In Who's Name? Chapter 8: Hyperion, a final fantasy viii fanfic

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

Thanks to all my reviewers again, especially those who reviewed several chapters, and by their reviews, have kept me going. =) You know who you are.

This story should take a more dramatic turn within the next few chapters, as well as moving into heavy-duty Seiftis territory, so I will take a little longer to post new chapters. By the way, italics usually represent flashbacks to the past. I should've explained that earlier, but thought it a common device and so left it out. I guess it confused some readers. =p

Happy reading!

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 8: Hyperion

It was a bee-you-ti-ful morning. Seifer found himself whistling as he set about showering, shaving and giving his teeth the morning rubdown. The morning ablutions completed, he actually hummed as he picked out his outfit for the day, which coincidentally looked like the one he had worn the day before. His wardrobe consisted of largely of black muscle shirts, sleeveless black vests and black trousers, with an occasional slash of red manifesting itself as a logo or minute motif. [Gold: I'm sorry, but his underwear details are private. Only Seifer and Quistis ought to know anything about them. The rest of us must just let our imagination do the work. :)] Some of them had been brought over by Raijin and Fujin when they visited, and the others had been acquired in a shopping trip he had undertaken the day before in the company of that cowboy guy, Irvine, and his girlfriend, Selphie, who had been aggravatingly and persistently cheerful and bubbly throughout.

He winced a little as he dressed. His healing rib gave him a twinge now and then, as if to remind him that its condition was still somewhat nebulous. But something was still missing. Slowly, Seifer reached for the white trenchcoat, marked with red crosses, which lay over the back of a chair. Fujin and Raijin had brought it. His fingers closed tightly on it, but he did not put it on. He was trying to remember—something about this trenchcoat stirred him inside, and it woke brief flashes of memories, but they eluded his mental grasp as he tried to catch hold of them before they escaped him altogether. With a quick oath of exasperation, he slung on the trenchcoat, fingers automatically arranging the fit of the collar to his liking, and strode to the door.

When it opened, he found Quistis Trepe standing on his doorstep. Now, Seifer Almasy prided himself on being able to rise to any occasion, and this was no exception. One corner of his mouth turned up in a slow, sexy half-smile.

And Quistis' stomach growled in audible reply.

The snicker that broke from Seifer earned him a glare from a justifiably annoyed, if slightly sheepish Quistis.

"Stop laughing."

Seifer snickered more loudly, and Quistis, with an exasperated click of her tongue, put her hand up to his mouth to silence him. She had important business and it didn't involve drawing everyone's attention. —But she hadn't counted on the immediate explosion between them. He stopped laughing the second her fingers touched his lips and their eyes locked—cool blue met deep green—and heat flared in an instant. Seifer's mouth was slightly open, and very hot under her fingertips, and when he closed his mouth, his lips brushed tenderly against her fingers. In response, Quistis' face flamed as she snatched her hand away.

Swallowing her embarrassment, she mumbled, gesturing with the long bundle she held: "Uh, I—we need to go back in."

He complied, stepping aside to let her in first.

Inside, she stood in the middle of the room, her eyes fixed on the bundle. She lifted her eyes to his face, colour sweeping her cheeks again, but she bravely held out the bundle.

"This is yours."

Seifer had never had any doubt that he was strongly attracted to her, but now, new knowledge came to him. The way she had blushed and reacted a moment ago told him that she was at least as attracted to him as he was to her. As he idly pushed aside the cloth that wrapped the long bundle, he stole a quick glance at her, and found her looking at him, with an expression in her eyes that could only be described as half-shy, half-unwilling. For some reason, it made him stop what he was doing and smile at her.

Her reaction was immediate. She went red again and pretended to be very interested in the rug on the floor. He might have gone on to test her a little further, but then something else caught his attention.

Cold metal under his fingertips.

The name flew into his mind, warming him.

Hyperion.

It was as if a switch had been turned on.

"Puberty Boy."

Clink of metal against metal.

Scars on their foreheads.

"Instructor…"

Quistis' breath caught in her throat as he turned to face her.

"Instructor."

He sounded—like the old Seifer Almasy. Blood drained from Quistis' face, and Seifer's face flashed alarm as he darted forward, thinking that she was going to faint.

"Quistis?"

She held up a hand and he took it in his, but her attention wasn't on his touch. Her face remained white as she stared at him. "Seifer, do you remember?"

There was a silence as each tried to read the truth in the other's face.

"I remembered something when I touched Hyperion, but it's gone now," he said carefully.

He did sound disappointed, she thought, but she could not trust him, not just yet. "You know it's Hyperion?"

His smile was faintly wistful. "It's a part of me. That much I know."

"You…don't remember anything else?" Her voice was low, her eyes searching his face with something akin to fear in them.

"No." He gently dropped her hand and watched as her shoulders relaxed.

"Oh. I…I'm sorry."

He could see that she was sincerely sorry for him, but he could also sense her relief. He shrugged. "Shall we go for breakfast?"

She rewarded him with a small smile and turned to lead the way.

But behind her, a quick flash of pain crossed his face. Had she hated the old him so much as to fear the return of his memory? Whatever it was, he had to find out quickly. That was why he had lied to her. He had remembered a little. It was not much, but it was a start to finding out who he really was.