In Who's Name? Chapter 1: Awaken, o amnesiac one, a final fantasy viii fanfic

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII.

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 1: Awaken, O amnesiac one

He opened his eyes and then shut them almost immediately, the bright lights overhead were too much for them. Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes the merest of slits and took in what he could see. Above him were bright hospital lights and around him were blank white beds with a small, utilitarian chest of drawers by each. The furniture was distinctively Spartan and uncomfortable. He was in a hospital, obviously, or at least a ward of some kind. But why was he there? And where in the world was this place?

Slowly, he raised himself up on his elbows. He looked curiously down at himself. He ached all over, as if he'd been in a tremendous fight, and he could see bruises and healing scrapes all over his arms. And his bare torso had about a mile of bandage wrapped around it. He felt his head. It was likewise accompanied by bandages. His nose wrinkled at the heavy medicinal smell. Ugh. He examined his arms. He had nice arms—golden-brown, smoothly muscular and obviously well-trained. Hmm, he thought, feeling gratified. He poked a finger at a muscle. Rock-hard. Hmm. The self-satisfied feeling increased. He carefully slid a hand under the sheet covering him—ah. Rock-hard abs too. Now all he had to do was to figure out who he was—

His mouth dropped open in shock as the full realization dawned on him. He had no idea who he was! Heck, he didn't even know how old he was. He glanced around frantically for a mirror, but of course, in a Hyne-forsaken hospital, they wouldn't even have a Hyne-cursed mirror…not that he knew who Hyne was, or why he was swearing with that word. Panicking, he put a hand up to his face and passed a hand over his features. He seemed to have a mouth that was working—lips, teeth and all. His nose appeared to be healthy as well—ouch, was that a bruise on his cheek or what? And did that feel like a single line between his eyebrows? It was too long and oddly placed to be a wrinkle—come to think of it, his face was pretty smooth apart from the bruises, so he had to be quite young—so the line had to be a scar. Or else he had had plastic surgery to remove his wrinkles.

"Ah, you're awake, Seifer. Good! How are you feeling?"

A woman in a white lab coat had just entered. She moved to his side and felt his forehead. "Your fever's down. You're still running a light temperature, but it should be gone soon. Now, you haven't answered my question. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. A little strange." He liked the sound of his voice. It was deep, rich and manly. Good. So long as he didn't sound high-pitched and squeaky, like a puberty boy—ugh. "By the way, what did you call me?"

The doctor frowned. "Call you? Why, by your name, of course—" She stopped and looked hard at him. "What's my name?"

"Uh—" he thought hard. "Er—" he shrugged. "I don't know." It was his turn to frown. "Do I know you?"

"Dr. Kadowaki!" A pretty, light girlish voice called from outside, accompanied by light, running footsteps and the brisk, businesslike click of boot heels striking the floor.

The door was pushed open and an extremely pretty girl came in. She wore a light blue dress and her long, dark brown hair spilled to her waist, framing a very sweet face with delicate features and enormous dark brown eyes with long lashes. She came to a stop when she saw him and her eyes grew huge in her face, her hand flying to her mouth. She was incredibly pretty, he thought. Wow. Maybe he'd stay here a little longer…

Then he saw her.

She entered just behind the first girl. She was much taller and the sharp sounds of her boot heels striking the floor echoed with her steps. The first thing he noticed was that she wore glasses and some sort of military uniform, and that her face was severe as a storm in winter. He didn't think much of that. Then she came within a few feet of him and looked him full in the face. He swallowed, his heart rate increasing erratically.

She had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, large but not over-large, and they were the clearest, most glorious blue he'd ever seen. It was a pity they were hidden behind those metal rims. The rest of her was equally impressive. A perfectly-shaped oval face, a classic nose, and full crimson lips; a faultless complexion of peaches and cream; fine brows arching delicately above those eyes; and she was definitely curvy—very curvy. The skirt clung to her hips and bore testimony to the length of her legs, which were clad in no-nonsense boots. Gorgeous. Goddess. It was too bad she didn't appear to be a nurse, or he'd have decided to play sick a little longer.

She was intelligent. She took one look at the little scene in front of her, settled her glasses firmly on her nose, and went straight to the point. "What's wrong?" Her voice was a little husky, lovely on the ear, and her accents were clipped and businesslike. She put a hand on her hip, accentuating the curve of her figure. Wait—she was resting her hand on—a *whip*?! Whoa. Gorgeous, intelligent—and lethal to boot.

The doctor-woman with the tongue-tripping name said one word. "Amnesia."

The dark-haired girl's mouth worked soundlessly. The other girl, golden-haired, frowned. "Temporary or permanent?"

The doctor shook her head. "It's still too early to tell. But—"

"Excuse me? Would you stop talking as if I weren't here?" he interrupted with a growl, suddenly angry. "Just tell me who I am, where I'm from and I'll get out of here."

The blond beauty with the glasses gave him a Look. "I'd say temporary memory loss." She stepped closer to him, never breaking eye contact. He stiffened, but did not back away. Instead, he leaned forward, smirking slightly. He never turned down a challenge. Besides…she smelt good. Was she wearing perfume or did she always smell like that?

Now she leaned back as she studied him, her eyes narrowed, and he smirked triumphantly as he realized that he was getting on her nerves. Heh, it felt good to annoy someone. He wondered vaguely if that was part of his character, or if it was just a warped part of him surfacing due to amnesia.

A fine brow arched. "I suppose we'd better tell you your name. You're…" The blonde goddess paused for a moment. "… Squall Leonhart."

(Behind her, the dark-haired girl's eyes widened, then crinkled as she covered her mouth with both hands and quivered with silent laughter).

Squall…Leonhart. Squall Leonhart? The name was familiar. He frowned, turning it over in his mind. Squall. Humph.

"Tell me how soon I can change my name," he snorted. "Squall indeed. What a weird name. My parents must've been uninspired that day I was born."

The blonde beauty regarded him quizzically. "You do have amnesia after all."

He rolled his eyes. "You're bright," he sneered, feeling a little annoyed at that cool, know-it-all attitude of hers. "Who the hell are you anyway?"

"I'm Quistis Trepe," she said simply.

"Quistis Trepe," he said thoughtfully, turning the name over in his mind, his voice unconsciously drawing out the name in a long, almost tender way.

The blonde beauty gave him a long, peculiar look. "This is Rinoa Heartlilly. And this is Dr. Kadowaki."

He looked hard at each of them in turn. The doctor returned his gaze gravely; Rinoa Heartlilly, the dark-haired girl, smiled gently and sympathetically at him, but there was a little fear and something like pity in her eyes; Quistis Trepe watched his every movement closely, warily—a woman fully alert and on guard. Who was she protecting? he wondered.

"Oh, by the way, your name isn't Squall Leonhart," she said. A tiny spark of amusement lit those beautiful blue eyes. "Your name is Seifer Almasy."

Well, it was a darn sight better than being named Squall Leonhart.