act one - shatter
VIII - the best defence
Nobody will ever let you know
When you ask the reasons why
They just tell you that you're on your own
Fill your head all full of lies
The people who have crippled you
You want to see them burn
The gates of life have closed on you
And now there's just no return
- Sabbath, Bloody Sabbath, Cardigans
***
Kramer.
It wasn't a terribly illustrious family name. Nothing flashy about it - not like the gaudy fabricated families that his orphans adorned themselves with. Almasy, Leonhart - none of those would fly in the real world. And Cid was about the real world, wasn't he? He was the knight of caution and defense, protection and the salvation of the meek.
He made them strong.
Kramer was a name without anything left. It would not be remembered for the prematurely deceased Edea, who had never taken to it in her present occupation. And though he told her he'd be strong when she was gone, the headmaster knew very well that he couldn't get on without her.
His Beloved.
It sounded stupid now that Kramer was just an old man. He knew that. But he'd been a Knight once.
It had been her dream, this place. Balamb in particular. And in it, he'd had a spark of her beautiful, exotic spirit left. Something to hold on to in the too-clean catwalks and elegant fountains.
But the men who'd come to meet him in the foyer had more than once proved that he would take any bit of Edea that he could off of Cid Kramer's hands.
"You secede full control to me? " Seifer was more dangerous now, and it was not the first time that Kramer would curse himself for not having seen the capacity for destruction in this wayward child sooner. The blonde man commanded now, no longer content with rebellion, and the troops behind him seemed content with his sentiments.
All Kramer had was Xu, and she only managed to look expectant.
"Yes. She... she chose you," and she had, in a way. Even if that wasn't her but some demand from beyond time. She'd chosen him, and he'd had that flaw so common in the tragic hero that they'd been able to complete the plan.
He half-expected it not to work - or maybe that was half-hoped.
But it had. And there was nothing else to be done. So why not? Why not shake those gloved hands and finish with it?
"And why the fuck shouldn't I kill you?" the new Knight, shining and white and everything Kramer had once been in triplicate, was not letting go of the older man's outstretched palm.
"... I want no more of this. I'll leave. I promise you I won't..." Cid trailed off, directing his gaze at the floor tiles she'd picked out. If he was any kind of Knight he'd have ot get out of here and write, tell someone.. tell them what she'd really wanted. Tell them about her sacrifice. They thought she was some sort of villain or...
"Fuck you, old man. Rhetorical question. You're nothing without Edea, and we both know it," quoth the wolf. His soldiers were already fanning out, no doubt to round up the student body.
"Yes...just please, don't hurt any more of her children. "
He was tired, though. He'd been tired long before this, and without her to keep him going...
Nobody would want to remember, anway.
"Well now I won't have to, will I? The traitor fucks in Galbadia don't have anything to do with her."
The blaze spread up the boy's arm, caressing it's way to Kramer's outstretched fingers. They way it crept was fascinating; a far more relaxed pace of consumption than usually characterized the voracious fire.
Head bowed, the former headmaster resigned himself. He'd won.. and he'd failed at the same time. She'd trusted him with the after and he'd failed.
Never had been knight material.
"And neither do you."
But he'd done it... right? This was supposed to be the end of things. He wasn't supposed to have to keep fighting, not when he'd saved the world.
He had.
Really.
Hadn't he?
Anguish forces thoughts to fade to black, or some more primal frequency.
***
Thinking about him was like cutting out an ingrown nail. You knew you had to do it. You knew it wouldn't be pretty. And you knew with utter and complete certainty that it was going to hurt like hell.
Up on the screen.. she'd expected it. Thousands of miles between the, and it felt like he was the only man in the world. Fucking bastard with his throng of followers in the central square, ready to throw the dogs a bone. Oh, not anything ugly like the poor kids at Trabia. Noooo. He wouldn't owe up to things like a real soldier would - he'd gloss it over and make it shiny like a good knight.
He valued pretty things.
Fujin had thought them useless.
Perhaps that's why he never regarded her as anything at all.
They were all here with her, watching his little pep rally. Raijin was being an idiot as usual, asking if she was okay over and over again. Well meaning. Moronic. Dincht, on the other hand, was an idiot she had absolutely no care for, and was currently slavering over Squall's ever whim. The martial artist's Fearless Leader wasn't biting, though. He didn't care for words.
Fujin got that.
Still, if she'd ever needed moral support - which a soldier most assuredly did not - then this was about the best the albino was ever going to do. The wind was doped up and under control. Bring it on, fucker.
"This is Sir Seifer Almasy, Knight Commandant of the Nation of Neo-Galbadia. The gracious Headmaster Cid, realizing the rightness of our cause, has announced his gift of control of Balamb Garden for use in my crusade. Sadly, the Garden of Trabia has not yet responded to our overtures, and our own Galbadian Garden remains occupied by traitors to the ideals of the nation! But you must take heart. The recovery of Balamb is not the only joyous occasion I present to you, the Citizens of the True Republic. Today we are reborn under our most righteous of leaders. Today we greet not only the dawning of a new era for these young men and women, but for a nation. Today we are uplifted by the divine and rightful order set forth by Hyne Herself. I give you our new leader... the Sorceress Rinoa!"
Admittedly, she hadn't braced herself for this eventuality. Which was probably why she wanted to rip that black-eyed girl in half. Squall just looked interesting.
"Greetings, people of Neo-Galbadia!"
All dolled up in white with filmy cloth angel wings. Wave for the people, Rinoa. Smile for the camera. His perfect china doll, his perfect princess, his everything that she'd refused to be was solid and powerful and everything that she could never be anyways. So she'd been waiting, had she? So he'd thrown away six years of them for that stupid fling he'd kept waiting in the wings for years and she was supposed to mean more to him than that but there he was, not affected at all, on to the next Sorceress like nothing had happened at all that bastard...
"OFF!"
This was not soldierly.
"Psychotic jerkoff... he killed Quistis! I always knew that hella fucking..." Zell muttered in the background, though Fujin was oblivious.
"You wanna SHUT UP, Dincht? " Raijin, on the other hand, was not.
She was still yammering in the background when a Squall who sounded only mildly moved half-heartedly attempted to calm things down
"We shouldn't assume anything."
She was till. this was unprofessional... that ... that girl should... they should.... shut the hell up....
"OFF, NOW!"
Fujin did not wait well. It was easier to stalk out of the room than watch Zell and Raijin squabble, and Seifer profane their life.
RAGE.
***
There are certain places and certain times that one can't help but remember. A blight upon the synapses so deep that even the instability of memory is vanquished by the shadow of another time. Maybe not exactly recorded, mind you, by the workings of chemicals into a logical photograph of events. Things so profound are often embellished by the mind for various and sundry measures of drama, self-pity, or revenge.
Selphie Timlett knew, on some level or another, the second that she heard the news that this was going to be one of those moments. A Siren, pretty as she was, couldn't hope to charm her way into this particular pocket of grey matter. Sure, in later years the dive she was currently seated at the counter of was a little more tobacco-stained. The dirty, jobless old men that pinched her ass on the way in multiplied by at least three, and the coffee was much stronger than the lukewarm reject of a breakfast brew that she was currently imbibing. The waitress' unnaturally large eyes gained a malevolent air, and everything was just a touch more greasy.
But really, that's rather irrelevant.
The general gist of the thing would remain etched into granite for all time. Selphie Timlett, sittin' on a barstool at eight in the morning, trying to talk herself out of remembering a one-night stand. Nothing too out of the ordinary to this sort of place, in this sort of neighborhood, in this sort of town. And she'd started to relax into the pleather just a bit, psyching herself up to make a break for the sewers again, when Seifer Almasy's voice left the telescreen.
Yeah, yeah. They'd been looping it for an hour now. Everyone got the point. What did it matter to Selphie? Wasn't like anyone she knew was on there, and as sorry as she felt for the people there she couldn't really do anything, and she didn't' really know them. Bigger fish to fry, Selph - just keep movin' since your doing fine. You dont' need that Irvine anyways, he was just an... a...
...something.
Brooding about Irvine wasn't doing her any kinda good. Silver lining and all that had to be wandering around here somewhere.
After that came the accurate part. The hard-as-rock purity of vivid fact. No stray thoughts to be lost to Lethe here.
It started with a kind of rumbling noise from the back. The old men were cranky under their baseball caps and cheap black-market cigarettes. But it soon spread to her inner ear as the blood rushed to her head, roaring, pounding, trying desperately to drown out those enthusiastically squeaked comments form the local propaganda monger.
"Sir Seifer Almasy, concerned for the welfare of the nation and in accordance with the Sorceress Rinoa's plan for enforced global peace, has been forced to eradicate counterrevolutionary forces stationed at Trabia Garden. The mercenaries, who refused to join Sir Almasy in the crusade for world harmony, were heavily armed and obviously insurgent. Sir Almasy regrets the loss of life, and states that it pains him to have to take such measures to bring about what will surely be a glorious new age in humanity - an age without such children of war that resided there."
The voice was canned. Impersonal and brisk. And so was Selphie.
She rose, and placed a wad of gil on the table. Bathed in the screens' technicolor glow, the still-smiling waitress did not notice.
Breathe, Selph.. breathe. You can do this. You can do anything. You always thought.. they always...
There were no emerald glares to stop the men ogling her as she strode out the door, or tears to spite her eyes.
They're all dead.. all of them all your friends.. Even the SeeD ones.. all of them are.. you should have been able too...
Lisa, Maggie, Jose, gone gone gone. In the past.
But I don't want to forget them... I don't want them to be lost ot the past. Oh Hyne why...
She wasn't going to cry. Selphie Timlett never cried. Selphie Timlett was that silver lining, with a metallic strength to bear the world.
But I have to.. I have to...
Funny, it never occurred to her that metal could feel number than previously advertised.
He.. he's the only one left and I left him too oh Hyne I can't why are they I don't want to be alone...
It was easy to trace her way back to the motel. Just follow the rubble. She'd find him there, maybe. Hopefully.
Why.. why would someone do this?
She knew the answer to most of her questions. SeeDs are never stupid people, though perhaps not always proficient in the standard bastions of academia. The real morons got killed during testing.
I don't want to be alone I.. have to.. I have to...
I have to keep going.
When she got there, they told her he'd been taken away by some soldiers in a half-naked weapons bust.
But she'd find him.
I have to.
She'd wrangle disobedient lips into an iron-clad smile if she had to. And pretend to be alright. Because that was what she did, wasn't it? So that she wouldn't be alone.
I have to. Turn that frown upside-down, Selph.
I will. They wouldn't want me to dwell on them. Oh Hyne I want to dwell on...
They wouldn't take him to the palace. Probably a Caraway's Barracks. She's find him there, and then they would.. they would...
They'd want me to do something about it. That was always me. Get everyone together, do something... Festival Committee or whatever. That was why they liked me. I'm a doer, not a dweller.
It was not an unforgettable event because of the carnage or the loss or the death. Selphie had lost that much to her parasite already. Been there. Done that. Nay, it was what she decided to do next while skulking about Delling alleyways with an oddly authentic-looking cheer.
She was a doer.
And I'm gonna do like I always do. I'm gonna do something about this. My friends.. they're not in the past yet if I don't let them leave. They have to be set free... I have too..
I owe them that.
It's the kind of thing they'd think I'd do.
And she was going to do what only a professionally-trained terrorist could do. She was going to rescue herself some backup, hijack an army transport to the missile silos, and consign the last burning vestige of her friends to the past. Wipe out that monument to their memories which dared to survive in their wake.
And through it all, even if she didn't feel like
it, she was going to keep that rock-hard smile.
***
Squall Leonhart had absolutely no idea what he was doing. In her office, or attempting to gain her ear for that matter. He of all people knew the value of solitude.
"Do you need to.. talk about it?" the words made him wince. They were the kind of empty, subtanceless prattle that annoyed him to no end usually. But the lion didn't really know what else to say, and nobody was getting any useful planning done with Fujin out of commission. Nobody else was going to do anything, but what was he supposed to accomplish?
She was smart. And she was being.. irrational.
Squall didn't get women. Even women soldiers. This one was back in her office chair, staring off into space. Not crying or anything - thank Hyne, that would have been worse - but.. upset. Or something. He didn't know. How was he supposed to know? This was not good.
Sure, there were rumors about... goings on between her and Almasy, but the lion had seen no need to pay attention to gossip. The world according to Zell held no tangible interest. And the wind had seemed too sensible for that sort of idiocy.
"What do you think?" an equally empty answer. In the comprehension department, things were looking up.
They were due to arrive at the Esthar border in a couple hours. He needed her logical.
...Needed? No. he didn't need people. Bad word choice. Owed her was more like it.
"... you're upset." It wasn't a question, and her lack of violent response gave the mercenary valid tactical reason to think that he could move a bit closer. Maybe over to the side of the desk.
"Why do you care?" she ran herself in circles like the sea breeze.
Reap the whirlwind.
"We do have a Garden to save," the storm looked down upon his sort-of partner.
"Fuck the Garden," it was suprisingly bitter.. for her. The commander looked like she could use a drink.
But even sober she wasn't making sense, so that was a no go.
"Excuse me?"
"He'll win,' dejected. Squall understood that too, but it was the last thing they needed. Surely, if she were thinking clearly, the woman would be ashamed of herself.
If he thought correctly.
"How do you know?" a good question. Almasy hardly had an overpowering tactical advantage if they were able to recruit Esthar to their side. Superior tech like that shielding had almost crushed Galbadia before, and that was without the largest Garden onside. The Commander should know that.
"He already has," Fujin grumbled, attempting to seethe stoically. Stoic really wasn't her thing.
Irrational. He didn't know how to reason someone out of irrational, and reason was just about all the mercenary had.
So he did what any good fighter would do in this situation to a shocked comrade. Specifically, the leather-clad warrior bent down and took a delicate lily-white chin in his left hand. The right gloved palm slapped her.
That brought some life back, at least, as well as putting a bit of red in the woman's cheeks...
"RAGE!"
"Calm down. We pull into FH in an hour," Squall shushed her, hoping against all hope that his 'brilliant' plan would return Fujin to semi-coherency soon. It was hard being the only sane person in the Garden. Being surrounded by morons had never been a life plan, but things always ended up that way for some odd reason and...
That this was what she must do was left unsaid. A Fujin worth working with - the Fujin who had managed to draft him into this foolishness - would know what he'd been doing.
She wasn't saying anything either, though. Not a sound marred the electrical buzz of militarily-inclined white noise. It was... disconcerting. Squall felt like he should be doing.. something... he didn't know..
"I... liked Rinoa, you know. A bit, " Leonhart offered before he knew what he was saying. Wasn't planning on thinking about that. Just sort of came up. He was.. glad that Heartilly was alive. She was the fragile kind - the sort that wouldn't make it on their own.
Odd. He usually despised that.
It was getting colder in the room. The AC was working overtime again. Maybe Leonhart should just leave her be... with what he'd seen of Fujin, she might try to stab him or something now..
"I should break up Raijin and Zell."
Dincht would probably smash the flight console or something equally moronic, and Hyne knew what Raijin would do with that big stick thing to their comm equipment...
"Let them be. They're morons, " the short-haired woman shook her head slowly, finally heeding his presence again. " We'll figure out how to approach Loire."
Under control again. Good. All was right with the world.
"Now?"
" NOW"
Somehow, on the lower frequencies, he knew that she was in her own way thanking him. By working and being unobtrusive or whatever elusive quality it was that the rain liked so much as to join with he wind in hurricane.
The remainder of Squall Leonhart was breathed a fairly apathetic sigh of relief before taking a seat.
"We want nothing to do with this .. conflict."
"Yes. But Esthar will want to force us into an alliance."
"Certainly."
"Maybe they'll pay."
***
Surprisingly enough, Zell Dincht and Raijin Kasim were not beating each other to bloody pulps in the command room. Not that doing so wouldn't' have been extremely attractive to both parties, but they had buds to take care of.
If opposites attract, the like must repulse like.
"He's not good for her, ya know," an eavesdropping giant whispered.
"You mean she'd hella not good for him, " Zell never could resist the urge to combative, even when listening at a doorway. Mr.Stealth he was not.
".. Yeesh, they need to lighten up, ya know? When Seifer was around..."
"I hear ya. At least with that stupid Rinoa chick Squall would loosen up kinda. Together," Zell shuddered, "They're, like, robot-people."
"I just hope they figure out we gotta take on Seifer before this creepy no-feeling thing gets, ya know, outta hand. Fujin hasn't kicked me for hours. That's never good, ya know? "
"Totally."
"Hey! What's that supposed ta mean?"
"Shhhh - we're spying."
They didn't notice Fujin cast a red-eyed glance at the entrance to the office, nor did they catch a white-furred shrug and mouthed 'whatever'. That was probably for the best.
" We gotta do something!"
"Hell yeah!"
Nodding conspiratorially, the two non-friends
wandered off to concoct a plan. That didn't even merit the acknowledgement
of an overused catchphrase.
***
Laguna Loire didn't have many things going for him.
Okay, so he was president of the second largest and most technologically advanced nation on the planet. Well... and he had that cool spaceship thing. And he got to pay his two best buddies and informal posse exorbitant amounts of money to do little more than harass him into completing paperwork. And he'd put some evil man/woman/sorceress monster on ice and saved the world and stuff. That plus the fact that half the nation's women wanted to get into his pants faster than you can say 'man with the machine gun'.
But still. Didn't matter. Loire was firmly convinced of the fact that he was horribly, terribly deprived.
"Hey Kiros - what's up!"
Take, for example, the man currently passing through a perfunctory retinal scan to gain access to the presidential suite. Talk, dark, and somewhat effeminate - that was his best buddy. It was always kinda depressing to Laguna that Kiros hadn't, y'know, been there when the president heard that Raine was pregnant.
He had a way of making sure that Laguna didn't screw up. Kinda like the national ... stopper... of bad things... type.. guy. Yeah. Whatever.
So really, didn't it sorta suck to be Laguna right now? Y'know, comparatively? Julia and Raine were gone - nope, not gonna think about it an' let that get him all down - and Kiros wasn't there. Leading back to wanting to be like Kiros, which Laguna knew he never would be for reasons beyond simple stuff like the fact he would look really crappy in dreads. His knee was all hurting with that stabbing joint collapsing pain thing - what was up with that? - and his son...
His son was on the telescreen.
Kiros better get here soon. An errant 'hi' over the intercom wasn't really helping anything. Besides which Laguna knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had absolutely no idea how to deal with this.
"President Loire?" the boy, who looked way too much like Raine not to cause a bit of heartache here and there, was all dome up like a soldier. Laguna knew he shouldn't really be surprised - kid wasn't raised in the nice shiny semi-transparence of Esthar, was he? Hell, the reluctant politician and president-for-life his kind was gonna be a soldier. Guess he just always thought that.. that...
That he wouldn't really take to it. Like his old man, eh? He'd always just kind of... you know.. figured. Wasn't like he could've gone back.
"Sorry, sorry.. we should wait for my aide, alright?" realizing that the kid was looking at him funny, and that leaning into a mahogany desk had left a nasty red mark on his arm, the former journalist straitened up and answered.
"I understand," again the soldier thing. The boy sounded like a polar bear on ice. The steel and crimson and strange blinking lights behind him didn't really help with that.
Laguna hadn't planned for him to turn out that way. He didn't plan on alot of things, really. Just sorta assumed his son would be with him one day, just like he assumed that he would take as badly to gunpowder and bloodshed as his old man had. He'd never really figured out that he wasn't working with the greatest of partners. Lady luck had covered the ex-journalist's back for most of his adult life with a good-calibre rifle and the aim born of a blind infatuation. But she was never good for the big stuff like love and family and death.
Fuck, his leg hurt.
Calling it an uncomfortable situation was an understatement.
But his sort-of aide was here, so all was well. Kiros was quiet and good with sneaking type things, but that lanky frame gave him away by the light of the hallway.
Well, that and the motion sensors. Whatever. Here he comes to save the day.
"Kiros!" Laguna waves the stick of a man in, though he seemed content to catch his breath. Guy had to start exercising more, 'cause Laguna sure as hell wasn't getting older and neither was the rest of the world. Must be out of shape.
"President Loire," regaining himself through Hyne knew what means, Kiros moved into the screen's range of visibility.
"Kiros, may I introduce Commander..." gesturing towards the lad - Laguna had always talked with his hands - Loire attempted to do the presidential thing. He did have practice, if not aptitude.
"Co-Commander."
The president was not usually interrupted, but then this wasn't just any president. And Squall wasn't just any petitioner. And it was hard not to be just a tiny bit bemused when he caught the highly significant twitch made in the direction of a certain albino young lady. Ah. Weird how short-and-pissed could be so completely opposite to Kiros and yet so the same. Maybe Squall took after his pop after all... just a little.
No use going there. Even Laguna knew when his chance was up.
"Co-Commander Squall Leonhart of Galbadia Garden, then," it wasn't hard for him to smile. Laguna was good at it.
"Kiros Seagill, my advisor," introductions thankfully made to par, his friend nodded. Still standing, though - wouldn't do to have him sit in the president's 'illustrious' presence.
"The Co-Commander has petitioned us for asylum, Kiros."
Squall looked tense. They wanted different things, Laguna knew.
"And?" Seagill raised a brow.
"I've agreed to allow Galbadia Garden to dock here in the short term," Laguna asked-without-asking. He knew Kiros would catch on. Always did.
"As you wish, sir."
Oh, right. That was the signal for 'good'. Excellent. Kiros would want them to do something about Almasy - hell, Laguna kind of did too - but it... it would be nice to see him. Just to have seen him.
This was why he needed Kiros around. They were on the brink of a third Sorceress War, and the president of the world's nominally most powerful nation was obsessing about a kid he'd never met.
"You have our thanks," the scarred mercenary nodded, crystal-clear an the latest flatscreen tech. Not mousish like Raine at all - he had his dad's charisma too, even if he didn't know it. When he was a kid the chicks went wild for that small grin thing.
'Course, Laguna'd been faking. But still.
"We need to make preparations to land."
"Of course. We'll meet again once you're settled and discuss the Almasy situation."
And lo, the echo of rain was consigned to static.
"Fuck... my leg is killing me. Kiros, call my physiotherapist..."
***
~FITHOS LUSEC WECOS VINOSEC~
Midnight. It was always midnight here. Starless.
She could still hear them when they were near her. If she wanted too.
"Heya Trepe - glad not to be dead yet, bitch? You're lucky Rinoa had a Sorceress' delicacy."
~FITHOS LUSEC WECOS VINOSEC ~
She was singing with them. They were teaching her how to.
"Not that I don't want one, understand, but I can afford to wait until you croak. She plays her part perfectly."
~FITHOS LUSEC WECOS VINOSEC~
The midnight she floated in shifted with a thousand shades of pitch black. They were with her. She was not alone.
"How does it feel not to be needed, Trepe? You were always so fucking obsessed with having your little groupies and hangers on."
~FITHOS LUSEC WECOS VINOSEC~
But she was not dead. Oh no. They were just teaching her the songs.
"They're scared of her because of some nylon wings. It's no wonder they need me around! You fucking moron, if you'd have been reasonable that could've been you. Skank. "
They'd let her hear them, talking over her body/home/anchor. The girl - blue/angel/air - hadn't been able to kill her. She would learn no songs today.
"The whole country is mine now. Nobody resists a sorceress. As it should be."
It was darker beneath her eyelids, when she bothered to look her. They'd hidden her away somewhere. They didn't bother with the chemical/sleep/unconciousness that the ones before them had. Made it easier to sing.
"And I killed your little fucktoy Cid. Is poor Quisty upset?"
~FITHOS LUSEC WECOS VINOSEC~
"Trabia too. Mine. I just have to take Esthar and everything will be perfect. You'll just have to have a little... accident, in a while "
Quistis was a quick study.
"Poor instructor. You'd be ever so upset with me. Maybe even punish me with that big, baaad whip of yours."
It would be time to wake up soon.
"Tomorrow, I'll take aim at Fisherman's Horizon. They harbor traitors, and they are the gateway to the lost republic. Balamb will fly and the world will know the authority of a Sorceress. Tomorrow I'm going to start a holy war. Aren't you proud? "
~FITHOS LUSEC WECOS VINOSEC!~
***
Author's note: Yeah, I know it's been a while. Quite honestly, I'd fully planned to never touch this fic again. Lack of inspiration and rot.
But hey, sometimes lightning stikes twice. I blame 'Sabbath, Bloody Sabbath'. that is *the* Selphie inspirational song. Sure, it sounds all goth and doofy with the lyrics, but the tune itself sounds really cute and happy.
Bah. Oddly enough, I thought that Selphie
was one of the strongest people in the game. Selphie, Fujin, and
Quistis. Weird, non? But even though she seems like a flake, she
really kept it together even when Trabia blew up and stuff, unlike several
other semi-psychotic angst-factories I could name ^_^ .