grinning again, he turned back to Vanna, "You were right to bring him here, but he's not lying; he's th' Sorceress, alright."

Instead of feeling relieved, as I should have, I felt my gut tighten up suddenly, and a panic flared up inside me. I had the almost paranoid suspicion that this man knew full well that I wasn't the Sorceress. And yet, what reason did I have to think something like that? If he knew, he would have told Vanna. That was why she had brought me here, of all places; to be tested by the old man.

But how in the name of Hyne did he know the Sorceress? Had the other me met him before? Should I act like I knew this man?

It was only an instant, but for that moment I couldn't rid myself of the panic, and it felt as if it might consume me entirely.

But then, once again, Seifer came to my rescue, moving as if to step between me and Norman. "How do you know Zell?" he demanded, his calm voice belying the obvious threat in that question.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, young man; I most certainly do not know him. Just saw 'im once, is all." Norman turned to me once again, smiling warmly, kind of like a wolf would before breaking the rabbit's neck, "You were in Galbadia fer training, I think," he scratched at his chin again. "A year or so ago, I reckon; it was right after the old Sorceress had named you her heir and they were having that big ceremony. Mah daughter had sent me a ticket to come and see th' parade."

I tried to think of what to say, but all I could do was nod vaguely, looking away from his watery gray eyes.

"Well," Irvine said, breaking the silence that I had once again let fall, "I dunno about you guys, but I don't know what the hell's goin' on." Righting his hat on his head and straightening his duster, he looked over to me, "But I guess we should probably be heading back, am I right?" When I nodded, he turned to Norman, smiling amiably. "Well, Norman, it was nice chattin' with you and all, but, well, business comes first, right?"

"Of course," Norman laughed, patting him on the arm, "But you'll have to come back an' see me sometime," without any further prodding he was herding us towards the door, all but shooing us out. He turned to smile at Vanna, who was the last to leave. "You take care now, y'hear? And come and see an old man more often, girl. You know I don't get out as much as I used to." And then the two of them laughed, Vanna waving away his comment.

The whole thing was just so utterly bizarre I almost believed it, but then Norman turned to me again, smiling his wolf smile, and it felt like my heart dropped way down into the pit of my stomach. And it hit me again that he knew the whole thing was a farce, and maybe Vanna knew, too. Maybe the whole thing was just one big goddamn game and they were only toying with me. Any minute now, and they were going to turn and yell, Psyche! You really think you had us fooled, Zell? and then they would laugh their fake laugh and—

"Hey, Zell! Ya coming?" Irvine and Seiferhad already started walking, having left Vanna and I behind with Norman.

Nodding quickly, startled, I ran to catch up with them, unable to explain to myself why I was being so paranoid all of sudden, or why I couldn't entirely wipe away my fears as mere paranoia.

Well, then again, when you took into consideration how fucked over my whole situation was anyway, maybe it wasn't all that strange.

Or maybe I was just crazy.

Like that one…poet…guy. The one that said that thing about the butterfly; how he dreamed he was one, and then became one, or he realized he wasn't dreaming, or, well, it had something to do with him and a butterfly and the two of 'em, like, switching places and stuff, only not really because he was still dreaming or—

Hell, the point is, how am I supposed to know if I'm crazy or not? Like, what if this whole thing is bullshit and I really am the Sorceress, but I'm just too nutso to realize it? Like the butterfly guy.

But, if this was a dream, it was a damn convincing one.

As it turned out, Fisherman's Horizon was less of a city amidst the ocean, but rather a tiny, artificial island of mechanics, mostly. Odd sheets of black-greased metal stood out at precarious angles for no apparent reason whatsoever; hard metal grating formed the majority of the walkways, until you actually got down into the inhabited part of FH—that's what the locals called it, anyway—where the ground was mostly earth, with rust-covered, skeletal train tracks rising up from it. Makeshift bridges branched off in every direction; planks of wood or tin could lead one up a few levels, or far out into the water, where a houseboat might be docked. The entire place was like…a garbage barge, really. Everything was old and rusted and piled together in such a senseless way that the entire city seemed accidental. But then, once you hit its center…

"Sweet Hyne," Irvine whispered, his hand moving up to shield his eyes from the glare. "What the hell is it?"

Predictably, there was no answer from Squall; our squad leader merely walked on, reaching the long walkway leading down to the mayor's house in the center of the…giant, mirrored…bowl.

"It looks like one of those solar-power things," I guessed haphazardly, watching Squall with one eye while I tried to figure out the mirror-bowl with the other.

Irvine nodded, "I bet yer right," he agreed. "They had windmills, too, y'know. Must be a whole nest of natural energy right here."

Giving the mirrors one last glance, I headed on after Squall, running my hands along the guardrails on either side of the walkway, I found my way by touch, having had to close my eyes for fear of getting blinded. I could understand the implications of living in the center of this thing if it really was a power source, but if it was just decoration, what the hell was the mayor thinking?

Well, maybe that was giving him too much credit. After being bustled into his house by a less-than-welcoming blonde woman, the three of us were crowed into the mayor's upstairs "office." The guy sat across from us, sitting cross-legged in a pineapple-design T-shirt, green shorts, and sandals. He grinned a strained grin, and introduced himself. "My name is Dobe, and I understand you are SeeDs."

How the word had gotten to him so fast, I didn't know, but our arrival didn't seem to surprise him very much.

"Sir," Squall began, saluting him, "We've come to apologize for," and here Squall paused, for just the slightest of moments, "crashing our Garden into your city."

"Yes, yes," Dobe waved his words away, "Apology accepted. Now tell me, how soon can you leave?"

Irvine fidgeted beside me, and I knew he did not like the short tone the mayor had suddenly taken with us. Even Squall seemed perturbed, and his next words were far more icy and robotic than usual. "We don't know how long it will take to fix the Garden but—"

"Oh, don't worry about that; we'll be supplying as many mechanics as you need to get you out of here as soon as possible. As soon as you give the go-ahead, my men are prepared to begin work immediately."

"Wha—" Squall didn't even have a chance.

"I don't mean to be rude," Dobe interrupted, "But we really don't like your kind here."

"Our kind?" Oh, Squall was getting angry now.

"You know, murderers," and Dobe said it so matter-of-factly that I almost missed the connotation of the last word completely.

"Murderers?" Squall repeated, his hands fisted at his sides, his back gone rigid. "We are SeeD, and SeeD are not—"

"You're mercenaries; bought by the highest bidder to come through and exterminate what they want exterminated. I know good and well what SeeD is."

And the thing was, Dobe wasn't even being belligerent; everything he was saying he said in a normal tone, as if he were speaking about the weather or what he was having for supper. He was calling us murderers in a way that wasn't accusatory, but more…as if it was proven, obvious fact.

What the hell was his problem?

Squall stood silent for a few moments, his head bowed and his eyes were downcast, though his fists shook with anger. "We will need to report to the headmaster," he said at last, his voice as strained as Dobe's smile had been earlier, "before we can okay the entrance of your mechanics into Garden."

"Sounds good, then," Dobe nodded to us, indicating we could leave.

So we did, as fast as we could without running, and as soon as we were outside:

"The nerve of that guy!" Irvine growled, turning back to glare at the ramshackle house.

Despite the anger he had shown inside, Squall ignored us, making his way back up the walkway.

Irvine turned to me, jerking his head the direction of Squall and quirking an eyebrow. I shook my head in reply; I didn't understand the guy, either.

Irvine sighed and removed his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow. "It's because he lives in the middle of a fucking toaster oven," he mumbled. "Fries his brain," and at that, Irvine twirled his finger in a circle besidehis temple, letting out at sharp whistle to further indicate how crazy he thought Dobe was.

I tried my best not to snicker and mounted the walkway, once again closing my eyes to the sun. "I don't know what his problem is," I started, "But the bastard sure likes his pineapple."

"Hyne, that was the worst shirt ever," Irvine grumbled from behind me.

I started to laugh, and opened my mouth to retort with a scathing remark about Dobe's fashion sense when a shout of alarm echoed down into the mirror-bowl. The metallic rainfall of boots on grating announced the man's presence long before his repeated cry of, "Galbadians!"

The three of us froze, moving to the side to let the hysteric man pass. At my back, Irvine mumbled a quiet, "What in the…"

Squinting against the harsh light, I turned to look up at Squall, trying to gauge his reaction. Judging by the man's panic, I took it the Galbadians weren't here on exactly friendly terms. Were they here for us? Of course they were; they had to be. But…how had they caught up to us so quickly?

"What do we do now, Squall?" Irvine asked suddenly, moving closer to us.

"It's…not our concern," Squall grumbled. "He said he didn't want any trouble out of us, right?"

"But… Shit, Squall, you know they came here for us," Irvine protested.

From the direction of the mayor's house a door slammed, followed by a quick shout of "Dobe!" The light all but blinded me as I struggled to see what was happening.

"I think something's wrong," I mumbled, pushing past Irvine to make my way back down the walkway.

"Hey Zell, wait up!" and Irvine and Squall were right on my tail. Waiting for us at the end of the walkway was none other than the blonde woman from before.

"This is all your fault," she accused, jumping at us as soon as we were in earshot. "You see what happens when we get involved with you people?"

"Dammit, lady," obviously, Irvine didn't care much for patience, "we haven't even been here thirty minutes and you call that 'being involved'?"

"Where's Dobe?" Squall cut in, shooting Irvine a mean look. Irvine merely glared right back. Neither of them were too happy with the other at the moment.

The woman shifted in place, looking fretfully back over her shoulder. "He went after them, to try and talk to them. He said there's always a chance to resolve things peacefully and—"

Squall cursed loudly, abruptly turning and storming away. The woman watched him with wide, suddenly frightened eyes. "Don't you dare do anything!" she shouted after him. "We do things our own way here! We don't want your bloodshed!"

Our bloodshed. Shit, as if we held the copyright or something.

"Fuck," Irvine tapped his foot in impatience, looking from the woman, to Squall's retreating form, then back again. "This is ridiculous!" he yelled at last, throwing his arms into the air. "Zell?"

I was already ahead of him, following after Squall. "He's going to get himself killed if we just stand around here." I wasn't sure exactly what I planned to do to prevent that, but I knew I had to do something. Dobe had been a complete asshole, but I'd be something even worse if I just left him to the Galbadians. He was trying to help his people, after all, and even if his method was sure to fail, he was still trying, and risking himself in the process. There was something noble in that, and I think Squall might have realized that, too.

And, well, maybe we were murderers. But…but that didn't make what we did meaningless, did it? Squall and Irvine could justify it all they wanted, but in the end, they killed people for money. Sure, they were killing bad people, but there's really no distinction in murder, is there? But by degrading their existence like he had, didn't Dobe also drag down everyone who ever came into contact with SeeD?

It would be nice if things worked the way Dobe wanted, if there were really no need for SeeD or the Sorceress or any of it, but the fact was, there was a need. And Dobe was a fool for ignoring it.

Squall was waiting for us at the top of the walkway, one of the Galbadian army's robots in pieces at his feet.

"We goin' after him?" Irvine asked, kicking a metal forearm out of his way.

Squall nodded, staring down at his feet. "Yeah," he said.

Nida lay sprawled out on the One Bed, his mouth hung open and a thin trail of saliva glistened its way down his chin. I sat at his feet, poking listlessly at his leg as Seifer and Snap argued with each other. Vanna sat beside me with Irvine on her other side. She sighed, having finally become resigned to the fact that we were, indeed, SeeD. I hadn't totally forgiven her for the stunt with Norman, but now that her hackles weren't raised, she was a pretty decent person; almost the girlwe had first metin the bar.

"Just be glad they're not pissed at you," Irvine said sagely, gesturing to the other two. "That wasn't very smart, you know, that shit you pulled with Norman."

Vanna shrugged, then changed the motion fluidly into a stretch. "I told you guys he's alright. He's been a reliable informant for us the entire time we've been stationed here. Believe me, you can trust him."

Irvine snorted and tipped his hat down over his eyes, laying down on Nida; turning the sleeping man's stomach into a pillow. "Whatever. Jus' wake me when they're done."

Vanna rolled her eyes at him, sighing again in annoyance. She leaned forward, propping her elbows up on her knees and resting her head in her hands; her braid slid down over her shoulder and hung to the side as she turned her head to watch me. "So you're the Sorceress?" she asked. "You're not really what I pictured."

Despite her actions earlier, her words didn't seem too threatening. She still made me feel a bit uneasy. It didn't look like she suspected a thing, but how she looked at me was…weird. I couldn't place it, but it was familiar somehow.

"Well, what were you expecting?" I asked, trying to ignore my slightly bubbling paranoia. "And please don't say a woman."

She smiled, and unlike most of the people I kept meeting, it actually seemed to reach her eyes. "Get that a lot, huh?"

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head, "More than you know."

"Well," she moved her hand up to her lips as if to cover a laugh, or her smile, "You'll be glad to know I wasn't expecting a woman, then. I had heard you were a man, I just…"

"You just what?" I wasn't sure I liked where this was going.

"I guess I was expecting someone more…mature."

Oh, that was wonderful.

"And I'm not mature?"

She giggled, shaking her head, "Not really. You just spent the past ten minutes drawing invisible stick figures on Nida's leg."

Damn, I had been found out.

"So? S'not like there's anything else to do." I pouted, crossing my arms and sticking out my lower lip. I was aware I was only furthering the immature image, but at least I got her to laugh again. Hell, if she liked me, she'd be less likely to question my Sorceress-ness, right? Damn, but I was a crafty devil.

"FINE." Snap growled. "We'll do this your way. But just so you know, I don't trust that…that…" and Snap gestured angrily in Vanna's general direction, "…that brat in the least."

"Brat?" Vanna was on her feet while I grabbed for her arm to hold her back. The last thing we needed was her getting Snap pissed off again.

"Canta," Seifer replied gruffly, "You and I both know the quickest route would be to go straight to their headquarters. And the quicker we get done here…" He trailed off, and Snap glanced quickly over at me. Grudgingly, he nodded.

That's right. The sooner we got done here, the sooner they could deal with me. Their other problem.

Seifer turned to Vanna and I, "I hope that's not a problem for you. I'm sure it's also in your best interest to finish things here as quickly as possible."

Vanna nodded. "It doesn't matter really," she said. "Our HQ or yours. Though," she glanced pointedly around the room, "I can't imagine this place being, well, very secure."

Snap glared. That was really all he needed to do; had he spoken, his anger might have caused someone to spontaneously burst into flames.

"Well, this is great and all," I spoke quickly. As amusing as watching an angry Snap could be, I was getting pretty bored of it. That, and both Irvine and Nida had started to snore. "But shouldn't we, like, be leaving or something?"

"Whatever," Snap sighed, defeated. "Wake up Kid Alcohol and the cowboy. I'll go get the jeep started." So saying, Snap exited the room, mumbling to himself all the way.

I looked to Seifer, to Vanna, and then to the two forms sprawled on the bed. Seeing as how no one else seemed to be taking the initiative, I leaned forward slowly, prodding at Nida's leg. "Yo. Wake up, guy."

"It's not 'guy,'" Vanna scolded, "It's Nida. And if you're going to wake him up, you're going to have to try harder than that; he sleeps like a log." She backed away from the bed, rolling up the sleeves of her baggy sweater. "Now stand back."

"Why?" What was she gonna do? Jump on him?

"I'm going to wake them up." She smiled innocently at me, before barely allowing me time to move out of the way before she cast Water.

As Irvine and Nida struggled amidst the now-drenched sheets of the bed, coughing and spitting what looked like very, very cold water, I inched my way over to Seifer, stopping at his side.

"I changed my mind," I told him, "You can have the bed."

Just the barest tickle of pain as my fist connected with the soldier's jaw, and then he was down, and Sacred was turning me around full-circle, Minotaur raising my leg just enough to catch a second soldier in the side. Every so often, when Squall and Irvine's backs were turned, I could work in a shot or two of Sorceress magic, taking the Galbadians down in my own fashion.

It was strange, but I was getting used to the two playing puppeteer with me. Fighting through the first few scuffles with Sacred and Minotaur acting as my guides had been…awkward. Now, though, I could just barely feel them acting at all.

((we're too smooth for you.))

((IT'S CUZ WE'RE A TEAM!))

My heel smacked into a third soldier's shoulder, bringing him down long enough for Irvine to cast a Fira over my shoulder.

In summary: we were kicking ass.

"Geez," Irvine whined, removing his hat so he could wipe the sweat from his brow. "How many guys did they have to bring? The whole fuckin' continent?"

Squall merely snorted, too busy wiping blood from his gunblade.

"Well, I guess it's nice to know they're not underestimating us anymore," I said, rubbing my knuckles; they were starting to hurt.

"Nice? Don't you mean annoying?" Irvine replaced his hat and stretched.

"We should keep moving," Squall interrupted, brushing past the both of us. Shrugging, Irvine and I moved into step behind him.

"I wonder what benefits come from being in the Galbadian army," Irvine leaned down, throwing his arm around my shoulders and half-leaning against me as we walked. "I mean, it has to be something good, what with them getting their asses handed to them all the time."

I poked him sharply in the side, only to cause him to lean even more heavily on me. Poking him a second time almost had the both of us stumbling to the ground. "Not all the time," I countered. "What about the whole Sorceress-assassination thing? I seem to remember not handing them their asses then."

That got him to let up. "Aww, such a low blow, Dincht. What happened to playing nice?"

I laughed at his mock-hurt expression. "Since when have we ever done that?"

Irvine grinned his best roughish grin. "Well," he said, lowering his voice and leaning down to speak directly into my ear, "if you enjoy playing dirty so much…"

I poked him again and slipped out of the subsequent embrace he tried to catch me in. "Whore," I accused, trying to keep my face as straight as possible.

Up ahead of us, Squall made a noise somewhere between a snort and a cough, and sped up in a vain effort to lose the both of us.

"Such language!" Irvine tittered behind me, clucking his tongue and most likely shaking his head in over-dramatized disapproval.

Had it not been for the gunshots that followed, I might have forgotten entirely about the ordeal with the Galbadians.

"Shit," Irvine cursed as the three of us dropped to our knees and crouched, peeking stealthily over the bridge we had been walking across. Right beneath our feet, Dobe stood shakily facing a red-dressed commanding officer, who was pointing a machine gun most menacingly at him.

"I'm not going to ask a second time," the officer said. "If you don't tell me where Ellone is, we're going to burn this whole goddamn city to the ground."

Squall tensed up beside me, but I didn't take my eyes off the mayor.

"I swear I don't know who you're talking about. No one like that has ever set foot here before!"

I had to hand it to him; despite the current situation, Dobe had still somehow managed to keep calm. Poor bastard was still trying to pull off the pacifism thing.

"Well, that's a pity then, isn't it?" the commanding officer hefted his rifle, aiming it squarely at the center of that bright, pineapple shirt.

"Squall?" Irvine started to stand. "We goin' down there or what?"

Squall started, yanked out of whatever reverie he had slipped into. "Yeah, we are. Gotta keep that fool from getting himself killed."

With that, the three of us jumped directly into the fray, easily taking out the officer. The giant robot that crawled straight out of the ocean, however, was another matter entirely.