"Whatever The Cat Drags In - Part 4" ~ by Allora Atwater
A/N: Gosh, all this writing is making me tired! But I love writing this, it's absolutely addictive for me and I'm having a great time! This is the last part in the series and I know that none of you are gonna like it, but that's why I'm writing an BIG epilogue in Seifer's POV. It will wrap things up with their relationship completely. So all you Quiefers can rejoice! Unless of course you guys happen to like the ending to this one, but gimme some more of your precious feedback and I'll continue! And once again, thank you all for your comments, they really mean the world to me! The more you want me to write, the more you need to review!
Disclaimer: AHHH! It doesn't belong to me! Don't sue me, I am a poor high school student with a 3.0 average and a crappy job! I'm sure that's more than you needed to know…
It's a frosty Saturday morning, and I lay on top of my sheets, scantily clad next to an open window. No, I'm not trying to attract peeping toms. For some reason, I just enjoy the way the cold air numbs my body and alerts my senses. I'm probably setting myself up for pneumonia, but so long as I can't feel a thing, I don't mind.
"Katchoo!"
Except for the occasionally violent sneeze.
I've been in a depressed stupor for weeks, working diligently to prevent human contact and turning in early each night to avoid questions. Of course, I haven't really been able to sleep either. I mostly just lie awake in bed, my window open to allow the chilled air to seep into my room and freeze my body beyond the point of feeling. I gaze at the ceiling, counting the tiles over a million times, staring at one of the fan blades, trying to follow its path until I get so dizzy I can barely see straight. When I do sleep, it's a restless, uneasy slumber, often filled with nightmares and harrowing occurrences.
I feel drugged. Helpless and alone, yet so blissfully delirious. I'm so tired. So tired, and cold, and utterly, utterly lonely. Here I am, Quistis Trepe, mistress of denial and stupidity. At one point, I truly wanted people to know me for the teenager that I am, not the overly concerned Instructor, not the nosy little girl that had to make herself a part of every squabble. But now that I look into my soul and see nothing but a spineless coward, I'm almost glad no one knows the real me. I shudder involuntarily, almost moving to close the window.
"Katchoo!"
I turn on my side, hugging myself tightly to relieve my body of some of its iciness. I close my eyes and envision a little girl standing on the beach. Her tangled mane of gold is amassed in a sloppy ponytail, her big round eyes wide with wonder. She wears a dusty pair of jeans and unlaced sneakers, her short sleeved shirt splotched with mud. That little girl, standing all by herself on the beach, is me. Little Quisty Trepe, the perpetual peacemaker and scolding sisterly figure.
If only I'd have known what I was going to grow into. I finally resolve to pry myself off of the bed and stare into the mirror. I expected to see a monster, but instead, I saw me as I have always seen me, with the exception of my distant expression and hollow eyes. I almost laugh. This must be the teenage depression syndrome so many of my students have been haunted with throughout the months. It was good to know that I would eventually get over it. Maybe everyone felt this insecure at times. Maybe everyone felt, at one point, as if the world would be a better place without them.
I pick up a brush and smooth out my hair, taming the wild bird's nest I had woken up with. I close my eyes while I fight my knotted tresses, keeping my mind off the pain that each little tug sends through my scalp. I don't care how many battles I've been through, how many cuts and bruises I've had. I'm a tender-headed girl and I expect to stay that way, no matter how much torture my hairbrush puts me through.
I try and visualize the ocean, the only thought that seems to calm me down nowadays. But in doing so, I get a mental image of his hard blue eyes, swirled with so many differing emotions. That idiot. Always finding a way to weasel his handsome face into my every thought. Jerk.
Of course I don't believe a word I think. My thoughts are what seem to get the best of me, always yanking me in different directions. I miss the days when I could be calm and calculated, not letting anything get in the way of my job. But those days were also so very bland and predictable. I let responsibility and reason dominate my life far too early. I wonder, is there any hope for me at all? Squall certainly made a dramatic improvement in his attitude, thanks to Rinoa. But I'm really not as surly as he was back then. I smile freely. I'm polite, non-aggressive. But then, I seem to have a harder time confronting my feelings.
"Katchoo!"
I muster enough energy to stand up and stretch, my body practically smiling at me for the welcomed feel. Half the joints in my body crack; has it really been that long since I've engaged in any physical activity? I make a half-hearted attempt to dress myself, lazily throwing on a fuzzy sweater and a pair of leather pants. The pants are a bit too clingy for my taste, almost like a second skin that badly needs to be shed. But it's clean and it matches, so what the hell.
Did I just think that? Seifer really has rubbed off on me. I hope I don't start cursing in class one of these days. That'll certainly get my license permanently revoked. At this point I don't know if that's good or bad, but in my mental state, I don't need the added stress of finding a new profession.
I pluck my whip, Save the Queen, from the back of the closet and gather my hair into a ponytail, deciding to venture down to the Training Center. Might as well brush up on my technique. My gaze is fixed straight ahead of me, my hands on the whip. I'm in a no-nonsense mood. Maybe eradicating a couple of monster will calm my nerves.
I hustle past a few students, not in a rush, yet driven by intense anger. A couple is making out in the hall, obviously under the assumption that no one would spend a Saturday morning fighting in the Training Center. I pay them no mind and they are completely oblivious to me.
I step inside and take in my surroundings; eerie, musky, and empty. It's a far cry from the warm sand and clear, salty air of the shores of Balamb…
A Grat pops out from the shrubbery and attempts to attack me. Ha. My whip snaps back and cracks down on the little pest, slicing him in two. That's what he gets for disturbing my thoughts.
I pause a moment after that. Disturbing my thoughts? What kind of moron goes to a monster-infested cage to dwell on life? I should be here getting rid of some bottled up aggression. Justifying my failure as a human being. Not standing around thinking about everything I want and the steps I'm too chicken to take in order to get them. I need to take action in order to rectify the things I've done wrong. I'll end up getting killed if I just stare idly at the ground like this. I start towards the exit, feeling fairly stupid. A couple of slain Mr. Grat's Grat buddies block my path. What a pain in the ass. One of them claws at me with one of its wimpy stalks. I have news for you buddy, I fought the most powerful Sorceress known to man. No cat scratch is gonna stop me. Save the Queen tears across both of them and I resume my way.
"Katchoo!"
Damn cold.
I stop to see the same couple folded in embrace, their foreheads pressed together and their eyes locked on one another.
"I love you Lindsay." The boy whispers, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.
"I love you too Josh." She puts her hand over his.
"Just shut up!" I scream at both of them, and they falter out of their romantic exchange. I storm off, not knowing where I developed such a terrifying screech, or why I even bother to shut the couple up. I think I was just trying to put them out of their misery. That girl was bound to get her eye poked out if I didn't butt in. And that boy would've gotten his heart broken anyway. She obviously didn't mean it when she told him she loved him…
But at least she was able to tell him…
I stop, strangely out of breath as I place a hand against the wall to steady myself. From around the corner I can hear the couple arguing.
"Who was that?"
"I dunno…"
"Don't play dumb with me Josh, who was she?"
"Some crazy girl I guess, how should I know?"
"Is she one of your ex-girlfriends?"
"N-no!"
"Liar!"
"Babe… where are you going?!"
"Home! I knew I should have listened to my parents when they warned me not to date you!"
I hurry off. I know I should probably run back and try to patch things up between the twosome I successfully split, but my conscience has a completely different agenda. I need to be selfish, I need to worry now about my own problems and how to fix them. I race back to my dorm.
"Instructor Trepe!" I recognize the voice as one of the students in my first hour class. Even though my mind is in a complete frenzy, I can't neglect my responsibility to my students. I turn.
"Um, about that assignment we have due Monday morning…"
I draw a blank. I assigned work over the weekend? That's awful. That's a crime. What teenager in their right mind would spend an entire weekend writing a report? …or whatever it is that I told them to do?
"Forget about it Aric. In fact, don't do any work I assign in that class ever again. Now go and have fun, it's Saturday remember?"
His jaw doesn't seem to be working; I guess it's sort of a surprise to him. Strict homework-hound Instructor Trepe telling him never to do his assignments again.
If word of this gets around, I'll loose my Instructor's license for sure.
"Oh and Aric? Make sure you tell everyone else too. Even if they're not in my class."
I scuffle off once again.
I run in the direction of my dorm room, mercilessly jostling those foolish enough to intercept my path. Since when have I been this brash, reckless and crude? Hmmph. Since I started hanging around that numbskull Seifer. That bastard. Look what he's done to me. Turned me into a walking ball of emotional nonsense, completely beat down all the proper manners and personal awareness I struggled for years to construct. Strangled my heart with the black rope of death. Branded stupid metaphors such as "black rope of death" in my head.
Finally reaching my door, I toss Save the Queen carelessly into the room and shut the door, hearing the loud clang of my whip connecting with the wall and falling onto my desk. Presumably knocking the stack of alphabetized test papers in complete disarray. What does it matter anymore? I have my entire life to live and I don't want to spend every waking hour sucking down coffee and trying to keep my eyes open long enough to determine a hundred and eighty grade point averages.
I manage to arrive at the front gate without colliding with any unfortunate bystander. I'm panting, out of breath from the exertion, the anger, the frustration that's building up inside of me. Luckily, there are very few people awake and outside at this ungodly hour and as a gust of frosty wind ravages my body, I know why.
"Katchoo!"
I feel so weak and pathetic, like a damsel in distress. I used to frown upon Rinoa for showing this kind of weakness, and now I severely regret it. I run, as fast as my legs can carry me, a dark premonition in the back of my mind urging me to pick up my speed. I search my mind and cast a quick Haste spell that I had stored away. Who would have thought I'd be in a situation outside of battle where it would be appropriate?
I feel my pace quicken although I'm not asserting any extra energy. It's quite a blessing, putting in half the effort and getting twice the result. My eyes are burning, the wind viciously assaulting them. Tears form to try and protect my baby blues from getting hurt too badly. I'm too focused to care. How long has it been since I've graced the streets of Balamb? A week? No, longer than that. Two I think. Two and a half.
The Haste spell finally starts wearing off as I reach the limits of Balamb. I feel almost tipsy, unable to run in a straight line. I slow down a bit to return the friendly waves of the mechanics and to catch my breath. What a jog. My aching muscle tissue harshly reprimands me with a violent cramp in my calf. If I wasn't so distraught, I would laugh. This is the way Laguna is supposed to cop out of a nerve-wracking situation, not me. I kick and shake it a little, flexing my toes and rotating my ankle.
A few children are walking past, and I catch a tidbit of their conversation.
"…yeah, it's at the docks!"
"…my mommy says it's…"
"It's huge…"
"I wonder where it's going?"
The docks?
"Excuse me!" I call out to them, and they turn around. The two little boys exchange a glance and grin. "I couldn't help but overhear… you say there's something going on at the docks?"
"Uh huh!" the first boy nods vigorously.
"We can show you if you want!" the other offers.
I pause. "No, thank you, I'll go take a look for myself. It might not be safe for you to go without your parents' permission."
There I go, sounding bossy and professional. The children don't seem to mind, waving me off as I hustle towards the harbor. My foot catches on a loose stone and I stutter-step, catching myself in time before meeting with the cobblestone street, and I keep going as if nothing fazed me. I brush past the owner of the Balamb Inn before he can even try to rent me a room. I guess he's hurting for business.
When I finally set foot on the harbor, I see exactly what the kids were so excited about. There's an enormous vessel, hundreds of dockhands busily swarming around it, loading boxes into the cargo bay. There are also a few mechanics making their rounds, noting anything that may need further inspection. There are several angry men with clipboards directing the others, barking out orders for them to hurry up. I scan the crowd for his sun kissed hair or his untamed oceanic eyes, but to no avail.
A worker strolls past me and I clutch his arm desperately, scaring the daylights out of him I'm sure.
"Can I help you Ma'am?" he asks uncertainly.
"I'm sorry…" I sputter, releasing his wrist. "Can you tell me what's going on?"
"You mean this?" he gesticulates around the entire mob scene. "Oh, well this big thing right here," - he points to the vessel -"is getting loaded down with Balamb imports and shipped off to Dollet."
"But why all the fuss?" I press.
"Oh well, the harbor in Dollet is really shorthanded. They have a ton of orders for merchandise, and it needs to be exported all around the world, but there are far too few men out there. Since business is so slow out here right now, our team is gonna spend some time in Dollet shipping orders."
"What? How long will you be in Dollet?"
"Umm, probably a month or two at the most. We leave tomorrow morning at noon."
A month? Maybe two? No, that was too long. If Seifer was leaving for an indeterminable amount of time, be it one month or two, that was far too long for me to settle for. He couldn't leave, not now, not when there was so much he needed to stay for.
"Do you know a dockhand by the name of Seifer Almasy?" I'm frantic, my eyes pleading with him to give me whatever information he has.
"Lady…" he begins uncomfortably. He pities me. "I really don't know. There are a lot of guys out here." He checks his watch and glances back to the laboring in front of us. "Hey look, I gotta get back to work." And he leaves.
I feel helpless, like a cat in a tree she can't get down from. There are too many men out here, and too little time. I know my boundaries; I can't very well run in the middle of everything and scream out for him. But I have to find him, he has to turn up eventually. I have to find a way to make him stay. I hear someone mention his name.
"Hey Almasy, ain't that yer girlfriend over there?" some loudmouth punk points at me. I squint my eyes, making out the figure next to him. It's Seifer, labeling a crate and hefting it to a man behind him. He peers at me from afar, and I'm delighted as he starts to walk towards me, slowly, cautiously. I follow his lead and meet him halfway. He stands at a distance, a strange expression on his face. I realize that it must be my miserable appearance.
I'm now aware that I'm shivering involuntarily, my nose raw like a strip of leather as I try to suppress another sneeze. My cheeks are red and tear-streaked from the biting gales, my breathing pattern is abnormally quick and ragged, a result of mild hyperventilation no doubt. I clutch my stomach, making a futile attempt to catch my breath.
"KATCHOO!"
"Quistis?" his eyes betray disgust and disbelief.
"Unnuhhhhg." I groan, almost toppling over. My inability to form coherent sentences is starting to grate my nerves. He puts an arm on my shoulder to steady me, the action showing very little compassion. He probably just doesn't want to look bad in front of his colleagues.
"Seifer…" I breathe, erupting in a fit of coughs. What a wonderful impression I must be making.
"What are you doing here?" he questions, his eyes hard and unfeeling.
"I came to see you…" I choke.
"Oh really? After you bitch me out and completely avoid me for almost 3 weeks, you just decide out of the blue to interrupt my work looking like a half-dead grog?"
I'm almost at my breaking point. Everything I've gone through to realize I need to be here, need to stop him, just need to tell him the truth, he's pushing me further back to where I began. Part of me just wants to scream out in defense, pour everything out to him right here, but the only thing that comes to my mind is, "Don't leave."
He looks like he wants to laugh at the stupidity of my plea.
"Don't leave? Why should I stay?"
I don't know if he wants me to answer that, or if it's meant to be a rhetorical question. Even if he does want me to answer it, I don't know if I could give him a reason, a reason that I know he would welcome with open arms. I want to be that reason, but his icy glower halts me from admitting my true feelings.
"Almasy! How many times I gotta tell you boy? Get your ass back to work and swoon the ladies later!" his boss yells.
He shoots me a 'now look what you got me into' glare and I reach out and grasp his forearm.
"Please…" I can barely rasp. "Meet me below the docks when you're done… there's still so much we have to talk about…"
He looks in my eyes and I can vaguely detect a bit of the Seifer that I had revealed myself to. The Seifer I've been constantly thinking about since our night on the beach. He held my gaze a few seconds longer before turning his back coldly.
I would have lost control and cried, a wailing, sobbing wreck in the middle of the plank. I would have, if I didn't catch the implications of that spiteful stare.
He didn't refuse…
To Be Continued!
A/N: Ahh the suspense! I love it hehe! The epilogue will probably be up tomorrow, and for all the Quiefers out there, it will be worth the wait! It'll also be completely from Seifer's POV!
A/N: Gosh, all this writing is making me tired! But I love writing this, it's absolutely addictive for me and I'm having a great time! This is the last part in the series and I know that none of you are gonna like it, but that's why I'm writing an BIG epilogue in Seifer's POV. It will wrap things up with their relationship completely. So all you Quiefers can rejoice! Unless of course you guys happen to like the ending to this one, but gimme some more of your precious feedback and I'll continue! And once again, thank you all for your comments, they really mean the world to me! The more you want me to write, the more you need to review!
Disclaimer: AHHH! It doesn't belong to me! Don't sue me, I am a poor high school student with a 3.0 average and a crappy job! I'm sure that's more than you needed to know…
It's a frosty Saturday morning, and I lay on top of my sheets, scantily clad next to an open window. No, I'm not trying to attract peeping toms. For some reason, I just enjoy the way the cold air numbs my body and alerts my senses. I'm probably setting myself up for pneumonia, but so long as I can't feel a thing, I don't mind.
"Katchoo!"
Except for the occasionally violent sneeze.
I've been in a depressed stupor for weeks, working diligently to prevent human contact and turning in early each night to avoid questions. Of course, I haven't really been able to sleep either. I mostly just lie awake in bed, my window open to allow the chilled air to seep into my room and freeze my body beyond the point of feeling. I gaze at the ceiling, counting the tiles over a million times, staring at one of the fan blades, trying to follow its path until I get so dizzy I can barely see straight. When I do sleep, it's a restless, uneasy slumber, often filled with nightmares and harrowing occurrences.
I feel drugged. Helpless and alone, yet so blissfully delirious. I'm so tired. So tired, and cold, and utterly, utterly lonely. Here I am, Quistis Trepe, mistress of denial and stupidity. At one point, I truly wanted people to know me for the teenager that I am, not the overly concerned Instructor, not the nosy little girl that had to make herself a part of every squabble. But now that I look into my soul and see nothing but a spineless coward, I'm almost glad no one knows the real me. I shudder involuntarily, almost moving to close the window.
"Katchoo!"
I turn on my side, hugging myself tightly to relieve my body of some of its iciness. I close my eyes and envision a little girl standing on the beach. Her tangled mane of gold is amassed in a sloppy ponytail, her big round eyes wide with wonder. She wears a dusty pair of jeans and unlaced sneakers, her short sleeved shirt splotched with mud. That little girl, standing all by herself on the beach, is me. Little Quisty Trepe, the perpetual peacemaker and scolding sisterly figure.
If only I'd have known what I was going to grow into. I finally resolve to pry myself off of the bed and stare into the mirror. I expected to see a monster, but instead, I saw me as I have always seen me, with the exception of my distant expression and hollow eyes. I almost laugh. This must be the teenage depression syndrome so many of my students have been haunted with throughout the months. It was good to know that I would eventually get over it. Maybe everyone felt this insecure at times. Maybe everyone felt, at one point, as if the world would be a better place without them.
I pick up a brush and smooth out my hair, taming the wild bird's nest I had woken up with. I close my eyes while I fight my knotted tresses, keeping my mind off the pain that each little tug sends through my scalp. I don't care how many battles I've been through, how many cuts and bruises I've had. I'm a tender-headed girl and I expect to stay that way, no matter how much torture my hairbrush puts me through.
I try and visualize the ocean, the only thought that seems to calm me down nowadays. But in doing so, I get a mental image of his hard blue eyes, swirled with so many differing emotions. That idiot. Always finding a way to weasel his handsome face into my every thought. Jerk.
Of course I don't believe a word I think. My thoughts are what seem to get the best of me, always yanking me in different directions. I miss the days when I could be calm and calculated, not letting anything get in the way of my job. But those days were also so very bland and predictable. I let responsibility and reason dominate my life far too early. I wonder, is there any hope for me at all? Squall certainly made a dramatic improvement in his attitude, thanks to Rinoa. But I'm really not as surly as he was back then. I smile freely. I'm polite, non-aggressive. But then, I seem to have a harder time confronting my feelings.
"Katchoo!"
I muster enough energy to stand up and stretch, my body practically smiling at me for the welcomed feel. Half the joints in my body crack; has it really been that long since I've engaged in any physical activity? I make a half-hearted attempt to dress myself, lazily throwing on a fuzzy sweater and a pair of leather pants. The pants are a bit too clingy for my taste, almost like a second skin that badly needs to be shed. But it's clean and it matches, so what the hell.
Did I just think that? Seifer really has rubbed off on me. I hope I don't start cursing in class one of these days. That'll certainly get my license permanently revoked. At this point I don't know if that's good or bad, but in my mental state, I don't need the added stress of finding a new profession.
I pluck my whip, Save the Queen, from the back of the closet and gather my hair into a ponytail, deciding to venture down to the Training Center. Might as well brush up on my technique. My gaze is fixed straight ahead of me, my hands on the whip. I'm in a no-nonsense mood. Maybe eradicating a couple of monster will calm my nerves.
I hustle past a few students, not in a rush, yet driven by intense anger. A couple is making out in the hall, obviously under the assumption that no one would spend a Saturday morning fighting in the Training Center. I pay them no mind and they are completely oblivious to me.
I step inside and take in my surroundings; eerie, musky, and empty. It's a far cry from the warm sand and clear, salty air of the shores of Balamb…
A Grat pops out from the shrubbery and attempts to attack me. Ha. My whip snaps back and cracks down on the little pest, slicing him in two. That's what he gets for disturbing my thoughts.
I pause a moment after that. Disturbing my thoughts? What kind of moron goes to a monster-infested cage to dwell on life? I should be here getting rid of some bottled up aggression. Justifying my failure as a human being. Not standing around thinking about everything I want and the steps I'm too chicken to take in order to get them. I need to take action in order to rectify the things I've done wrong. I'll end up getting killed if I just stare idly at the ground like this. I start towards the exit, feeling fairly stupid. A couple of slain Mr. Grat's Grat buddies block my path. What a pain in the ass. One of them claws at me with one of its wimpy stalks. I have news for you buddy, I fought the most powerful Sorceress known to man. No cat scratch is gonna stop me. Save the Queen tears across both of them and I resume my way.
"Katchoo!"
Damn cold.
I stop to see the same couple folded in embrace, their foreheads pressed together and their eyes locked on one another.
"I love you Lindsay." The boy whispers, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.
"I love you too Josh." She puts her hand over his.
"Just shut up!" I scream at both of them, and they falter out of their romantic exchange. I storm off, not knowing where I developed such a terrifying screech, or why I even bother to shut the couple up. I think I was just trying to put them out of their misery. That girl was bound to get her eye poked out if I didn't butt in. And that boy would've gotten his heart broken anyway. She obviously didn't mean it when she told him she loved him…
But at least she was able to tell him…
I stop, strangely out of breath as I place a hand against the wall to steady myself. From around the corner I can hear the couple arguing.
"Who was that?"
"I dunno…"
"Don't play dumb with me Josh, who was she?"
"Some crazy girl I guess, how should I know?"
"Is she one of your ex-girlfriends?"
"N-no!"
"Liar!"
"Babe… where are you going?!"
"Home! I knew I should have listened to my parents when they warned me not to date you!"
I hurry off. I know I should probably run back and try to patch things up between the twosome I successfully split, but my conscience has a completely different agenda. I need to be selfish, I need to worry now about my own problems and how to fix them. I race back to my dorm.
"Instructor Trepe!" I recognize the voice as one of the students in my first hour class. Even though my mind is in a complete frenzy, I can't neglect my responsibility to my students. I turn.
"Um, about that assignment we have due Monday morning…"
I draw a blank. I assigned work over the weekend? That's awful. That's a crime. What teenager in their right mind would spend an entire weekend writing a report? …or whatever it is that I told them to do?
"Forget about it Aric. In fact, don't do any work I assign in that class ever again. Now go and have fun, it's Saturday remember?"
His jaw doesn't seem to be working; I guess it's sort of a surprise to him. Strict homework-hound Instructor Trepe telling him never to do his assignments again.
If word of this gets around, I'll loose my Instructor's license for sure.
"Oh and Aric? Make sure you tell everyone else too. Even if they're not in my class."
I scuffle off once again.
I run in the direction of my dorm room, mercilessly jostling those foolish enough to intercept my path. Since when have I been this brash, reckless and crude? Hmmph. Since I started hanging around that numbskull Seifer. That bastard. Look what he's done to me. Turned me into a walking ball of emotional nonsense, completely beat down all the proper manners and personal awareness I struggled for years to construct. Strangled my heart with the black rope of death. Branded stupid metaphors such as "black rope of death" in my head.
Finally reaching my door, I toss Save the Queen carelessly into the room and shut the door, hearing the loud clang of my whip connecting with the wall and falling onto my desk. Presumably knocking the stack of alphabetized test papers in complete disarray. What does it matter anymore? I have my entire life to live and I don't want to spend every waking hour sucking down coffee and trying to keep my eyes open long enough to determine a hundred and eighty grade point averages.
I manage to arrive at the front gate without colliding with any unfortunate bystander. I'm panting, out of breath from the exertion, the anger, the frustration that's building up inside of me. Luckily, there are very few people awake and outside at this ungodly hour and as a gust of frosty wind ravages my body, I know why.
"Katchoo!"
I feel so weak and pathetic, like a damsel in distress. I used to frown upon Rinoa for showing this kind of weakness, and now I severely regret it. I run, as fast as my legs can carry me, a dark premonition in the back of my mind urging me to pick up my speed. I search my mind and cast a quick Haste spell that I had stored away. Who would have thought I'd be in a situation outside of battle where it would be appropriate?
I feel my pace quicken although I'm not asserting any extra energy. It's quite a blessing, putting in half the effort and getting twice the result. My eyes are burning, the wind viciously assaulting them. Tears form to try and protect my baby blues from getting hurt too badly. I'm too focused to care. How long has it been since I've graced the streets of Balamb? A week? No, longer than that. Two I think. Two and a half.
The Haste spell finally starts wearing off as I reach the limits of Balamb. I feel almost tipsy, unable to run in a straight line. I slow down a bit to return the friendly waves of the mechanics and to catch my breath. What a jog. My aching muscle tissue harshly reprimands me with a violent cramp in my calf. If I wasn't so distraught, I would laugh. This is the way Laguna is supposed to cop out of a nerve-wracking situation, not me. I kick and shake it a little, flexing my toes and rotating my ankle.
A few children are walking past, and I catch a tidbit of their conversation.
"…yeah, it's at the docks!"
"…my mommy says it's…"
"It's huge…"
"I wonder where it's going?"
The docks?
"Excuse me!" I call out to them, and they turn around. The two little boys exchange a glance and grin. "I couldn't help but overhear… you say there's something going on at the docks?"
"Uh huh!" the first boy nods vigorously.
"We can show you if you want!" the other offers.
I pause. "No, thank you, I'll go take a look for myself. It might not be safe for you to go without your parents' permission."
There I go, sounding bossy and professional. The children don't seem to mind, waving me off as I hustle towards the harbor. My foot catches on a loose stone and I stutter-step, catching myself in time before meeting with the cobblestone street, and I keep going as if nothing fazed me. I brush past the owner of the Balamb Inn before he can even try to rent me a room. I guess he's hurting for business.
When I finally set foot on the harbor, I see exactly what the kids were so excited about. There's an enormous vessel, hundreds of dockhands busily swarming around it, loading boxes into the cargo bay. There are also a few mechanics making their rounds, noting anything that may need further inspection. There are several angry men with clipboards directing the others, barking out orders for them to hurry up. I scan the crowd for his sun kissed hair or his untamed oceanic eyes, but to no avail.
A worker strolls past me and I clutch his arm desperately, scaring the daylights out of him I'm sure.
"Can I help you Ma'am?" he asks uncertainly.
"I'm sorry…" I sputter, releasing his wrist. "Can you tell me what's going on?"
"You mean this?" he gesticulates around the entire mob scene. "Oh, well this big thing right here," - he points to the vessel -"is getting loaded down with Balamb imports and shipped off to Dollet."
"But why all the fuss?" I press.
"Oh well, the harbor in Dollet is really shorthanded. They have a ton of orders for merchandise, and it needs to be exported all around the world, but there are far too few men out there. Since business is so slow out here right now, our team is gonna spend some time in Dollet shipping orders."
"What? How long will you be in Dollet?"
"Umm, probably a month or two at the most. We leave tomorrow morning at noon."
A month? Maybe two? No, that was too long. If Seifer was leaving for an indeterminable amount of time, be it one month or two, that was far too long for me to settle for. He couldn't leave, not now, not when there was so much he needed to stay for.
"Do you know a dockhand by the name of Seifer Almasy?" I'm frantic, my eyes pleading with him to give me whatever information he has.
"Lady…" he begins uncomfortably. He pities me. "I really don't know. There are a lot of guys out here." He checks his watch and glances back to the laboring in front of us. "Hey look, I gotta get back to work." And he leaves.
I feel helpless, like a cat in a tree she can't get down from. There are too many men out here, and too little time. I know my boundaries; I can't very well run in the middle of everything and scream out for him. But I have to find him, he has to turn up eventually. I have to find a way to make him stay. I hear someone mention his name.
"Hey Almasy, ain't that yer girlfriend over there?" some loudmouth punk points at me. I squint my eyes, making out the figure next to him. It's Seifer, labeling a crate and hefting it to a man behind him. He peers at me from afar, and I'm delighted as he starts to walk towards me, slowly, cautiously. I follow his lead and meet him halfway. He stands at a distance, a strange expression on his face. I realize that it must be my miserable appearance.
I'm now aware that I'm shivering involuntarily, my nose raw like a strip of leather as I try to suppress another sneeze. My cheeks are red and tear-streaked from the biting gales, my breathing pattern is abnormally quick and ragged, a result of mild hyperventilation no doubt. I clutch my stomach, making a futile attempt to catch my breath.
"KATCHOO!"
"Quistis?" his eyes betray disgust and disbelief.
"Unnuhhhhg." I groan, almost toppling over. My inability to form coherent sentences is starting to grate my nerves. He puts an arm on my shoulder to steady me, the action showing very little compassion. He probably just doesn't want to look bad in front of his colleagues.
"Seifer…" I breathe, erupting in a fit of coughs. What a wonderful impression I must be making.
"What are you doing here?" he questions, his eyes hard and unfeeling.
"I came to see you…" I choke.
"Oh really? After you bitch me out and completely avoid me for almost 3 weeks, you just decide out of the blue to interrupt my work looking like a half-dead grog?"
I'm almost at my breaking point. Everything I've gone through to realize I need to be here, need to stop him, just need to tell him the truth, he's pushing me further back to where I began. Part of me just wants to scream out in defense, pour everything out to him right here, but the only thing that comes to my mind is, "Don't leave."
He looks like he wants to laugh at the stupidity of my plea.
"Don't leave? Why should I stay?"
I don't know if he wants me to answer that, or if it's meant to be a rhetorical question. Even if he does want me to answer it, I don't know if I could give him a reason, a reason that I know he would welcome with open arms. I want to be that reason, but his icy glower halts me from admitting my true feelings.
"Almasy! How many times I gotta tell you boy? Get your ass back to work and swoon the ladies later!" his boss yells.
He shoots me a 'now look what you got me into' glare and I reach out and grasp his forearm.
"Please…" I can barely rasp. "Meet me below the docks when you're done… there's still so much we have to talk about…"
He looks in my eyes and I can vaguely detect a bit of the Seifer that I had revealed myself to. The Seifer I've been constantly thinking about since our night on the beach. He held my gaze a few seconds longer before turning his back coldly.
I would have lost control and cried, a wailing, sobbing wreck in the middle of the plank. I would have, if I didn't catch the implications of that spiteful stare.
He didn't refuse…
To Be Continued!
A/N: Ahh the suspense! I love it hehe! The epilogue will probably be up tomorrow, and for all the Quiefers out there, it will be worth the wait! It'll also be completely from Seifer's POV!