12

CHAPTER 12 – THE GARDEN FESTIVAL

The fast setting sun had fallen to just over the outer wall's edge by the time clean-up had effectively concluded. For hours on end, Squall had toiled relentlessly in the company of his comrades, gathering every last fallen soldier, civilian and firearm scattered to and fro across the solar array's diameter. Without any alternative method of ascent out of the gargantuan divot other than the staircases, the procedure of manually hauling the casualties up and out had been a tedious and grueling affair. By the time he and his familiar entourage of four had descended from the central platform, he had elected to split off from them, instead putting his hands to use wherever else he could. It was not long before he had come to regret the decision; with each successive SeeD he lent his assistance to came another round of congratulations for the impromptu speech he had given. The constant out-pour of praise from every direction irritated him to no end, leading him to further ruminate on Xu's prior mention of his reputation going forward.

All the while, he struggled to fathom just what had come over him to make such a bold and uncharacteristic stand against the mayor. He considered if perhaps the long string of days spent in Rinoa's company had inadvertently begun to foster a similar lack of restraint and tact in him. Was it possible that for what discipline he had sought to instill in her during training, a similar degree of her own rebelliousness had begun to rub off on him? No matter the cause, Squall knew such brashness was inexcusable in the field. He had momentarily allowed his tongue to step out of line with his better judgment on pure instinct, a mistake that could have just as easily caused their license of stay to be revoked. That the mayor and his wife had yet to re-emerge from their home to tell them so was the only assurance otherwise, and far from a guarantee.

As he finally surmounted the solar array's lip and peered out over the makeshift streets roughly fifty feet below, he could see the efforts of those assigned to the town proper had not gone to waste. SeeDs and civilians alike cautiously maneuvered about, neither faction daring to encroach too far into the vicinity of the other. Though the railroad tracks they walked upon were still riddled with structural damage that would likely require weeks to fully assess, the casualties had likewise been swept away in the intervening time. So far removed from natural soil of any kind, Squall could safely assume water burial to be Fisherman's Horizon's customary funerary procedure, though had no idea if there existed a designated drop point for such a purpose further along the bridge. Surely the townspeople, ever environmentally acute as they were, would never stoop to disposing of their dead in the local waters which kept them sustained.

He started down the right hand path leading to sea level, finally turning his gaze to the towering Garden docked immediately by the roadside. The familiar blue and silver outer shell remained as stunning as he had ever seen it in the coming twilight, casting a massive shadow over the town's eastern perimeter. Averting his eyes to the second level from whence he had deployed, a pair of large maintenance crane platforms had been erected on either side of the academy's fore. The nearest was presently ascending to the port-side emergency exit hatch, carrying a small contingent of SeeDs upward for re-entry. Feeling the day's fatigue weighing heavily on his aching back, Squall picked up the pace as he neared the bottom of the curving slope. At that moment, he cared for nothing but to hastily devour his sparse evening ration, followed by an early retreat to his dorm.

"'Bout time one o' you guys showed up!"

He stopped in his tracks and craned his neck in the direction of the call. A lone man stood by casually in the shadow cast by the looming academy, his back propped up against one of the many support beams encircling the central structure. Despite the instantly recognizable accent and wavy brown locks, his attire momentarily kept Squall from making a positive identification. He had shed the appropriated Galbadian uniform for an unbuttoned tan plaid shirt hanging open atop his white undershirt. A pair of blue jeans trailed down to his black boots, which were seemingly the only article of clothing to be carried over from the military facade. He could have easily fit the bill for a local resident were it not for the shotgun holstered at his side, hanging precipitously from the bullet belt fastened around his waist.

"Where did you get those?" Squall bluntly asked him.

"Offa the best lookin' stiff I could find," Irvine replied candidly, removing his back from the beam as he began over to him. "Yer crazy if ya think I'm gonna go walkin' around here in that uniform. Sure took yer sweet time gettin' on down here."

"Maybe if someone had stayed to help with the clean-up," Squall irately shot back. "Is there something you want?"

"Jus' somebody to vouch fer my identity," the sharpshooter calmly spoke, swiveling his eyes toward the now descending crane platform. "I'm no student, and I'm sure as hell not passin' fer a civie 'round here with this puppy at my side. So what'dya say? Any chance ya can help me get a room?"

Squall sighed inwardly, but begrudgingly motioned for him to follow as he started back along the tracks. He had been heading for the Garden anyway, and figured a brief detour up to the Headmaster's Office to help get Irvine settled would be simple enough to manage. The two spoke not a word as they traversed the oncoming pedestrian traffic, Squall taking note of the people's still fearful expressions as the sight of his gunblade prompted them to quickly move out of his way. They reached the crane moments after the railed platform touched back down on the ground, and stepped aboard after the three operatives who had been in waiting before their arrival on the scene.

"What happened out there?" Squall finally broke the silence, relegating himself to one of the four corners. "I was sure you three had been caught."

"Well, the short version is we were," Irvine explained, paying little heed to the looks being given to him by the other SeeDs in their midst. "And we jus' barely got outta it by the skin o' our teeth."

"And the long version?" Squall egged him on to elaborate as the crane's hydraulics kicked in and the platform jerked into motion.

"We showed up jus' after they fired on Trabia, an' you'd better believe that set Selphie off. We infiltrated the base, cut the power, and then kinda split up to see what else we could do to slow 'em down."

"What do you mean, you split up?" Squall abruptly cut in.

"I mean we went our separate ways," Irvine obliviously clarified. "Selphie suggested we'd catch a lot more attention if we jus' kept walkin' around joined at the hip. I wasn't too keen on it myself, but… well, with how fired up she was, I wasn't gonna waste my time tryin' to argue."

Squall's heart sunk at the unexpected turn of events that had taken place unbeknownst to him. In the wake of having discovered Selphie's deception, he had explicitly told Zell to keep an eye trained to her at all times. To now learn that his wishes had gone completely ignored did nothing to ease his suspicion of the girl in question. In the event that she were indeed an agent of Galbadia, there was no telling the sort of machinations she could have set in motion in the time she had been allowed to roam the base without surveillance. He sincerely hoped his fears to be completely unfounded, as her unwaveringly cheery and earnest nature seemed to suggest. That Irvine and Zell were still alive at all should have been reason enough to assume so, and yet the existence of the counterfeit Guardian Force remained an issue he could not simply hand-wave away.

"It was Zell who got our cover blown," Irvine went on as the lift continued to rise. "We managed to spring him free, but they fired the missiles. Selphie went berserk and brought the whole place crumbling down on our heads. We barely made it up topside, and that's about where she went catatonic…"


"I can't…" she sobbed in a broken voice. "I just… I don't know what to do anymore! It's over… everything's over… Dad… I really… really wanted to see you again… but it was all for nothing… I'm…"

Irvine held fast to Selphie's shoulder just as Zell did her wrist whilst she proceeded to break down, only to have both of their grips forcibly shaken free by the monstrous blast that followed. The ground beneath his feet shook violently, forcing him to redirect his hand to the concrete to stabilize himself. He raised his head up the next moment, and quickly craned his neck backward to follow Zell's line of sight. Even with the infrared shielding provided by his helmet's visor, the intensity of the flames billowing from the ignited fuel tank across the compound was nearly blinding. The blaze was quick to spread, soon consuming all in its immediate vicinity as it slithered onward toward the central complex. Time slowed to a crawl as the adrenaline fired through his veins. He recognized that with each second wasted, any possibility of their escape slipped further out of reach.

He scanned the immediate area frantically, his eyes darting every which way within the span of what must have only been two seconds. The transport they had taken in had been utterly demolished, its smoldering remains resting beside the obliterated chain link fence where they had left it, in the company of a dozen or so armored iron-clad tanks. A quick scan further along the trail of wreckage led his gaze to a pair parked just inside the compound entryway, which from a distance appeared still fit to function. Tunnel vision instantly set in, his focus unwavering from what at that very moment appeared to be their only hope for salvation. The next earth-shattering tremor from behind was as a starting gun to his ears. He promptly swept the distraught Selphie up into his arms without a second thought, the severed halves of her nunchaku falling from her hands as he did so, and started blazing a trail across the divide.

The ensuing racket of explosions and crumbling architecture continued unabated all the while. Irvine dared not look back for a moment, even to assure himself that Zell had broken free from his own transfixed stare and begun to follow behind. Only as he circled to the back of the tank and slowed before the rear entry hatch did he catch sight of the blonde head of hair rounding the corner after him. He threw open the latch with one hand and ducked inside, setting Selphie down in the nearest open seat.

"Get her buckled up!" he shouted back to Zell as he raced forward into the cockpit. Though Irvine had no prior first-hand experience piloting this particular model of transport, his many lectures at Galbadia Garden had included a seminar dedicated entirely to the operational procedures of virtually every military vehicle in the army's reserve. He hastily plopped himself into the driver's seat, buckled his own safety belt, and engaged the ignition with a single button press. The six turbine engines arrayed on either side of the tank whirred to life, barely discernible against the cataclysmic sonic backdrop.

"Hold on to something!" he hollered back, flooring the accelerator. The iron-clad abruptly lurched forward on command, Irvine veering sharply to the left so as to direct it toward the open gateway. Its treads easily surmounted what fallen debris and corpses alike impeded its path, albeit at a laborious pace. For as bulky as the artillery was, he could not reasonably expect it to move any faster, no matter how desperately he stomped on the gas pedal. The ground shook as the ongoing explosions intensified, flames billowing seemingly from all sides through the narrow front view-port. The compound entrance drew ever closer, the way ahead cleared for them courtesy of Zell's Guardian Force. All that mattered now was the ever shrinking window of opportunity to reach it.

C'mon, move!

The vehicle's nose had just barely cleared the archway when the largest eruption of all sounded from behind. Instantly, Irvine's frenzied demand for an increase in speed was answered tenfold. In that moment, he recalled the manner in which they had made their daring escape from the D-District Prison that very same morning, when they had shot forth from the hangar bay with the dual explosions of two RPGs licking at their rear tires. He preemptively let go of the steering controls, instinctively knowing the blast to follow would be of another magnitude entirely. He gripped hard on the chair's armrests, held in place only by his safety belt as the iron-clad was thrust forward to meet the awaiting desert plains, and began to tumble. Heaven and earth switched positions roughly a dozen times within the span of mere seconds, leaving Irvine in a state of extreme disorientation and nausea as he was violently jerked every which way. Steel sickeningly screeched and crunched all the while, serving to render the cries of panic to his rear virtually unintelligible.

After what felt like a long and torturous eternity, the ruined iron-clad finally wobbled to a rest upside down. His vision dazed and spinning, Irvine fumbled all about his body with one hand for the button to release his safety belt. He found it after a moment, only to be inelegantly dropped headfirst onto the transport's roof as it came free. With the brunt of the impact taken by his helmet, he quickly righted himself and scanned his eyes over the demolished cockpit, finding his shotgun resting several feet from his side. He seized the weapon, re-holstered it, and turned his attention to his comrades hanging upside down from their own seats to his rear. He reached up to assist Zell, whose head was afforded no protection from a similar fall on account of his helmet having been confiscated following his capture. The next moment, a torrent of vomit came spewing out of his gullet, splattering all over Irvine's boots before he could step back.

"S-sorry," he groaned as the last of the bile trickled from his lips to the floor.

Irvine did not respond, and simply reached up to unlatch his belt for him. That they had survived at all was a feat too miraculous for him to become hung up on such a thing. Once Zell was safely on the ground, taking great pains to maneuver his feet from touching down on the puddle, the pair proceeded over to Selphie. The girl spoke not a word as they helped her down, appearing neither on the verge of throwing up, nor any more responsive than she had been previously. She absentmindedly swiveled her visor back and forth between the two of them, before her gaze finally settled upon her own feet. Irvine opened his mouth to offer some form of encouragement, but stopped as he realized there was nothing he could possibly say to console her.

In the span of a single day, she had been rendered helpless to avert the destruction of both her former and current homes, and very likely the deaths of many she held dear. Where Balamb Garden was concerned, they could only hope that they had managed to buy Squall's team enough time to return and organize an evacuation. Any ability to influence the situation was now completely out of their hands. For the time being, they could do nothing but seek to find some manner of passage back to civilization. With aching body and heavy heart, he maneuvered himself to the iron-clad's rear, threw open the hatch, and took the first step out onto the wreckage-strewn, smog-covered sands of the desert.


"After that, we jus' started walkin'," Irvine continued as he stepped through the emergency exit and into the second floor corridor. "Didn't really have much of a clue where we were headin', though. The smog was so dense, ya couldn't see the stars to figure out where north was. The next day we got picked up by the procession headin' fer this place. I loaned my old helmet to Zell – figured no one'd be lookin' fer my face – an' we passed ourselves off as a few survivors. An' here I figured they'd have the decency to ship us back to Deling City on account o' what we'd jus' been through."

"No such luck, huh?" Squall presumed, turning to lead the way along the hall.

"Nope. They had their orders, an' it wasn't like we were missin' limbs or anythin'. So, we made our way down an' 'round the coast to Timber, dropped off a buncha troops there, an' then started over the bridge. The three o' us jus' stuck together through it all. Me an' Zell eventually started tryin' to come up with some ideas of how to give 'em the slip. An' Selphie… well, she just kept to herself the whole time. Wouldn't say a word to anyone. Before, back on the stage… that was the first time I've seen her actin' like her usual self in the last two weeks."

Squall pondered over the details of the sharpshooter's account as they crossed the connecting walkway to the central pillar and stepped aboard the elevator. That Selphie had supposedly shown such genuine remorse was the most encouraging sign he had to go off of to assume she held no ulterior motive after all. Indeed, there could have been a multitude of explanations for how she had gotten a hold of her Guardian Force sphere; that it happened to bear the Galbadian insignia as opposed to SeeD's was the only definitive lead he had been provided. Short of confronting her about it directly, there was no way to know for sure just how it had come into her possession. Ultimately, it was the sphere's existence itself which perturbed him the most, and without any idea as to the circumstances of its creation, he had reasonably assumed it to have come directly from the army. Assuming it had however, the question was then raised as to why they had never received reports of Galbadia having begun supplying its own soldiers with the technology.

None of this makes any sense…

He brushed the matter aside as the lift reached the twentieth floor, and stepped out into the central antechamber with Irvine in tow. He led the way into the hall, taking note of the congregation of SeeDs and who he assumed to be the technicians of Fisherman's Horizon gathered atop the control center, and cut diagonally across the red carpeting to the Headmaster's Office. He rapped on the door twice, and waited several seconds until it swung ajar. To his surprise, it was not Cid standing on the opposite side of the frame.

"Excellent timing as usual," Xu muttered after a brief pause. "We were actually just about to send out a call over the intercom for you."

Just perfect… what did I do, now?

"I'm only here to help get him settled," Squall responded, gesturing to Irvine at his side. "He's going to need a room. Is the headmaster in?"

His question was promptly answered as Cid rounded the corner to peer over the commandant's shoulder. As his bespectacled eyes trailed away from Squall to his companion, they suddenly widened with surprise.

"Irvine!" he blurted out, motioning with one hand for Xu to clear the doorframe. She obliged, allowing the elderly man to pass on by and take the sharpshooter's hand in his own.

"It's good to see you well after so long, sir," he greeted him as they shook. "And… well, my condolences about everything. I know the situation must be harder on you than anyone else."

Beyond the peculiarity of Irvine's enunciation suddenly becoming tighter and more formal, that he could speak to Cid with such a degree of implied familiarity was what truly caught Squall off guard. That his words suggested he did in fact know of Edea's identity was less surprising with the benefit of hindsight, but all the same reminded him that Selphie was not the only enigma within his immediate circle of comrades.

"Thank you," Cid graciously accepted. "But I'm fine, really. More importantly, how did you make your way out here?"

"It's a long story, but for the moment I'd be very appreciative if you could arrange for me to have a place to sleep in the dorms."

"Of course," the kindly man assured him. "But before that… could you please wait out here for just a few moments? There's something Xu and I would like to discuss with Squall in private."

A lump caught in Squall's throat at the mention of his name. He understood that a private meeting with the headmaster and commandant alone could only mean trouble for his standing as a SeeD. Was this in some way related to his stand-off with the mayor? Surely it had to be to have come so quickly afterward. His mind swirled in confusion as he obligingly stepped into the office, speculating as to just what kind of punishment he would be faced with. Xu closed the door behind him as Cid retreated to his mahogany desk by the window.

"Please," the headmaster began calmly, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "Have a seat."

Squall obeyed the formality as though it were a direct order from his superior officer, sinking into the plush cushioning just as his heart did into his stomach.

"There's no need to be anxious," Cid reassured him as Xu circled around to stand by the side of the desk. "You haven't done anything wrong. Quite the contrary, in fact. I dare say yours is a case without precedent in the history of this organization."

"I don't understand, sir," Squall eked out, the heavy weight refusing to relieve itself from his shoulders.

"Of course not," the man acceded. "Xu, perhaps you'd like to be the one to explain for him?"

Squall shifted his gaze to the commandant, and briefly noticed her face take on a fleeting expression of surprise for having been placed on the spot. Like a mirage, it vanished a split-second later, her features reverting to their stoic norm.

"As you might be aware, this is my third and final year acting as commandant," she began. "And that it's customary for each outgoing recipient of the title to name a successor well in advance, so as to offer them preparatory training and guidance for when it comes time to pass the torch."

"You can't be serious."

Squall's eyes bulged at the ludicrous prospect, his mind utterly dumbfounded. He was so beside himself at the notion that it could be anything but an elaborate joke that it took him a moment to realize he had once again unwittingly spoken his thoughts aloud.

"Indeed, it would make you the youngest of the five operatives to ever hold the rank by two years," Headmaster Cid interjected. "But as I said, yours is a very unique case. You have accomplished more in a single month than many operatives could hope to across their entire careers."

Squall remained completely mute, knowing he could not possibly muster an argument against the man in his present state of bafflement even if he wished to.

"Traditionally, the three key components to look for when determining a potential successor are bravery, wit, and the ability to inspire confidence in one's subordinates," Xu continued in his stead. "You proved your bravery to me the day you returned from Galbadia to save us all from the missiles. And from what Quistis told me about the way in which you managed to outsmart Norg, it seems you've got wit to spare. And now today, after that speech… well, I already told you what I thought, and I stand by it. Despite your relative inexperience in the field, you've proven yourself to be the most promising candidate I could hope for."

"S-surely there has to be someone else," he finally spoke up, instinctively rising up out of his chair. "Someone with that kind of experience under their belt already. What about Quistis? She'd be a perfect fit for that kind of position."

"That's exactly what I thought as well," Xu conceded. "It's precisely why I signed on to oversee the squad accompanying yours for the Dollet field exam. That was her chance to show the kind of leadership qualities I was looking for, but… well, you already know what happened there. Even with Norg's administration gone, there's simply no way I can offer this position to her when she's freshly coming off of a demotion. It could be too easily construed as playing favorites."

Squall was utterly gobsmacked. He had understood Xu's presence that morning had been for the purpose of evaluating his instructor, but could never have guessed just how important it could have potentially been for her advancement going forward. A pang of guilt shot through him at the realization, only now fully understanding just what he had been complicit in with following Seifer in his desertion.

"I'll readily admit that I wasn't very keen on you after what happened that day," she went on. "But you've proved your mettle sufficiently, and already shown yourself to be capable of commanding this army's respect. And so, after a thorough discussion with the headmaster, I've decided to officially name you my successor."

"With all due respect… I can't," Squall stammered, feeling as though his head were on the verge of rupturing. "I'm just not ready for this level of responsibility."

"Of course, you aren't," Cid inserted himself into the conversation again. "Not yet, anyway. No one's expecting you to be an experienced leader right out of the gate. That's why it's customary for each commandant to choose their successor a year in advance, to allow for sufficient training before taking up the position. It was no different for Xu, when she was named by her predecessor three years ago. Regardless, it will have to wait until the repairs are finished and we've tied up our current business with Fisherman's Horizon. Until then, feel free to take your time to think it over. I'm expecting great things from you, Squall. You're dismissed."

I can't believe this…

Squall stood immobile for several moments, stunned beyond all measure by the sudden promotion he had been afforded. Recognizing it to be far too much to process at once in his already exhausted state of mind, he wordlessly performed the SeeD salute to the two of them, and spun on his heel toward the door. He twisted the handle and pulled it ajar, finding Irvine standing immediately before him on the opposite side of the frame. His initial look of surprise instantly melted away into a slick grin as their eyes met, and he brought his hand around to give him a hearty slap on the shoulder.

"Congrats, chief!"


For the next several days following his promotion, Squall had largely kept to himself. What little time he did not spend secluded in his room consisted solely of eating in the cafeteria and practicing his form in the training center, the latter for the purpose of keeping his mind preoccupied more than anything else. His instruction of Rinoa had drawn to an abrupt halt since their arrival at Fisherman's Horizon, and neither had she come to him at any point to insist he continue. He could safely assume that Irvine had passed along the details of his new position to her and the rest of his comrades, and that she had simply figured he would be too busy to offer her any further training. It was a misunderstanding that suited him just fine; he was in no mood to associate with anyone for the time being.

Whenever he would exit his dorm to make his way about the Garden, his eyes remained perpetually locked to the floor. When in the cafeteria, he would take great pains to find the table furthest removed from his fellow students. In the midst of his training regimen, should another group happen upon him, he was always quick to vacate the immediate area. Above all else, he dared not venture back ashore, knowing too well the apprehensive stares he would be surely be met with from the townspeople. By the fourth day, he had ceased his daily round of the academy altogether, instead resigning himself to his room for a full twenty-four hours. No matter the incessant pangs of hunger from his stomach, the will to raise himself from his bed remained out of reach.

All the while, he reflected upon the events that had brought him to such a turning point in his life, and the uncertain future that lay ahead. Just as it was for him on the night of the inauguration ball, he felt no satisfaction despite achieving such a milestone. What ought to have been the single greatest accomplishment of his life instead carried a dread for him akin to a prison sentence. He had only passed the field exam just over a month prior, inadvertently sullying his own instructor's chances for the position he now held. Beyond the guilt eating away at him, it should have been obvious to everyone that he was completely unqualified, no matter what the commandant and headmaster might have said to the contrary. He had long since made it his mission to become entirely self-sufficient specifically to avoid such a level of responsibility.

The thought of resigning from SeeD altogether had crossed his mind several times. It seemed the only surefire way to rid himself of the burden of leadership, regardless of the cowardly light it would surely paint him in among the student body. Such a consequence did not particularly bother Squall, having never been one to become hung up on others' view of him. What truly frightened him, just as it had when Seifer had first asked him of his dream for the future, was where he would go next. His life at Balamb Garden was all he knew, and with the world presently on the verge of Edea's total conquest, there was simply no possibility for him to leave it all behind for a normal life. He would eventually find himself pressed into battle against Galbadia's forces again, whether or not he still bore the title of SeeD. These concerns hung over him like a heavy pall, day and night, rendering him paralyzed as he lay helplessly upon his bed.

On the evening of the fifth day, the second consecutively in which he had not left his room, a knock on the door came. Deep in the throes of depression and deprived of sustenance as he was, he made no effort to reply. Several more knocks followed, before the door finally creaked open. Squall could scarcely remember whether or not he had locked it in his state of exhaustion, and groggily turned over to see who it was.

"Hey," Rinoa greeted him with a hint of concern. "You okay? Me and the rest of the gang haven't seen you around in days."

"What do you want?" he weakly groaned in return.

"You look so down," she pitied him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. "Squall, what's wrong? Tell me."

"It's…" he started, his body feeling heavy as he fought to sit up.

"Yeah, yeah, 'none of your business', right?" Rinoa finished his thoughts for him. "Quistis was right on. You are an easy read. Come on, let's get you up and at it. We're going out for a night on the town."

"I'm not in the mood," he dismissed her.

"Let me guess," she sighed. "You're still hung up over the new promotion, right? Look, I can understand why you wouldn't be. You've had a lot put on your shoulders all of a sudden. But just lying around in bed doing nothing isn't going to make you feel any better. You need to get out and unwind a little. Plus… there's something important that I want to talk to you about. So, what do you say? I mean, come on, Squall, how old are you? You're still a teenager, right? Why don't you let yourself act like one for a change?"

Squall breathed a deep sigh in through his mouth, realizing she would likely never stop pestering him until he finally gave in. His ever rumbling stomach likewise begged him to accept her request, in the single-minded hope it would finally be sated after two full days without nourishment.

"Fine," he surrendered, achingly maneuvering his legs over the side of the bed to his waiting shoes. "I'll give it a shot."

"Yes!" Rinoa excitingly jumped up. "Then, let's get going."

He quickly laced his shoes, threw on his casual black jacket, and followed her out the door. They maneuvered their way through the dormitory halls at a leisurely pace, being about as fast as Squall could bring himself to move in his current condition. Upon reaching the atrium, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks; the massive nexus was completely empty, without a single cadet or SeeD present across its entire open expanse. Not believing his eyes, he quickly brought up his wristwatch to take note of the time. It presently displayed '20:14', just after curfew for the junior classmen, but nearly three hours ahead of the academy-wide lights-out.

"Where is everybody?" he pondered aloud.

"Probably out on the town," Rinoa answered obliviously. "Come on, let's move it."

Squall apprehensively followed her lead to the elevators and stepped aboard, a new queasiness unrelated to hunger rapidly forming in his stomach. Something was amiss for the atrium to be devoid of any occupancy so early in the evening. The idea that the entire student body had taken to the town simultaneously was utterly ludicrous, especially when considering the tenuous relationship they currently held with the people of Fisherman's Horizon. As they stepped off onto the second level together and circled around to the front of the Garden, he realized the hall was likewise completely vacant, save for a single familiar face casually leaning beside the open emergency exit.

"So, she finally talked ya into it, huh?" Irvine chuckled as they approached.

"Into what?" Squall impatiently asked. "Where is everyone?"

"All in good time, buddy," he assured him as he relieved himself from the wall and strode forward to meet them. Suddenly, he slid his arm around Squall's neck and began walking him away from Rinoa, toward the door.

"Lookin' good together," he slyly whispered into his ear. "So like, I found this spot fer you two. Right near the stage. Check fer a ladder under the solar panels. I left a nudie mag there fer ya. Figured it might be good fer some… inspiration."

What the fuck!?

"Jus' take it easy tonight, an' enjoy the show," he finished with a pat on the back.

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Squall reeled away from his grasp. "What do you mean, 'show'?"

Irvine wordlessly directed his index finger out the hatch, prompting his eyes to follow. Instantly, a pair of arcing spotlights shooting out across the night sky caught his attention. The twin beacons swiveled and danced across the sea of stars, both appearing to be emanating from the center of the solar array. It was only then that Squall's ears picked up on the sound of a merry symphony carried on the wind.

"You're coming too, aren't you, Irvine?" Rinoa asked, paying no heed to Squall's stupefied stare.

"Yeah, I'll be right behind ya," he affirmed. "Jus' gotta work out my… 'battle plan', I guess you could call it."

"Will one of you two please tell me what's going on!?" Squall fumed, becoming increasingly irritable at having his questions go ignored.

"I'll fill you in you on the way," Rinoa spoke calmly, stepping forward through the hatch and onto the raised platform. "Come on, let's go."

Squall momentarily considered turning around on the spot and heading straight back to his dorm; it was abundantly clear that Rinoa had not been entirely forthcoming with him as to her intentions. Despite his discomfort however, the idea that the Garden's populace at large had gathered together in the center of town was too maddening for him to ignore. In dire need of an explanation, he begrudgingly stepped aboard the lift after her. She waved down to the technician manning the crane the next second, and they swiftly began to descend.

"Rinoa," he firmly addressed her. "What's going on? Why is everyone up there?"

"Well, after Irvine told us all about your promotion, Selphie really got fired up about it," she began. "She decided she wanted to put together something special for you. That, and apparently your Garden's annual festival was supposed to be coming up, anyway, and she really didn't want to see all her work from before going to waste. So, she and Irvine brought it up to Cid and the town's technicians, and asked if they'd be willing to help fix up the stage in the quad. They agreed, and even suggested holding it here in town instead. That way it could double as a celebration of the people's liberation from Galbadia, and maybe give them something to help take their minds off all that's happened."

"And they're holding it next to the mayor's house!?" he flew off the chain. "The mayor who can't stand having us in his town!?"

"Oh, you might be surprised about that," she smiled as the platform touched down. "Why don't we head on up and have a look?"

Squall's legs broke into a brisk power-walk along the tracks, paying no heed as to whether Rinoa could comfortably match his pace. Any trace of hunger pangs had all but disappeared from his gut, his weary mental faculties too flabbergasted to process any other manner of bodily response. He could hardly believe that things had progressed so quickly in the short time he had kept himself isolated from the outside world. The music continued to swell in volume as he drew closer to the height of the central structure, and then finally took notice of the ring of townspeople and students alike gathered around the upper rim of the solar array. At last breaking into a full-on sprint, he dashed up the remainder of the incline and turned to look down upon the ensuing festivities.

Hundreds of people bustled about upon the intertwining stairways and directly surrounding the central platform, with untold numbers more both seated and standing all around the lip of the great basin. A girded, reinforced metal stage equipped with a PA and full-scale lighting system had been erected directly in front of the mayor's residence, upon which the Garden orchestra presently performed. Numerous white tents had been erected within the open circular expanse near the bottom, evidently offering freshly prepared concessions if the sizzling steam and savory aromas wafting upward from them were any indication. All around, the people danced, drank, and laughed merrily, with nary a hint of observable animosity between the two parties. It was a festival that embodied the very image of fellowship.

"What do you think?" Rinoa chimed in from the side. "Not too shabby for just a few days' work, huh?"

Squall was awestruck at the sight of it all, speechless in the face of the all-encompassing gaiety before him. How the mayor could possibly have given the go-ahead for such a thing was beyond his ability to fathom. After several more moments spent staring on in wide-eyed amazement, the orchestra brought its current piece to a close, prompting a light round of applause from all those who saw fit to offer one. The conductor graciously took his bow, only to be upstaged by a single outfitted SeeD strolling across the stage to the microphone standing at its fore. Even before she spoke, the unmistakable spring in her step was all it took for Squall to recognize her from so far away.

"Let's hear it again for the Balamb Garden chamber orchestra!" Selphie's voice blared over the PA. "Are we all having a good time so far, people?"

A healthy choir of cheers erupted in response, Squall feeling slightly startled by the sheer amount in his vicinity.

"That's what I like to hear!" she continued. "And now, if I could have your attention please, there are just a couple of things those of us from the festival committee and the government of Fisherman's Horizon would like to say before we get on with the rest of the festivities. Firstly, on behalf of the Garden student body, I'd like to take a moment to personally congratulate our new commandant-to-be, Squall Leonhart, on his big promotion. Squall, if you're out there, this is all for you, ya big stud! Let's have a big round of applause, everyone, come on!"

Squall felt his face turn flush with embarrassment as the cheering kicked up again. Now, more than at any other time he could remember, he desperately wished he could simply shrivel away into nothingness and leave the mortal plane behind entirely. Already shaken to his very core, it was then that Rinoa affectionately pulled herself close to him, wrapping both of her arms around his right and gently placing her head on his shoulder. Instantly, his sense of mortification shot through the stratosphere, and did not recede even after she graciously stepped away a second later.

"Don't let him get away, Rinoa!" Selphie joked, seemingly well aware of the mischievous ploy. "And now, with that out of the way, I'd like to hand the stage over to Mayor Dobe for a brief word. Take it away, sir!"

The bubbly girl quickly vacated her spot at the microphone, allowing for a far slower moving gentleman to shuffle his way across the stage to take her place. The streaks of grey running through his hair practically leapt out from under the spotlights, a stark contrast to the dark attire he now wore. Although it was impossible for Squall to pick out details from such a distance, the bagginess of his pants certainly implied it was no manner of formal wear. When considering his disheveled appearance five days earlier however, and in relation to the average townsperson's clothing, it was likely the most presentable outfit available to him.

"My friends," he wearily began. "I am so happy to see you all enjoying yourselves this evening. And, of course, none of it would have been possible if not for the Balamb Garden festival committee. Let's have another round of applause for the hard-working men and women who've spent the last few days toiling non-stop."

As Dobe's request was gratified by all those around him, Squall looked on in stark confusion. This did not sound at all like the same man who had previously shown such flippant disregard for SeeD's assistance.

"It has been a trying and turbulent week for us all," he continued. "And personally speaking, it has been one rife with soul-searching and careful contemplation for me and my wife. Fisherman's Horizon was founded long ago in pursuit of a dream for a better way of life. One whereby man and nature could happily coexist together, without need for senseless fighting amongst one another. I have made it my mission to uphold that central ethos for all of these years I have presided over this town, that any conflict can be peacefully solved with civil discussion and discourse. And while I still believe it in my heart to be true, I have come to realize that no good will come of demonizing or ostracizing others merely for having a different view of the world, or ascribing to a different set of values. And that to simply dismiss the legitimacy of those views outright, without showing the goodwill to listen to the arguments behind them, is the deepest hypocrisy and ignorance."

He paused, allowing a hushed muttering to envelop the whole of the solar array. Squall could scarcely believe his ears, so radically different was the mayor's demeanor and so stunning his change of heart.

"I owe this revelation to one young man," he started up again. "Who so passionately made it clear to me that while our beliefs may be diametrically opposed to one another, they both share the same end-goal. And to that end, I thank you. To Fisherman's Horizon and SeeD! May we all come to accept each other's differences and strive for a better future together. Huzzah!"

The audience burst into their loudest cheer yet, so much so that Squall was tempted to cover his ears at the abrupt swell in volume. Instead, he simply stood motionless, amazed to learn that his words, however clumsily he might have grasped for them on the spot five days ago, had gotten through to the elderly man after all. That they had inspired him so much as to allow their festival to be held right on his doorstep spoke louder than any carefully crafted speech ever could.

"Now, let's get on with the show, everyone!" he cheerfully boasted, and signaled for the newly arrived Garden jazz ensemble at his rear to kick into their first number.

"What did I tell you?" Rinoa beamed from his side as the brass horns blared. "You're already shaping up to be a highly respected leader. What more could you ask for?"

With the surreal ceremony having concluded, and the last of the jitters having left Squall's nervous system, the sudden return of his rumbling stomach provided the answer for him.

"Food," he bluntly spoke, starting down the densely packed staircase for the nearest concession stand.

Rinoa trailed him all the way to the bottom, seemingly content to take Selphie's earlier request to heart. Many students he passed along the way took notice, shooting him congratulatory smiles, thumbs-ups, and winks aplenty. Upon reaching the base of the solar array, he practically bolted for the first tent he came across, the line thankfully being only three people long. He purchased three skewers of grilled fish from the vendor, handing one to Rinoa out of consideration before quickly scarfing down the other two, and then promptly sought to fight his way back out of the throngs of people. Realizing he would likely find better success navigating the crowds by avoiding them altogether, he maneuvered his legs over the surrounding guardrails to touch down beneath the solar panels to the right of the stage.

He squinted as he peered across the panels' shadowy undersides, the darkness broken only intermittently by the concert's lighting shining on through the evenly spaced gaps. Fumbling his way forward in disregard of Rinoa's insistence that they turn back, his eyes finally took notice of a ladder's silhouette propped up in between two sets of panels. Squall's tongue abruptly caught in his throat as he recalled Irvine's suggestive aside, and yet a strange curiosity beckoned him forward to meet it all the same. As he reached the base of the rungs, his eyes bulged as he noticed the seemingly discarded magazine lying next to it. 'Girl Next Door', it's title read above a kneeling nude model with her arm held before her voluptuous chest.

Holy shit, he was serious…

"Wonder who put this here," Rinoa muttered. Squall instantly flipped back around to face her, prepared to divulge any other explanation he could think of for the magazine, when he noticed her eyes were firmly trained to the ladder.

"Wanna head on up?" she suggested, taking hold of the rungs. "I bet we could get an awesome view from up there."

Squall allowed himself to breathe normally again, thankful that she had apparently been too distracted to take notice. She carefully pulled herself up and began to climb, the steel frame appearing sturdy enough to support her weight without issue. Despite such an assurance, Squall's prior near-death experience with regard to ladders in the Garden's maintenance level came rushing back to him as soon as he took hold of the first rung. Realizing any potential drop in this instance would amount to a matter of feet rather than meters, he followed suit and started up the ladder, soon finding that his worries had indeed been for naught.

"Wow," Rinoa exhaled as he pulled himself up over the edge of the solar panel. "It's like having our own private suite to watch the show from!"

He glanced out across the two subsequent rows of panels before him to the stage, where the jazz ensemble still performed for all with the fresh addition of a female vocal soloist. Free from the bustle of the crowds below, and not so far removed as the people seated on the upper rim high above, it was indeed the most picturesque view of the festival's proceedings one could ask for. Despite his highly questionable outlook on the finer points of romance, Irvine's choice of location had been right on the money.

"I guess so," he muttered, taking a seat squarely in the middle of the panel.

"Geez, don't get too excited about it," Rinoa sarcastically quipped as she plopped herself down beside him. Just as when she had briefly snuggled in close to him earlier, his heart began to pound frantically once more.

"So, listen," she started in a gentle tone of voice. "There's something I wanted to say. It's about your promotion. I know it's not like you're suddenly the big man in charge around the Garden just yet, but… I think I've got a pretty good idea how you must be feeling about all this. It's a lot of responsibility to live up to, and I'm sure there'll be a lot of new and difficult things that you'll have to deal with from now on. Me and the others were talking about that, and saying how you'll probably just try to handle everything on your own, like you always do."

No argument there…

"And now that I've said that, you're probably thinking something like, 'No argument there'."

Squall flinched at the remark, startled as to how perfectly she had read his mind. As soon as the surprised expression crossed his face, she burst into a chuckle.

"I haven't been around you that long, but I think I know how you tick a lot better than most," she joked. "You know, when you start thinking really hard about this sort of stuff, you always make this frown."

"I'm out of here," Squall firmly announced, his patience with Rinoa having reached its limit for the evening. He maneuvered himself to stand up and take his leave, when the girl's arms once again wrapped themselves around his, keeping him anchored in place.

"Oh, come on!" she begged him to stay, working her way dangerously further into his personal space all the while. "I'm just teasing you a little. You need to stop taking everything so seriously all the time."

She leaned her head in closer, placing her lips directly beside his ear, and whispered seductively to him.

"Unless… maybe you want to get serious."

Squall instantly shot to his feet, forcefully breaking free from Rinoa's grasp. He instinctively backed away from her in sheer terror and alarm, as though she were the very visage of Sorceress Edea herself.

"What the hell do you want from me!?" he finally snapped, flustered beyond the point of keeping any composure. "I didn't sign up for any of this!"

"That's it!" she exclaimed, rising to her own feet. "Just let it all out! Anything you need to! That's all we really want from you, Squall. We just want you to talk to us a little more. Like, if there's anything you want to tell us, or anything we can do to help, please don't hesitate to let us know. I know it's not easy for you, but I really wish you would just trust us, and not be so scared to rely on other people."

Squall's labored breathing slowly returned to normal as the surge in adrenaline gradually dissipated. He stood still as a statue, his mind drawing a blank as to what he could possibly say to Rinoa after she had just blindsided him with such an advance. It took several moments of silence between them for him to process what she had said. When he finally did, it was the central premise of her concern which struck him next.

Scared? Me?

In the previous month alone, he had bravely faced dangers that would have reduced lesser men to a sniveling wreck. He had fought on the shores of Dollet, rescued a mysterious girl he still knew virtually nothing about from a fearsome plant creature, hijacked a train and fended off a disfigured undead thrall aboard, attempted to assassinate a sorceress, escaped from prison, saved the Garden from destruction and disposed of its wicked usurper among many other death-defying feats. The notion that he could be frightened by something so meaningless and trivial was laughable, or at least ought to have been. And yet, as he reflected on her words, wrestling with the tightly-wound knot within his gut that stubbornly refused to come undone, he was forced to concede that she was right. He was scared.

Of course, I'm scared. Why shouldn't I be? Nothing lasts in this world, least of all the people around you. Sure, it might feel great in the moment to have all these friends who believe in you, but that's exactly what makes it so dangerous, especially if you become too used to it. Someday you're bound to lose everything. Everyone around you will be gone, and then what are you left with? Nothing. Nobody. It's the most miserable feeling in the world, and it's inevitable. It's so hard to recover from something like that. I never want to have to live through that experience again. I can't. Even if it means being alone…

"What a night," Rinoa finally sighed, sitting back down in place. "Great music, nice view, good-looking guy…"

She trailed off before redirecting her focus to him, smiling contentedly.

"And not only is he good-looking," she elaborated. "But a sweet guy, too, even if he doesn't like to show it. And a great listener to boot. Right now, he's seriously thinking over what I just said. He's shy, and doesn't say much, but I know. So, come on, what do you think? Is there room enough in that little world of yours for us to squeeze in?"

"I… I appreciate your concern," he stumbled over himself. "But-"

"No 'buts'!" she firmly corrected him with a raised index finger. "Just think about it: the way things are shaping up with this whole war, there might not be another time where we can all be together like this. There's no guarantee for the future. That's why today, the time we have right now, is important. Squall, we really want to help you as much as we can, for as long as we can. We all love you… there, I said it. So, please, don't freak out on me. We just want to live through this time we have with you, together."

"Together?" he repeated, feeling overwhelmed by all that she had laid out for him in such a brief span. "That's exactly the problem, though. There are no guarantees. Everyone I know goes away in the end. I don't…"

He trailed off as he began choking up. In that instant, he knew that if he allowed a single tear to loose itself from his eyes, he would be finished. He fought as hard as he could to hold in the sadness, to not allow her to see him in such a vulnerable and pitiful state. A gentle touch on his shoulder roused him from his misery, as he turned his weary eyes up to Rinoa's in front of him.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him. "Not tonight, anyway. Come on, sit here with me. I won't bite. And I won't leave. I promise."

Those last two words struck him with a greater intensity than any other statement he had heard that night. More unbelievable still was that he intuitively knew she meant it. Unable to come up with a reasonable excuse to distrust her, he allowed himself to be pulled back down by his arm to sit with her. There they lingered beside one another in silence for several minutes longer, eyes and ears trained to the band on stage as they swiftly wrapped up another number. And yet all the while, in the midst of what should have been a decidedly awkward and uncomfortable scenario for him, Squall suddenly found himself overcome by a feeling of relief.

He recognized the strange contentment to be the very same he had felt when he had first danced with Rinoa at the inauguration ball. It was a serene and peaceful sensation, reflective of an unspoken understanding shared between him and the young girl. Just as it was on that night, she had gone so far out of her way to offer him a reprieve from his troubled state of mind, only for him to have stubbornly refused her at every turn in much the same way. He recalled the genuine disappointment he had felt when she had abruptly fled the dance floor, leaving him standing by his lonesome in the middle of the ballroom. Only now, with her by his side, seemingly aware of the loneliness he grappled with and prepared to stay with him through it all, did he finally understand how the need for companionship could be so intrinsic to the human experience.

The jazz ensemble started up again, this time backed by a selection of players from the orchestra providing a supplemental string accompaniment. Mere moments after they kicked in, Rinoa breathed a heavy sigh.

"They would start playing this song right about now, wouldn't they?" she softly muttered.

"You don't like it?" Squall abruptly asked, turning his head to face her.

"No, it's not that," she insisted, hunching her knees up in front of herself and wrapping her arms around them. "It's just… my mom's the one who wrote it."

"Your mom?" he repeated, caught off guard by the unexpected response. His mind flashed back to the portrait of her mother he had seen on the wall of General Caraway's study, and the tragic telling of her sudden passing he and his squad had been afforded.

"Yeah, she had a little bit of a singing career before I was born," Rinoa elaborated. "This was her big hit, 'Eyes on Me'."

As the down tempo, slow dance of the intro slowly wound to its conclusion, the female vocal soloist stepped up to the microphone and began to sing.

"Whenever I played my songs

On that stage, on my own

Whenever I spoke my words

Wishing someone would hear

I saw you smiling at me

Was it real, or just my fantasy?

You'd always be there in the corner

Of that tiny little bar

My last night here for you

Same old songs, just once more

My last night here with you?

Maybe yes, maybe no

I kind of liked it that way

How you shyly placed your eyes on me

Did you ever know that I had mine on you?

Darling, so there you are

With that look on your face

As if you're never hurt

As if you're never down

Shall I be the one for you

Who pinches you softly but sure

And if your smile should fade

Then I will know that you are no dream"

The young lady's stunning voice reverberated all across the solar array, her delivery powerful yet tinged with a fitting sweetness. Squall's eyebrows furrowed further as each successive lyric met his ears; though he was positive he had never listened to the song before, the vocal melody itself sounded unnervingly familiar.

"She died when I was really young," Rinoa abruptly started up again. "I remember one time… gosh, I must have been like four… I asked her if she wrote this song for my dad. She told me to keep it a secret from him, but… apparently she wrote it for another guy she was in love with before. A soldier, who would come to see her perform all the time back when she was still just playing little clubs. He got sent off to fight in the war, and never came back."

A lightbulb suddenly went off in Squall's head, his eyes bulging and mouth falling open as the revelation occurred to him. This was the very same piece Julia had written for Laguna, and played for him in instrumental form on that fateful night. Past and present once again collided, leaving him utterly dumbfounded. Beyond the mere fact that Rinoa's mother was indeed the woman Laguna had been smitten with so long ago, that he had actually witnessed the very love affair she spoke of through the goofy Galbadian soldier's own eyes was positively world-rending. He was rudely snapped out of his recollection as Rinoa sprung to her feet and turned to face him.

"Come on," she smiled, extending her hand as an invitation. "How about one more, for old time's sake? Or, do you still only dance with girls you like?"

Squall could not help but scoff at the jest, making the conscious decision at that very moment to put aside all he could not hope to understand, past and future alike.

"Is there a problem with that?"

He took her hand.