In Who's Name? Chapter 18: Fisherman's Wharf, a final fantasy viii fanfic

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII belongs to Squaresoft.

Title: In Who's Name?

Part 18: Fisherman's Wharf

Fisherman's Horizon was just as Quistis remembered. She got off the boat quietly and looked around. She had been here just twice before, and the last time had been about a year ago, on a brief stop to visit the Master Fisherman and to thank him for his help. She and the others had met with the mayor, but the Master Fisherman was nowhere to be seen, and he wasn't down at the dock either, although they had heard that he had returned to FH for a little while. Quistis smiled a little to herself as she strolled down the streets of Fisherman's Horizon. She glanced around, looking for the Fisherman's Wharf. Ages ago, when she had just become a SeeD, she had gone to Fisherman's Wharf for a little celebration dinner with some members of her batch. They were much older than she was, and she was just the kid SeeD, but most of them were very good to her, and being back there brought back faint memories of a time when she was still childishly naïve.

Fisherman's Wharf was well-known for its clam chowder. Personally, Quistis found it a bit strong—too fishy. Still, she wasn't there to eat the clam chowder. She stood across the street, gazing thoughtfully at the restaurant. It looked decently respectable. Quistis frowned a little to herself, unsure of what she was looking for. She glanced around the street and her eyes widened. About three doors away from Fisherman's Wharf was a small building about three stories high. On the third floor, at the corner of one of the dark glass windows, were small letters—Wetternfield Construction Co. Pte. Ltd (FH). Well! Now Quistis was certain that something was up. She narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment. Better beard the lion in his den and see what he comes up with. FH was a very peaceful place and if she needed help, she could always scream.

Quistis entered the Fisherman's Wharf. The shock she received nearly threw her off-balance for a moment. The strange part was that the place looked exactly the same as she had remembered it, but there was something that wasn't quite right about it, and whatever it was, it had given her a severe shock. She looked around, trying to gauge what it was that had stunned her.

Fisherman's Wharf was a very small restaurant. It had about twenty tables, and each table looked exactly the same—four well-carved wooden chairs, neat placemats atop each table, and a single, blue glass vase with a single stalk of lilies serving as a centrepiece for each table. The walls were practically papered with pictures of the Master Fisherman fishing, the mayor fishing, the grocer down the street fishing, the tailor up the street fishing…everyone in FH fished in their spare time. The floor was clean and polished wood, and bare—that made sense, since fish on carpets or rugs is not easy to get rid of!

"Good morning, miss. Table for one?"

Quistis glanced at the waitress. She was in her thirties, an unusual-looking woman with very dark eyes, very pale skin and very red hair. She would have been very pretty—Quistis supposed that she was considered very pretty—but her mouth was hard and had an unpleasant look about it. She did sound polite enough, though.

"Yes, thank you," Quistis told her.

The woman, who did not wear a name tag, led her to a table right inside, at the far end, but Quistis stopped her.

"I would like a table there, please," she said calmly, pointing to another table.

The table the waitress had chosen was just too far inside and too dark. Quistis preferred one where she could see the entrance—and where people walking by could see her. An additional bonus was that she was nearer the other diners in the restaurant.

"But this one is much better," protested the waitress, insistently taking Quistis by the arm. "This is our best table."

Quistis firmly removed her arm from the waitress. "Yes, but I like that table better." So saying, she made her way to the table she liked.

Quistis looked at the menu, her face placid, but her brain was whizzing quickly. She had located the strange thing about the place. The picture of the Master Fisherman. Master Fisherman would never have wanted his picture up on the wall like that. He was a quiet, reticent sort of person who disliked publicity of any sort. Quistis frowned. It was a very small picture, and would have been lost amongst the other pictures, but for the fact that Quistis herself knew who the Master Fisherman was, and her eyes had been drawn to the picture immediately. Did it mean something?

"Miss, would you like me to take your order now?"

Quistis glanced up at the waitress and thought quickly. "Oh, yes, thank you. I'll have the clam chowder and, uh, just iced water, thank you."

"Will that be all?"

"Yes." Quistis sat back in her chair.

She spent the ten minutes before her food arrived quietly observing the people in the restaurant. There were three service people altogether, two waiters and a waitress. The two waiters looked alike; they were probably brothers. Both were tall, well-built men who looked more like stiff butlers than mere waiters. One of them was very chummy with the waitress—they were probably a couple, Quistis thought. There were about six others in the restaurant—four people at one table and two people at another. Quistis had just enough time to note the way they looked like and to sum up private judgments on their possible characters and professions before the chowder arrived.

She tried it. It wasn't as fishy as she had feared and it did taste quite nice, although not the way she remembered it. After about three mouthfuls, she felt very strange. Her head appeared to be very heavy and the room…was spinning around…

Quistis Trepe's eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped over the table in a dead faint.