Chapter XVI – Silent Voice
Old curses linger in silence…
While the stakes continue to rise…
All because of one game.
Quistis was dumbfounded by Seifer's sudden absence and deafened by the sound of her pulse. She took in a shaky breath and made her way back to her bed where she sat and pondered, at a complete loss for words.
Why am I surprised? Seifer's behavior was nothing out of the ordinary. He's always been this way: erratic, irrational, sardonic, and unpredictable.
She touched her wrist with her other hand and blushed in the empty room, glad that there was no one around to witness this awkward act. She found herself blushing more as of late, and only around Seifer. But that couldn't be helped, especially since he had gotten much more forward with his mockery. Tonight, Seifer had been a little more physical than usual. She never expected his touch to affect her to this extent. The last time she felt his bare hands was during Squall and Rinoa's wedding, where they had danced together and almost—
I need to forget about that already…whatever it was or whatever it may have been. He was probably only toying with me again.
Still, she couldn't tear her mind away from his compelling gaze, the many times she stopped breathing altogether when his eyes landed on her, and how those rare moments of his kindness and consideration seemed to surface from nowhere. Quistis couldn't explain how she felt. This thrilling sensation resembled fear and elation all at once, and she was more inclined to believe that it was the former. She could relate to fear, but elation? Had she even felt something like that enough to know how it really feels?
Quistis ran a hand through her hair only to find that it was still slightly damp. She sighed in defeat as she realized that she had almost forgotten about the mission tomorrow. This wasn't fair at all, the way Seifer held such power over people – over her. How could he do this to her? How does he do this to her? She thought back to the earlier part of his visit, which felt almost like an interrogation – what business was it of his that she was going on a mission?
But it was so easy to simply move aside and let his presence command the room. Seifer had always had that effect, which made it so tricky for her to maintain her authority in the classroom. Quistis had to admit it: Seifer was a born-leader with the looks and talent for charming his way out of – and into – almost anything, and yet he chose to use his skills for mischief and misdemeanors. She, on the other hand, had to work tirelessly to get to where she was now, even in her own classroom where her authority was appointed, only to be trumped by Seifer's imposing form and jeering voice time and time again. Whenever he made a snarky comment, the students would turn to look at him, and she would feel her control slipping away, leaving behind only her composure.
If I keep mulling over this issue any longer, I'd be playing right into his hand. No, that's enough. Time to sleep.
She went back to the bathroom to finish what she had started, and tried to drench her thoughts in the drone of her hairdryer.
Seifer turned off his alarm at 0400 hours, realizing that there was no way he would be sleeping any more, and thus would have no need for an alarm. Over the span of the night, he had taken a few naps here and there when he felt tired, and had taken two cold showers – not in that order. There was simply too much thinking to be done, especially about his field exam, and especially about Quistis. Thoughts of the former made him sleepy enough to nap but subconsciously anxious enough to wake him shortly after; thoughts of the latter provoked the showers. Seifer blamed her perceptive eyes, her full lips, her forbidden bosom, her too-proper mannerisms, her choice of a weapon (and who wouldn't factor that in?), and he could go on and on. Quistis was a veritable potpourri of the best of Nature's gardens, making the rest of the world seem like swamps by comparison.
Seifer sighed and sat at the edge of his bed. He couldn't stand it any longer. He didn't care that she had a mission today. She was the one who lost him a night of rest and she was going to pay for it.
So, promptly at 0415, Seifer didn't bother to get properly dressed and went knocking on Quistis's door. As he predicted, she came to the door wide-awake and fully clothed, much to Seifer's disappointment.
"Good morning, Seifer."
"Hey."
They took in each other in the hallway lights. She was wearing her SeeD uniform, the lapels immaculately dusted; he was wearing his training pants, intentionally shirtless. She noticed, of course, and he noticed that she noticed. If she was going to torture him, then he would do the same to her. Seifer could only hope that it was having an effect on her, and his hopes were high when she spoke in an unsteady voice that accompanied yet another blush, to which he was growing much accustomed.
"Would you like to…come in? It gets drafty in the hall." She averted her eyes from his chest to look at his face, but quickly looked away again. Quistis stepped aside to let Seifer pass. "You're early," she said as she turned to gather her things.
Seifer made his way over to her armchair and sat on the armrest to watch her mill about her room. "I thought you'd be up already anyway."
"Am I really that predictable?"
"Maybe I just know you that well," he boasted with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. She said nothing as she continued to root through her bag. "Didn't you already finish packing last night?"
"It never hurts to double-check."
"Where are you staying anyway?" He mindlessly scratched at the fabric of the armchair with a fingernail, and he watched as the surface of the fabric began to pill a little. Seifer looked up at Quistis in time to see her zip up the bag with a flourish of finality.
"The Presidential Palace," she replied. "No other details have been disclosed."
He made a face. "So you don't even know what you're going to be doing there?" She shook her head. "Is that allowed? I thought Garden doesn't accept any missions without knowing everything ahead of time."
"Well, Cid obviously made an exception since this mission involves some sort of study on Time Compression—"
"Wait—what?" Seifer's own abrupt reaction came as a surprise, even to him. "Is there something that someone needs to be telling me?" He stood up and began to stalk toward her.
"No one is telling anyone anything, Seifer. As I've already mentioned, we know nothing beyond the fact that they need a few SeeDs in Esthar." He motioned for her to carry on. "Seifer, there is honestly nothing more I can tell you at this point."
He laughed in her face, a sound of subdued hysterics. "Then you may as well be walking into a death trap, Instructor. Who knows what the hell's up there?" Seifer's tone became increasingly frenetic. "And why's Time Compression, of all things, still messing around in this world? I thought everything went away when you defeated Ultimecia. Or was that all just a giant hoax concocted by the Sorceress? Maybe she's still here somewhe—"
"Seifer, you need to calm down," she interrupted sternly, holding up both hands in front of her in a defensive gesture.
"Calm down? In case you haven't noticed, Instructor, this is a bit of a touchy subject for me." The ventilation in Garden's dorms blew past a small sheen of sweat that had begun to build on his chest, but that wasn't what made him shiver. "If that manipulative bitch is still out there, then someone needs to let me know."
"And what business is it of yours whether she lives or not?" she challenged.
"How is it not my business?" He snarled at her now, agitated by her ignorance. "You don't know what she's like. You and your little ragtag team, headed by Mr. Reluctant Hero of the Year…you only ever saw her from one side, from a distance. Me? I lived with her for months, and things weren't exactly pleasant in a Sorceress's stronghold."
"I can understand, Seifer, but that was your choice."
"Doesn't mean I don't regret it, Trepe. She used me, okay? I was young, I was naïve, and I had just been rejected again by the only place I called home. Think of her as my rebound, if that helps you sleep better at night." Seifer paused to ponder his last turn of phrase. "No, scratch that, that's disgusting. She was Matron for a while, for Hyne's sake."
In his peripheral, he saw Quistis smile for a quarter of a second at his remark before her countenance became sullen again. "Why didn't you turn back? Why didn't you just stop?"
He turned to her, astounded. "Instructor, are you seriously asking me that? If it had been that easy to turn back, then we wouldn't have had an apocalypse to deal with. I was already in too deep before I realized that I didn't want any of that anymore. Sure, it was all fun and games in the beginning. Giving orders and strategizing, having all that power and control—"
"She knew that you liked those things," Quistis noted as she took a seat at the small dining table. She tilted her head up to observe him. He stared down at her, wanting her to see the full capacity of the Evil that he once beheld.
"That's what she does. She takes everything you like and gives it to you, and while you're busy with your new toys, you don't notice that she's ripping every part of you to pieces to be played like pawns. Before you know it, she turns you into one of her toys."
Seifer breathed out through his nose and pulled out the other dining chair effortlessly. He rested his palms on the back of the chair only to stare blankly at his hands, and he finally sat down facing the doorway, propping up the elbow closest to the table and letting his fingertips hang down from the table's edge.
"That's how she draws you in. It's all a big game to her, and the danger is that she makes the game so irresistible. She sets it up to look like you can't lose, so why wouldn't you play? She gives you everything you need to succeed and encourages creativity. Hyne-dammit, it was so thrilling at first. The moment when you're about to make a kill, that feeling of total control over the fate of someone's life… I got addicted to the rush for a while, but when it's all over and done, when you step back to take in what you did…you realize that that feeling might not even be human, and that's when you know you've lost yourself, and that you've lost the game. You lost everything the second you decided that you wanted to play."
He paused and considered Quistis's unwavering gaze, their eyes meeting over a small glass of water and a metal pitcher on the table. Those weren't there before, he observed.
"Drink," she ordered softly. He hadn't even noticed that she had gotten up to bring him something to wash down the cathartic episode. In fact, he hadn't even noticed that he was thirsty. The water went down like a raging river, cooling the fury in his stomach as he gathered his thoughts in the collective stillness of the room.
"Trepe, there's a lot of blood on my hands," he continued as she poured him more water. He lifted the glass and spun the liquid around aimlessly. "Yeah, so what if I didn't personally kill that many people? I still commanded forces and they did what they were told and that makes me responsible. And maybe that's what really kills you: It's not that she takes control of you, it's that she makes you lose control of yourself."
He never talked about those days, because no one had ever asked. He had never felt so serious before her, but she needed to know – someone needed to know. He took another swig and emptied the glass in one fluid motion. "Do you know what it's like, Instructor? Do you know what it's like when you lose yourself?" He set down the glass and brought his entire frame to face her.
"There's nothing. When you get to the end of the line, where it's just you and the darkness, and you lose yourself in the shadows, there's nothing. You can't talk back; there's nothing to say. There's nothing left. Just silence. And that's why she's so horrifying."
He tried to stabilize his mood by drawing in as much air as he could and dispelling it back into the room. Seifer could feel the air swirl around under his nose as he exhaled. He sensed that all of this information was a sudden and heavy load, a burden that he inadvertently shifted to her shoulders. He didn't wait for a reaction. He simply waited.
"You weren't the only one to blame," she said plainly and neutrally, as if giving a lecture on GFs. When there was no response she continued, looking at the water pitcher absently. "Lives are lost on all sides of wars. As you killed, so did we." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms loosely. "But Seifer, perhaps you were better off after all. You feel remorse for what you've done, but the truth is…most of us don't really feel that at all."
"Of course you don't," he scoffed. "You were all on the righteous side of things."
"Just because we were killing for the 'right' reason does not excuse the consequences."
"At least you were doing it to save other lives. You were the one who taught me about utilitarianism. Sacrifice a few for the greater good. If you didn't kill, someone would've killed you, and who would've saved the world then? You did what you had to do to survive," he reasoned.
"So did you."
Seifer didn't know if her perspective was right on all levels, but it didn't seem completely wrong either. Hearing Quistis say that somehow made him feel slightly more at ease. He watched her bite on her bottom lip in a state of contemplation, and he fleetingly wondered what it would be like if it were him biting on those lips instead.
"SeeD training never took root in you quite the way it was supposed to," she went on, crossing her arms on the table. "We were groomed to fire weapons, obey orders, and kill on cue. We've grown up knowing no other way of life, and so we don't feel the appropriate emotions in the corresponding situations."
"You feel nothing after all the things you've done?" Seifer found that hard to believe, though he expected nothing less from a fellow mercenary.
"Well, not exactly 'nothing'. Of course there's a requisite amount of guilt, but we've been taught to suppress these feelings for the sake of fulfilling missions. Feelings would only interfere, and they're not necessary for following orders. It's been this way for so long that, as a result, I question my own feelings of shame: Am I feeling this way because I'm actually feeling it, or is it because I know that's how I'm supposed to feel?"
"So you're saying…you don't know if you're faking it?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"Well, gee, Trepe, that's just messed up. And here I thought that I was the lost cause between the two of us," he joked half-heartedly. His mind almost twisted to spout an innuendo about the Instructor 'faking' something else, but he decided that perhaps the timing wasn't quite appropriate given the context of the conversation. Detention averted.
"That's why I envy you sometimes, Seifer," she declared. "You never allowed Garden to dehumanize you the way it did to the rest of us. You never responded well to authority."
He sniggered. "It's funny, Trepe. You seem to be fully aware of these 'effects', and yet you conformed to the establishment anyway, became the establishment, and…well, I hate to throw your own words back at you, Instructor, but that was your choice." Actually, he didn't hate that at all. It was rather satisfying in its own right, using her words against her.
"I know."
They exchanged a hushed glance of understanding. After half a minute of peace, he was almost startled when she pushed herself away from the table to stand up.
"Well, I have my duties," she began. "I don't have much more time to sit here and deliberate the details of our psyches."
He knew she was only trying to escape the subject. From what her clock read, she had plenty of time. "Leaving so soon, Instructor? You must not enjoy my company very much."
Quistis looked up at the ceiling and her shoulders slumped with a sigh. "Not everything is about you, Seifer. I need to go find Selphie to make sure that she knows about our mission."
"Shouldn't the Messenger Girl be the one delivering all the messages?"
"That's not all she does, you know. I wish you wouldn't label people that way." She lifted her packed belongings from the table and moved them toward the door.
"No, that is all she does." His eyes followed the bag. "I never see her not yapping away like a hyperactive puppy, just talking at people. If she ever defies that label, then I'll stop using it."
"You call me 'Instructor' when I'm no longer that to you."
"And when are you not an Instructor, Trepe? You never stop. It's always 'Seifer, do this', 'Seifer, don't do that'. For Hyne's sake, Trepe…people should work to live, not live to work. Do you ever take a day off?" She opened her mouth to object, but he carried on. "Just last night, you were practically ordering me to pass my exam."
"Needless to say, Instructors don't want their students to fail." Quistis stepped away from the door to confront him directly. "Besides, you owe me."
He didn't remember owing her anything. "That's news to me."
"No, it shouldn't be." She turned her nose up at him, and from that one familiar gesture, Seifer already knew that whatever came out of her lips now would be truth, and nothing but the truth. "If you recall, I was your support for your prerequisite exam, and I had said to you, verbatim, that you'll owe me for this incident."
Now he remembered.
He laughed in disbelief and pushed his face a little closer to hers. "Forgive me if I thought you were joking, Instructor. That's the sort of thing people just say and never really mean."
"I meant every word." Her gaze was steady.
"I guess it's my own damned fault. I should've known you would keep score."
"I always keep score."
He noted the way her lips puckered up twice when saying her last statement. "You see this? It's just like I said. You never stop."
They stayed where they were for a moment: She, almost glaring at him for the unwarranted (though true) criticisms; and he, smirking away at the fact that she knew he was right. It was a good feeling. Seifer rarely had the chance to be 'right' around her.
He also rarely had the chance to watch Quistis try to keep her gaze somewhere above his neck. Whenever her eyes began to stray downwards, they would snap back up to his face, only to be met by his knowing smirk. She cleared her throat and spoke first. "From what I saw in the Fire Cavern and the War, you should have nothing to worry about. I'm sure you'll be fine this time, Seifer."
"Uh-huh, sure." He was thoroughly unconvinced by her belief in his capacities. He tried to shake off his own doubts and second thoughts about the whole affair. "What makes you think I have what it takes, now more than before?"
"I hesitate to tell you things you may already think about yourself, since I know what that could do to your ego."
"Stroke away, Instructor," he winked.
Quistis rolled her eyes. "As I was saying, you'll be fine. Your gunblade skills are unmatched—"
"Naturally."
"You have great stamina—"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Your tactics are sound, for the most part—"
"My methods work if morons don't get in my way."
"Your casting speed is commendable—"
This time, it was Quistis that stopped herself.
"Done already, Instructor? I thought you were just getting started."
Quistis narrowed her eyes. "Seifer, you don't junction any GFs."
"I'm not a team player," he asserted, crossing his arms.
"That's not the issue here." She seemed to search his face for an answer. "Non-physical abilities cannot be used without the help of a GF."
He was not looking forward to the inevitable deduction. "What's your point, Trepe?"
"You should not be able to draw or cast Magic without GFs."
Her unstated question was strongly implied. It was time to come clean, even if he did nothing wrong. "She did it."
Quistis froze momentarily, and nodded in understanding. Blue eyes fixed themselves on the floor.
"She did it to make me more powerful, back then." He turned from her and moved a few steps away.
"It's rather convenient," Quistis noted.
"Well, I never asked for it!" He booming voice almost echoed in the room. "I hate relying on anything but my own four limbs. She may have done it just to annoy me." Seifer blew some pent-up air through his mouth and ran a hand through his hair. "When she died, I thought that her little 'gift' would die with her, but that's obviously not the case."
She spoke, uncharacteristically delicate. "Did you want to get some tests done? You could come with me right now, and maybe Dr. Odine can—"
"No!" He whirled back around to face her. "I refuse to be a lab rat, especially under the hands of that self-serving, second-rate scientist!"
"Seif—"
"I can live with it. I have and I will."
Quistis shook her head. "Fine. Have it your way. But help is available if you need it."
"I don't need help."
She stayed silent and simply watched him. The tension in the air began to disperse when she changed the subject. "Well, do your best on your exam, then."
A small part of him appreciated her willingness to drop the issue. The smirk came back to his face as he readied an apt retort. "The exam can't handle my best." Feeling his confidence return, he casually leaned against the wall next to the door. His eyes made a quick trip around her features, and for the first time this morning, he noticed that her glasses were not on. "For the sake of everyone taking the exam, maybe I shouldn't give my best after all."
Her eyes widened the slightest bit as she tried to suppress her exasperation. "Seifer, what in the world is going to make you take this seriously?"
"I'm sure you know by now that detentions never work, which means that I would respond very well to positive reinforcement."
She did not beat around the bush. "What do you want?"
Seifer really hadn't thought that far. What do I want? I want to disband the Trepies. I want Talman to die a gruesome, gory death. I want to toss Squall into a giant fountain. I want you to make me a sandwich. While wearing a proper apron. With nothing on underneath. I want…
One of his hands moved of its own accord, cupped her chin and tilted it up. He could feel her pulse playing a rapid rhythm on one of his fingers. The gleam in her eyes throbbed along with her heartbeat. The light of the sunrise infiltrated the moment, and he almost sank into the blue waves of her eyes, a place more treacherous than the expanse between the Balamb Sea and the horizon.
"A kiss," he answered at long last.
She swallowed a protest to preserve her poise. "And where can I find one of those for you?"
"No search party necessary. I want a kiss from Quistis Trepe," he specified, the last two words he spoke as if savoring the syllables on his tongue.
She tensed up and slid her chin out of his palm. "You want a kiss? From me?" It was clear to him that she did not believe a word he was saying, and felt the need to reconfirm reality (or perhaps deny it) by repeating the contents of her delusion. He wouldn't give her that luxury.
"You heard me."
"My first kiss, Seifer. And I'm just supposed to give it to you?" Oddly, she did not sound as surprised as he thought she would be. Perhaps he underestimated her self-control. It was a wonder he hadn't yet been removed from her room by excessive force.
"I would've earned it by passing my exam. Besides, I never thought you were the type to place so much value on something so terribly sentimental." She was almost glaring at him, now. He heaved a sigh in mock frustration. "Look, if it's any consolation, it will be my first, too."
At his confession, she appeared thoroughly astonished, but the condescension remained in her voice. "Oh? So the Great Seifer Almasy has never kissed anyone before?"
"Please. The 'Great Seifer Almasy' doesn't have time to be going around kissing people left and right. If you're observant at all, you'll realize that the populace doesn't exactly throw itself at me these days."
She brushed right past his comment. "What can I gain from this?" But of course she would ask such a thing, for in Quistis's world, all scales must be balanced.
"Hyne, Trepe, what more do you want? You already get to kiss me. I could be auctioning off my kiss for thousands. 'Always wanted to kiss a Sorceress's ex-knight? Ten thousand Gil will make your dreams come true!' It's begging to be a collector's item."
The corner of her mouth twitched once, unwilling to form a smile. "Is that your backup plan? If you don't make SeeD, you'll just become a gigolo?"
"You know you'd pay a few months' salary just for one night with me."
"Do you really think you're that valuable? You've no clue of what I make in a month."
He closed in on her. "And you have no idea what you'd get from me in one night."
A blush lit up her face. As she tried to avoid his eyes, she almost sputtered, "Seifer, this conversation has taken a rather inappropriate turn. I'm your Instructor, for Hyne's sake."
"Not anymore, you're not. You told me so last night." He reached over to her shoulder and pulled off a piece of lint that was stuck to her uniform. She did not move. "For someone with such a watertight memory, you are selectively forgetful sometimes. Let's hope you even remember who I am when you come back from your mission."
"Is this all just a game to you, Seifer? I thought you would be sick of games by now."
"I'll play whatever and however I want, as long as it's on my own terms."
"I suppose you love winning too much to give up games forever. Well, if you're going to play, then so am I." She stood a little straighter, her lapels nearly touching his bare chest. His hands were on his hips as he waited for her to resume. "If you fail your exam…" She gave her dorm a final sweep of inspection as she dwelled on the demand. "You have to kiss Zell."
He did not dignify her stipulation with a response. At least, not right away. In the time it took for the sheer absurdity of the thought to fully form in his mind, Quistis had opened the door and walked out into the hallway with her personal effects.
Seifer was visibly revolted by the mere thought of anyone doing anything of the sort to Zell. "Trepe, there is no way, in heaven or hell, that I would ever touch that skinny-ass Chicken-wuss unless it's with my fists and my—"
"Then you'd better make sure you pass the exam," came her interjection.
He scoffed softly. His hand came up again to her chin, and the thick wool of her uniform rose and fell as she took in a deep breath. This time, he glided his thumb past her lips. "As long as you promise to pay up, that shouldn't be a problem." He half-expected her sense of propriety to move her away from his grasp, but something seemed to be keeping her in place. Each exhalation she made passed by his thumb, giving birth to goose bumps along the way. He unconsciously leaned forward to capture what wasn't yet his.
"Good luck, Seifer."
He snapped out of his reverie and smirked at her. As much as he would've liked to claim her for himself, right here, right now, Seifer Almasy never takes what he didn't earn. A feeling of déjà vu washed over him.
"Instructor, save those words for a bad student that needs them, eh?"
"Very well." She gave him a smile. He didn't know if it was meant to be comforting, but it did the trick. "I'll see you in a few days."
He had anticipated a replay of the scene before his last exam for old time's sake, but clearly something had changed. Quistis offered her only free hand, outstretched. "I'll follow through if you will."
They sealed the deal with a firm handshake. He caught her looking at his chest this time.
"Seifer…"
"Yes, Instructor?"
"Put a shirt on before you intimidate any of the Cadets."
Quistis turned on her heel and marched down the hallway. He took the opportunity to give her figure a onceover from the back, and when he shifted to move out of the light, the door closed swiftly and left him alone in her dorm.