Reality had come crashing back to Squall in waves of noise, punctuated by the intrusive comments and friendly gestures of his classmates. All at once, there was a surge of adrenaline and mild panic, as though he had been caught unawares in the middle of a battlefield. His senses were overloaded, and his only thought was getting some privacy.
Keeping his head down, he moved as swiftly as protocol would allow to one of the stone terraces. The rush of a mercifully cool ocean breeze helped him catch his breath as he leaned forward onto the limestone railing. The sweet scent of the flowers from the Quad just below them aided in his recovery. The world was tangible again. Hard flagstone floor, polished railing, sweet summer flowers, cool ocean breeze. The fantasy girl would soon be scrubbed from his mind as well.
He looked further beyond the reaches of the campus, towards the Gaulg Mountains, behind which lay the vast northern sea. The reaches of Trabia, and the home of Ambassador Uma and his ilk. The brilliant golden halo gently swaying above the Garden illuminated the darkness below with a radiance that rivaled the sun.
Squall tried to take his mind off it, a task easier said than done. He had learned a trick for dealing with anxiety when he was a boy, which he had just deployed without realizing it. Focusing on the present, finding things in the immediate moment that could be clung to; Centering, they called it. Its intended use was remaining focused in combat, but it had fringe benefits.
Squall patted the railing and tried to take stock of where he was. The small outcropping was built to cover up a bit of clumsy repair work to the lower floors roof and through serendipity created one of Balamb Garden's most stunning features. Bathed in moonlight, the school was even more beautiful – silvery light dancing across the marble rooftops and cobblestone walkways. Crickets outside were trying to harmonize with the music coming from within, an orchestra of animal and nature.
This was home, at least the only home that Squall could truly remember. If he reached back into the recesses of his mind, a few faint images came to him - marble columns, rough walls, the crashing sounds of waves, and a flashing light on the horizon. He was not sure where this life ended and his current one began, but it did not matter. This was his home now.
Soon he would leave it behind as well.
SeeDs were deployed all over the world. They could spend weeks or even months on any given assignment. There would be a room for him, but there would not be the comfort of knowing that he could remain within the walls. It was no longer a shield, it was a base. It was not where he lived, it was where he worked.
He supposed he could always apply to become an Instructor. That was no good. He lacked an interest in the social aspects. And besides, his academic marks were merely passable. What could he teach?
Combat, but that's about it.
Maybe in several years when he was a properly jaded adult, he could come back to teach a new generation how to kill. But for the time being, his place was wherever his next contract led him.
"Needed some fresh air?" came the voice of Quistis.
"Some quiet, actually," Squall replied, before quickly adding, "Ma'am."
Quistis took a few calculated steps toward Squall, her arms folded in that slightly superior way of hers. Her expression was softer than usual, and she seemed to be looking anywhere but at Squall.
"You really are an excellent student," Quistis smiled. "Even that dance was perfect."
"Ma'am?" Squall asked, cocking his head to the side.
Quistis let out that unintentionally patronizing little laugh of hers. "You don't have to stand on ceremony, Squall. It's a party."
Squall nodded, but said nothing back, leaning over the balcony and drinking in the view.
"So, you'll dance with somebody you don't even know, but you can't stand to be around me?" Quistis asked, attempting to hold on to her usual chipper tone. There was a certain bitter after-taste, though.
She's up to something.
"Isn't it obvious?" Ifrit asked, suddenly alert.
Squall pondered this for a moment, before finally responding. "Whatever. I'm a student, you're my teacher. It's kind of... awkward."
Quistis nodded again, brushing a hair out of her face. There was a gap in the conversation, such as it was. She idly played with one of the buttons on her SeeD uniform, her free hand dangling awkwardly at her side.
"So," Quistis said, breaking the silence and moving closer to Squall, slightly within his personal space. "I've come to ask a favor of you."
Squall turned to face her. Instructors did not ask favors of their students. But then again, Squall was not a student anymore. And knowing Quistis as he did, Squall had a feeling this would not be a simple request.
"What's that?" he asked cautiously.
"You go to the Training Center quite regularly. In fact, you probably know it better than anybody. Are you familiar with the fire escape around the back that students call the 'secret area'?" Quistis asked.
Squall knew the place. He would often see lusty-eyed boys leading naive girls out there – and sometimes vice versa – in blatant disregard for the school rules about promiscuous behavior. There were only a few reasons Squall could think of why Quistis would be bringing this up now of all times.
"That secret spot students go to fool around?" Squall asked. "That sounds like work for the Disciplinary Committee."
As if Seifer had not led a few girls himself there at times, Squall thought. He then remembered that Seifer was facing discipline himself.
Quistis rubbed her forehead and let out a protracted, and rather telling, sigh. "No, Squall. Look, get dressed in something sensible, and meet me at the Training Center. This will be my final order as your Instructor."
She turned to leave, doubtless to go change herself. A thought ran across the back of Squall's mind, but he silenced it. He was being stupid.
Squall managed to find his way out of the Ball, but it was not without complications. Their withdrawal from Dollet had gone smoother. First Zell tried to wave him over to come talk to the Shumi Ambassador, but that was easy enough to avoid. He simply pretended he did not notice Zell, if only to preserve common courtesy. Then Selphie walked right up to him to try and strike up a conversation with her date. This required a bit more direct intervention, but as Squall did not want to admit that he was going to meet Quistis at the most scandalous place on campus, he simply feigned illness and excused himself.
As if dodging his two classmates was not troublesome enough, a member of the Garden Faculty who was standing on watch near the door asked him where he was off to. Squall did not feel like lying to somebody of such authority, but he did not have to tell the whole truth.
"I'm just off to the Dormitory. Not much of a party-goer," Squall claimed.
It was somewhat true; he was off to his room. The doorman seemed to suspect the lie of omission, but technically speaking Squall was not required to stay for the entire event.
As soon as he was out of the ballroom, the rest of the journey was rather uneventful. Most of the student body had gone to bed, although Squall did pass a couple of young Sabers heading towards the Training Center. They seem too engrossed in their own conversation to take notice of him, which suited Squall just fine.
All in all, he took about ten minutes to return to his dorm room, and another five to get changed, most of which was hanging up his uniform. He slid on a pair of his black leather pants and a white t-shirt, completing the look with black gloves, boots and, of course, his jacket. It felt good to be out of uniform. But while his body was relaxed, his mind was not any calmer. He reached for Revolver. As he clasped the hilt, he once again found himself Centering. Squall focused on the cold steel, the etched lion's head, the revolving chamber which gave the blade its name.
This is just another battle.
Squall arrived at the Training Center about five minutes late. He entered the closed corridor and saw Quistis standing beside the gate for the first of three security checkpoints. Given that the Training Center housed a multitude of monsters, it was the only building on Campus with such a layout. It was extremely isolated, and the only entrance, outside of a few fire escapes, was through the steel hallway. "B-16" was painted on the walls outside the first checkpoint; the building number. Buildings whose primary function was student living, such as the dormitories, infirmary, cafeteria, and quad, were labeled "A". Buildings that were considered primarily for education – the training center, motor pool, and library – were labeled "B". The buildings were also numerically labeled. Starting at the main gate, designated "A-10", they went clockwise up to "B-17", the library.
The checkpoint gate let out a few chirps as Quistis flashed her student ID. At this time of night, they were all automated, and they had a reasonable track record for functioning properly. In the thirteen-year history of the school, only a handful of students had suffered injury due to an accidental lockout. But still, there was always that chance. The digital display asked her to confirm that they were both armed. Quistis checked Squall's hip to see that Revolver was on his belt and then tapped "Yes". This was another point of protocol. There was absolutely no reason to enter this place without a weapon. Even students who focused on magic had to wield something, which explained some of the questionable choices of his classmates. Squall could not help but remember that Selphie's choice of weapon was, essentially, little more than a jump rope.
Quistis was wearing her favorite outfit once more, but with some definite alterations. Her zipper on the orange blouse was a bit lower than normal. Her matching skirt sat lower on her waist, revealing a bit more of her midriff. Her hair while still in a ponytail was a bit messier in that uniquely intentional way that girls can manage. That thought cropped up again and Squall had to beat it back down. It was impossible.
"So, are you ready?" Quistis asked, her characteristic confidence somewhat drained. Maybe it was because she was no longer Squall's Instructor, but a connection was now missing between them. They were perfect strangers who had known each other for years.
"Sure," Squall replied simply.
"You know the spot, so you lead the way," Quistis said.
Squall did his duty admirably, hand on hilt through each of the three security checkpoints, and eyes scanning for any sudden movement. Students had, over time, given their own monikers to supplement the sterile numeric identification. Most of the monsters in Zone 1 through Zone 5 were small fry, designed to prepare students who were novices at combat in a safe environment. The entire collective was, thus, called "kindergarten". But with each gate one passed through, the monsters grew nastier. Even Squall hadn't been in the back of this place before. Sections with nicknames such as "the cauldron" and "the arena" contained nightmarish creatures meant to be defeated by an entire squad.
The path was clearly marked, and yet still covered in a soft earthy substance which was mostly artificial. The waterways were genuine though, as were about half of the trees, though some were plastic and used to house a variety of emergency security devices including automated weapons, sleeping gas traps, deployable fences, and security cameras. It tried to simulate the wilds of a tropical environment and did so well enough for a newcomer. But Squall was very familiar with this place. He could practically point to any given tree and tell you exactly what purpose it served. The false night sky – an illusion created with black matte paint and planetarium-style lighting – even had seams showing.
"Is it true they recently captured a new herd of Archaeosaurs?" Squall asked.
Quistis nodded emphatically. "Yep. They're especially nasty and ill-tempered. Still, I am pretty sure I can count on the man who got the highest combat rating in his class. After a Galbadian war machine, a raptor would be no problem for you."
Quistis always liked to offer liberal amounts of praise to her students, and especially to Squall. But there were some finer points to this comment that Squall caught but could not quite categorize. She had referred to him as a "man" instead of "student", "SeeD", "cadet" or even "boy". She had also formalized her part in this little game by indicating that she – a SeeD member who outranked him and carried an impressive combat record – would need to rely on him for help.
"Machines are predictable. Monsters aren't," Squall replied, grasping for something to say and relying on the words of a former combat Instructor.
"Humans aren't either," Quistis added.
And that has never been more apparent than right now, Squall thought as he led her through the faux jungle.
They passed through the first few hostile zones without incident. The beginner zones had most of the monsters crated to avoid ambushes and thus were little more than walks through a very tidy jungle. A few broken boards, scars of some of the day's battles, had not been cleared away yet. They even passed a broken tree with some wires showing, although the power had been cut to avoid an electrical hazard. It was when they crossed into Zone 8 – what the students had dubbed "the bog" – that they began to hear distant scuttling.
There was a chorus of screeching hisses from their right, and Quistis scanned the tree-line hastily. Squall followed her gaze, preparing to draw his blade until Quistis let out an annoyed groan.
"Grats. I hated those things."
Squall could sympathize. The sentient flora was mildly unnerving, with its gaping maw for trapping small prey and its long vine-like tentacles. But their poisonous pollen was more irritating than it was lethal. The thick spores choked the lungs, stilled the tongue, and dazed the mind, making spell-casting nearly impossible. In severe cases, they could sometimes even knock their prey unconscious.
"Come on, they're not attacking. They're just telling us to stay away," Quistis explained.
It was a bit slower to hike through this swampier zone. The journey was full of small puddles, thick tall grass patches, and some unique water plants that supposedly hailed from Centra. There were a few spores in the air which caused them both to cough a bit, but it was not from an attack. Early summer just happened to be the Grats' mating season. The irony was not lost on Squall.
As they arrived in Zone 10, a gentle breeze greeted them, slithering in from the fire door that was kept permanently cracked open.
This was the "secret area".
There had been numerous attempts to ban this practice over the years. At first, the staff was merely concerned about the safety of the students. When they got wind of it being used as a place to both slack on their training and commit their efforts to more questionable practices there was an official notice put out that anybody caught would suffer severe disciplinary action.
But there is a long and proud history of youthful defiance throughout the world, and the eternal rule that authority figures never seem to learn is that forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. Somehow every time the door was shut, the following night it would be open again. If they locked it, the lock would be picked. If they left staff to guard the place, it would remain secure for just as long as the staff member remained on duty. The second they lowered their guard, the "secret area" would be back in action.
In fact, at this point, calling it a "secret" was something of a misnomer; it had become the most popular venue of civil disobedience in the school. Eventually, a sort of equilibrium formed where the staff realized that they could not effectively combat the problem, and thus simply chose to pretend it did not exist, leaving the door undisturbed but with their warning firmly in place. That said, there had not been a visit from a staff member in almost a year.
Until tonight.
They walked through the door out onto the fire escape, which featured a terrace almost as wide as the balcony Squall had been stargazing from earlier. It was built with unpolished stone and with a somewhat rusted metal ladder leading down to the ground. From here, Squall was able to look back upon the Garden's central building. Being able to see the grounds at night was one thing but seeing the main building – that pearlescent shell-shaped structure that served as the centerpiece to this campus – was breathtaking. Lit up with spotlights and the ornamental ring that adorned the Garden like a crown, there was nothing that could match its beauty. With a view like this, Squall could see why this was such a popular spot for young lovers.
There were other couples here, mostly young teenagers. They were too wrapped up in their partners to take particular notice of Squall or Quistis, though there was the occasional turned head, usually pried back into place by an eager hand. The loud humming of the power generators on the rooftop assured a certain level of privacy in conversations. Even so, Quistis led them to a somewhat secluded spot, nearest to the ladder.
She leaned back against the wall and slid her hands behind her back, bouncing slightly on her feet. There was a look in her eyes that Squall was unable to place. The closest approximation he got was a question that occupied his mind as well: "so, what now?"
For the third time that night, the impatient thought returned, a bit more pronounced now. Though it seemed a bit less foolish than before. Instructor Quistis Trepe, Squall's teacher, had taken him to this clandestine, if not private, place well known as a notorious make-out point. Alone. In the middle of the night.
She led him to a secluded spot along the wall. The implications were not completely lost on him, but they did not belong. He began to argue with himself, the rational side of him arguing with a less-developed part of him, which just happened to speak through Ifrit's voice.
She's your teacher.
"She was your teacher."
She's older than me.
"By a year."
This isn't what she wants.
"How do you know?"
Why would she want to be with me?
"Why wouldn't she?"
What if I don't want to be with her?
"Why wouldn't you?"
She's not my type.
"She's cute."
She's annoying.
"She's smart."
She's preachy.
"She's interested in you."
As a friend.
"So, you're friends now?"
I don't know.
"You could ask her."
There's no point.
"Why?"
Because.
Squall had been silent for a few minutes. This was his usual demeanor, but in such close proximity, it felt especially pointed. Quistis grew bored and turned to face the Garden. She looked instinctively at her wrist, but then remembered she did not wear a watch with this outfit; an old habit of using these clothes as an escape from her punctual, clock-driven life. A life that was now over.
"What time is it?" She asked.
Squall looked over to his watch, seemingly glad for an opportunity to have something else to occupy his mind.
"A little past midnight," Squall replied.
Quistis leaned her head down on her arms. She looked back at Squall, gave up her devious plot as a bad job, and sighed.
"Oh well."
Silence resumed. About a minute ticked by before Quistis decided to take matters into her own hands.
She stood up tall and loudly declared. "As of this moment, I, Quistis Trepe, am no longer an Instructor."
"Oh?" Squall mumbled.
"Is that all you have to say?" Quistis asked, that bitter note returning once more, though not masked by any sweetness this time.
Squall shook his head. "If that's how it was decided, you have to abide by it."
Quistis folded her arms in front of her and leaned back against the wall. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Yeah. I'm a regular SeeD now, just like you. Who knows? Maybe we'll go on an assignment together sometime," she shrugged.
This was stupid. What is wrong with you, Quistis?
She was seeking affection from some boy who, for all she knew, had despised every moment they shared.
Why do you do this to yourself?
She felt the pangs of self-pity, and an uncomfortable build-up in her chest.
"They said I lacked leadership qualities," Quistis said. She let out a small, dark chuckle and stamped her foot in frustration. "In layman's terms, they as much as said that I had failed as an Instructor."
What am I doing? Why are you saying this?
"I was made a SeeD at age fifteen. I got my Instructor's license at seventeen. It's been barely over a year since I got it," Quistis was shaking slightly, quivering with a thousand conflicting emotions.
Frustration won out. "Are you even listening?!"
Squall rubbed his head. He had been listening. But he had no idea what was expected of him. There was nothing he could do about it. He was unsure why she had brought him here. He realized it was stupid of him to think something as childish as he had a moment ago when in reality all she wanted was somebody to complain to.
"Are you just about done?" Squall asked. "I don't want to talk about it. What am I supposed to do to make it better?"
Quistis' arms dropped, and she leaned in closer to Squall, touching his arm. "I'm not asking you to say anything. I just... I want somebody to talk to."
The panic from earlier had returned. Even though the students around them were clearly not interested in these two anymore, he felt like he was in the middle of a crowd. He suspected that if the two of them had truly been alone, the swell of the panic would only have intensified. Squall shook her arm off, a bit more forcefully than he meant to. He turned away from her as her eyes had begun to glisten, and it was a sight that Squall could not abide.
"Then talk to a wall."
"Don't you ever want to open up, Squall? Don't you ever feel the need to share your feelings with somebody else?" Quistis insisted.
Squall's head bowed slightly. He felt mildly ashamed. But then, she had started this. She put him on the spot. She took him here of all places. Either she wanted more than Squall could even contemplate giving her, or she did not know what she wanted. If it was the latter, how was Squall supposed to help her? He could not even figure himself out, let alone somebody else.
"Everybody has to take care of themselves. I don't want to carry somebody else's burden. And I don't want to be somebody else's burden either." He moved towards the exit. "Don't take too much time. I want to escort you out as soon as possible."
Quistis watched him leave and turned her head back towards the majestic view. A spotlight shone high into the heavens, created by the combination of lights at the top of the halo. The pillar was a symbol, in honor of the new graduates, and a convenient landmark for parents making their way to the campus. Her gaze followed its path up to the brilliant full moon, closer than it had been in her entire life. Eighteen years, and this is what it had led to. A tear fell to her gloved hand.
"No leadership qualities... I guess they were right."