Squall paused outside the door to his room, preparing himself for the battle ahead. As he swung the door open, he saw Rinoa, silhouetted in the window, shoulders tense with anger. She glanced up at him, fury in her dark eyes. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, leaning up against it, unsure of where to begin.
"You know," she said, "Selphie and Irvine fight about things like his flirting with other girls. She doesn't have to worry about being held hostage against her father."
"You aren't a hostage," he replied.
"Oh? Let's see, you flew to meet my father, knowing he wouldn't hurt you because I stayed behind in Garden, where I could be killed if anything happened to you. 'Hostage' sounds like a pretty good word for it."
"First, no one here has any intention of..."
"What?" she interrupted. "Are you going to tell me how apparent force is just as important as actual force? Because I've heard that speech before, 'General.'"
"You're safer here than you are in Galbadia. That's why I needed you to stay. I admit, I knew your father wouldn't hurt me because you're here. Llyriance showed up at the meeting, and I promise you, he'd take you prisoner if he thought it would benefit him."
"Great. Well, at least I'm being held hostage for the good of all of Garden, instead of just you."
Squall took a deep breath, trying to maintain his focus. He stepped away from the door, looking at the carpet for a long moment. "Look, right now, things are very delicate. Everyone in this Garden is counting on me. They're putting their lives in my hands."
"I know, I know, you have a duty. We've been over this before. It's just... hard to know that you put your duty first."
"I don't," Squall said, speech slow and careful. "Remember when we found the Ragnarok? I threw myself into space because I couldn't bear to see you die, not if I hadn't done everything to save you. I didn't expect to survive. And it didn't matter, because... I knew I couldn't... go on without you."
Rinoa felt the anger flooding out of her. "Squall, I..."
"Please," he held up a hand, "let me finish. I've got to say this. I wanted you here... so I could watch out for you I'm your Knight, and I'm the one responsible for keeping you safe."
She walked over to Squall, wrapping her arms around him, tears welling up in her eyes. She held him like that for a moment, before, through her tears, she started laughing.
"What?" he said, stepping back to look at her.
She pulled him back in, and laughed for a moment longer. "It's just funny. You always talk about how you don't know what to say. But you always do. I'm on to your little act."
He leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead. "And," he whispered, closing his eyes, "I needed you here for me."
* *
"Okay," Quistis said, addressing her class, "who can tell me what this is?" She pressed a button and an image popped up on the screen behind her: an enormous plant with row upon row of dagger-like teeth, a multitude of eyestalks and countless writhing tentacles. Several hands went up in the air. Quistis pointed to Tia, a thirteen-year old junior cadet seated in the third row.
"It's a malboro," the girl answered.
"Good," Quistis replied. "What else can you tell us about it?"
"It's a plant with rudimentary intelligence. It metabolizes chlorophyll like other plants, but supplements its diet with meat – mostly scavenged, which is partly responsible for its dangerously bad breath."
"And why do we care about its dental hygiene?"
"Because the malboro's breath is toxic to humans, causing a wide range of side effects including blindness, delusions, paralysis, and, if not treated promptly, heart failure."
"Correct, and on that note," Quistis said, glancing at the clock, "we'll have to end class. Do the reading on the syllabus and be ready for a quiz. Dismissed."
The students stood up and filed out of the room. Tia remained behind, waiting as Quistis answered questions from other students.
"Instructor Trepe?"
"Yes, Tia?"
"Do you ever read Occult Fan magazine?"
"I have in the past," Quistis replied, thinking of the brush she, Squall, and the others had with an extraterrestrial during their quest to defeat Ultimecia. "Why?"
"Well, there have been reports of a new monster in the Grandidi Forests. See, here?" Tia produced a copy of the magazine article, featuring a sketch of the creature – a hulking humanoid with a pyramid-shaped head. "A few hunters stumbled across this thing in what they think is its lair. They found it sitting among a pile of bones and it started to chase them. It skewered one of them, but the other two got away."
"And?" Quistis asked.
"And I want to run a capture mission. Go into the forest, find the thing, and bring it back for study."
"You're only thirteen years old. Are you sure you're ready?" She hated asking that question. Quistis had heard it enough in her life. She saw Tia rail against her inquiry, knew that the girl wanted to mention the fact that Quistis ran her first mission at the age of thirteen. Sensing a trick question, Tia composed herself.
"I've read the incident reports from the sighting. I've contacted the author of the article, as well as the two surviving hunters. There have also been subsequent incidents that haven't been published yet, and I've read all of those. And, if you look here," Tia now produced a map of the forest, marked with a red circle, "I've narrowed down the search area to an easily manageable size. I'm ready."
Quistis sat down at her desk and punched up Tia's profile. "I see you've already taken courses in mission profiling and squad leadership."
"Yes. And last term, my squadron took first place in our combat exercises. I can handle this."
Quistis could hear the resolution in the girl's voice. "I'll tell you what. I'll sign off on the mission as long as you take two members of SeeD with you. Will you have a problem finding them?"
"No, Instructor," Tia replied, face flush with excitement.
"Okay. Write up a mission profile and send it to me. I'll look it over and take it to Commander Leonhart. I doubt he'll object, so you should be all set."
"Thank you, Instructor Trepe!" the girl exclaimed.
"Sure thing. Just be careful."
Tia left the room with an enormous smile on her face, thrilled at winning Quistis's support.
"She reminds me of you at that age," said a voice from the back of the room. Quistis looked up in surprise.
"Seifer!" she exclaimed, seeing him seated in his old spot in the back row. "I didn't hear you come in!"
"Well, I spent so much time sneaking out of class, I thought I'd try sneaking in. You know, for variety."
"And what brings you back to class, Seifer? Are you here to serve some of your detention time?"
"You know," Seifer said, smiling, "I kept this scrapbook of all the incident reports that were filed against me. Zell got bored one time, and did the math, and says I'm supposed to be in the detention center until sometime after my twenty-seventh birthday."
"I can believe it," Quistis laughed. "I did try to keep you out of trouble." One eyebrow arched up. "'Try' being the operative word."
"Yeah. You did. And I'm sorry I made things so tough for you."
Quistis shrugged. "We were kids. A lot has changed since then."
Seifer leaned forward in his seat, smiling. "Yeah. I'm dodging Cid at every turn, and you're the still the model of SeeD propriety."
"I am not!" Quistis exclaimed, aghast. "I was as ill-behaved as anyone else around here." She paused for a beat. "Well, maybe not as bad as you."
"How many demerits did you have?"
"One."
"Oh, please!" he snorted. "And how old were you when you received your precious demerit?"
"Eleven," she replied, without hesitating. "You and Squall were fighting and I was trying to stop you two, but we all got written up for it."
"You see? The only demerit you ever got, and it was a mistake."
"You're right," she sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "I was always scared of making a mistake."
"Well," he answered, rising to his feet, "there's no time like the present." In a few short strides, he crossed the room, extending a hand to her. "Come on."
"Why?" she asked, standing up. Seifer had already reached the door and started down the hallway. "Where are we going?" she called after him.
He turned to face her, walking backwards with a cunning smile on his face. "We're going to do something you'll regret."
* *
"What are we doing here?" Quistis shouted, trying to make herself heard over the deafening bass of the club's sound system. Seifer didn't reply, sliding through the crowd and up to the bar. Having placed his order, he turned and gestured Quistis in the direction of a table. She darted across the crowded room and reaching the table moments ahead of another woman, who left in annoyance to seek out an empty table.
She sat down and waited for Seifer, taking in the club's distinct lack of charm. Originally a warehouse, the walls of the club had no decoration. Bare steel girders and pillars served as the building's support structure – a precarious one at that, judging from the signs of metal fatigue. The owners made a conscious decision, she guessed, to pour their profits into the enormous sound system, the club's only redeeming feature. The throng of people on the dance floor seemed oblivious to the place's flaws.
"What do you think?" Seifer said, approaching the table, drinks balanced precariously in hand.
"The music's too loud, the people here are probably sub-literate, and I think the building is structurally unsound. If they turn the bass level up any higher, I'm afraid it will shake the girders apart and the whole building will collapse." Quistis still had to shout to make her voice audible.
"Yeah," Seifer yelled back, grinning, "I wouldn't recommend the food either."
"Why did you get three drinks?" she asked. "Is someone joining us?"
"Just you and me," he said, sliding two of the drinks over to her side of the table. "Drink up."
Quistis started to protest, but Seifer raised his glass and extended one finger, silencing her. "Okay," she sighed. She raised her glass and drained it, the alcohol stinging her throat on the way down. This done, she emptied the other glass, setting it down beside its twin. "Happy?"
Seifer consumed the alcohol in his glass in one gulp. "Delighted," he said, turning over his shoulder and gesturing to a waiter.
"You're ordering more?" she asked, incredulous.
"Of course. You're not drunk."
She shook her head. "So why are you intent on getting me drunk? Planning on taking advantage of me?"
One corner of his mouth turned upward. "I just think you need to relax a little. Let your hair down. Get your mind off Squall and Rinoa."
"Ugh," Quistis rolled her eyes. "I think I do need another drink."
"Things not going well, huh?"
"Same as ever."
"Well, I don't envy Squall right now. I've been on the receiving end of Rinoa's wrath, and it's not fun."
"So, Seifer," Quistis said, leaning in to him, "you've been there. Maybe you can help me understand. Why Rinoa?"
Seifer looked down into his drink for a moment. "I don't have anything but theories, but if..."
"Come on, Seifer, skip the disclaimers."
"Okay, okay. Theory the first: I think part of it is the inherent difference. Not only is Rinoa unlike Squall, she's unlike anyone he's ever met. She's from a world that's completely different from anything he's ever known"
"How so?" Quistis took another sip of her drink.
"Well, think about it," he replied. "Squall – well, all of us at Garden, really – spent our lives around professional soldiers, or people who were learning to be soldiers. That's the world we know. And I think that it affects the way we grow up."
"Yeah. I came to Garden just after my tenth birthday..."
"And how old were you the first time you saw a friend die?" he asked.
"Eleven."
"Exactly. We all have a similar story. And that's what I mean. We grow up with death playing a central role in our lives. And while Julia died when Rinoa was only five, Rinoa got to have a relatively normal childhood."
"We, on the other hand, grew up wondering if we'd survive final exams."
"So, for Squall, meeting someone who didn't grow up in our world was probably quite a shock."
"Yeah," she said, "and the fact that she hit on him while wearing an extremely short dress probably didn't hurt either."
Seifer laughed. "Wow. Why don't you tell me what you really think?"
"Sorry," she replied, brushing a strand of her hair behind one ear. "Can I blame it on the alcohol?"
Seifer closed one eye and looked critically at her. "Oh, not for at least another drink or so."
"Fine," she answered, draining the glass in a few short swallows. "Order more."
He slapped the table, a grin on his face. "That's the spirit."
A quick frown crossed her face. "I hope that wasn't a pun, Seifer. I have no desire to listen to you wine."
"Well met, madam. In deference to your upcoming intoxication, then, I'll forgo the puns."
"Good," she shot back, winking, "normally, I'd be glad to engage in a battle of wits, but I never strike an unarmed man."
"Well, if you're going to adopt that attitude, I won't honor you with theory the second." Quistis mimed locking her mouth shut and throwing away the key. After a moment, Seifer continued. "That's better. Anyway, theory the second: Rinoa needs Squall. She needs a protector. She's strong, in her way, but at the same time, she needs someone to hold her when she wakes up from a nightmare. And I think he likes that."
"So basically," she sighed "he wants someone who didn't grow up in Garden, isn't a SeeD, and can't take care of herself."
"I think you're oversimplifying a bit, but yes. At least, that's what I think he wants now."
"No wonder I'm the overlooked one."
"Have you ever thought that maybe it's for the best that way? I know you think you'd be happy if you were in Rinoa's shoes. But I don't think you would be. You have too much talent to live in Squall's shadow for the rest of your life. You've spent enough years doing that as it is."
"You know something, Seifer? You're right," with this she emptied her glass again, then stood up, putting her hands on her hips. "Enough talk. Dance now."
"No," he replied, "I'd better stay here and guard our table."
Quistis, now feeling the effects of the alcohol, scowled. "But I want to dance!"
"So go find someone cute and start dancing. Let yourself go."
"Fine," she nodded her head sharply. "I will." So saying, she grabbed Seifer's glass and emptied it, too, before heading off to the dance floor
"Have fun," he murmured, watching her retreat into the crowd.
* *
Zell slid through the door, head starting to bob in time to the thundering beat. As he closed the door behind him, he paused for a moment to allow his eyes a moment to accustom themselves to the dim lighting. In the center of the room pulsed a throng of people, blissfully lost amidst the deafening music. While Zell would normally head for the dance floor and dance until faced with dehydration, this time, he came in search of Seifer, propelled by a brief note written in Seifer's ornate script.
As Zell glanced around the club, he noticed a flurry of activity in the center of the floor. Not tall enough to see very far into the crowd, he only got an occasional glimpse – a flash of long blonde hair one moment, the swirl of a red dress the next. He tried to move closer, but the people around him seemed determined to keep him away from the dance floor.
"Fine," Zell muttered. Without hesitating, he grabbed an empty chair from a table near him and stood on top of it, looking across the room. Sure enough, he'd seen Quistis in the center of the dance floor. She appeared to be dancing, not just with one man, but with several, all jockeying for space around her. She'd focus on one man for a moment, dancing close, her lean body moving in time with the music before she twirled away, moving on to someone else.
His hunt for Seifer abandoned, Zell stared. He never, in his wildest imaginings, would have anticipated seeing Quistis like this.
"Get off that chair," came a smug voice from beside him. "You look ridiculous."
Zell glanced down to see Seifer standing next to him. "Sorry," Zell said, hopping off his perch. He stepped in close to Seifer, emphasizing the difference in their heights. "Not all of us happen to be freakish giants."
Seifer laughed. "Don't worry. You may be short, Zell, but you command lots of respect. There are a lot of people who look up to you. True, most of them are tonberrys..."
Zell snorted and stared back out at the dance floor. "It's Quistis," he said, turning back in amazement.
"I know," Seifer answered, a note of pride in his voice.
"What...? I mean, why? I mean... Is she drunk?"
"Exceedingly."
"And you're responsible?"
"Also correct. In case you were wondering, she can hold a surprising amount of alcohol."
"I'm impressed. Yet another person you've managed to corrupt," Zell said, sliding one arm around Seifer.
"I figured she could stand to have a little fun. You know, do something outside of Garden."
"Well, I'd say you succeeded. She does seem to be having fun."
"Yeah," Seifer said, watching her with one eyebrow raised. "And I'd say we have a few more hours before she starts to wind down. You wanna dance, shrimp?
* *
"Looks like the sun will be up in a few hours," Zell said as he and Seifer exited the bar, balancing Quistis between them.
"That was Zell with the weather!" Quistis exclaimed, her voice echoing over the quiet Balamb street. "Next up, Seifer and the sports report."
"Okay, Quistis," Zell whispered, trying to hush the girl up, "that was a little loud."
"Loud?" she bellowed. "This is loud. 'Whenever sang my song...'"
Abandoning the pretense at civility, Zell clapped a hand over her mouth, which didn't stop her from singing around his hand.
"We can't take her back to Garden like this," he said. "What are we going to do with her?"
A voice from behind them called through the darkness, "She can come home with us."
Fanned out across the street stood four young men, all clad in motorcycle jackets, doing their best to look menacing.
"What are you supposed to be?" Zell laughed. "Are you like Balamb's one gang?"
The tough in the lead snarled as he unfolded a switchblade. "Just for that, blondie, we're going to kill you and the girl."
A buzzing noise started to echo in Seifer's skull, the volume increasing with every second. He shifted Quistis's weight over to Zell and stepped forward. "Zell, take Quistis and get out of here."
"But Seifer..."
"Go!" he snapped, and thunder rang in his voice.
"Come on, Zell," Quistis, the danger of the situation starting to bring her back to her senses, said. "He'll be fine."
Seifer heard their footsteps retreating behind him, the sound fading away, lost in the noise of his mind. The leader of the group stepped forward, his knife gripped between his long fingers. Seifer, without hesitating, pounced at the man.
The man barely had time to raise his knife into a fighting position. Before he could blink, Seifer had whipped his trenchcoat around the man's arm, causing him to lose a grip on his knife. Seifer grabbed the knife and pulled the thug to the ground, driving the blade deep into his opponent's throat.
Without moving from his position, Seifer lashed out, driving the knife into the next man's kneecap. As number two crumpled two the ground Seifer, leaping back to his feet, kicked the fallen assailant in the head, steel-toed boot causing the skull to crack audibly.
In another bound, Seifer leapt over the two bodies at his feet, blade arcing out and slicing number three across the forehead. This man screamed, blinded by his own blood. Seifer ducked in low and stabbed this man in the stomach.
Suddenly, Seifer heard someone call his name. The buzzing, no longer counting out a perfect rhythm for him, returned in force.
"Seifer!" He heard Zell's voice this time. Looking around, Seifer found the ground slick, the knife in his hand shedding rubies onto the street below.
He looked at the fourth man, who wore a look of panic. "Run," Seifer snarled through clenched teeth. Wasting no time, the man took to his heels, leaving his comrades to pour out their lives.
"What happened?" Zell asked, a mixture of concern and horror in his voice.
"The buzzing," Seifer replied, focusing on returning his pulse to normal.
"Again?"
"Again."