Rating: R
Disclaimer: Squaresoft…you just gotta love them.
A/N: I knew I shouldn't have said anything in the last chapter about updating at least once every two weeks. Sorry about the delay, but fanfiction.net was being so dangerously unstable. Hope the slightly increased chapter length kind of makes up for it.
Lest We Forget
Chapter 6: Impressions
"The impressions left behind are usually the ones unintended."
The two cloaked figures hurried down the street, narrowly avoiding being run over, but unable to evade the water splashed by passing cars. What did it matter, they were already soaked ten minutes ago when it had first started pouring. Now, half-slipping on the wet pavement, they only frantically sought to escape the deluge. Drawn like moths to a flame, their minds were set on finding shelter, and a rather inconspicuous bar further up the road appeared to offer that.
The bar had begun its existence as a sleazy nightclub, one with a superficial veneer of sophistication, of the type numerous and popular in Deling City. Its owners though had later rather presumptuously equated tacky plastic décor with modern minimalist elegance, although it's still unsure how. Current patrons have often generously considered it a deluded effort to reduce costs, but what's cheap isn't always best. New investors had quickly and intelligently transformed it into a seedy bar, of the type numerous and popular in Deling City. Aptly renaming it 'Oblivion', customers were expected to drink themselves under the table. They weren't disappointed.
Tuesdays were always slow, and the background conversation momentarily ebbed, as the door to 'Oblivion' swung open. Bleary-eyed patrons briefly glanced up at the new arrivals, before losing interest and turning back to stare mournfully into their rapidly emptying glasses.
"Hey! Take off your coats. You're leaving water marks all over my carpet," the barman yelled at the newcomers over the returning noise. Stereotypically tall and staid, he was as much a fixture of any bar as the bar stools and probably possessed as much intelligence.
Quistis glanced worriedly at Seifer from under her thick cloak. If they revealed themselves, there was always the danger of someone recognising them. Balamb Garden might have scouts posted even here in enemy territory…especially here in enemy territory. And who knew how the Galbadians would react to Seifer, their former commander. Seifer seemed to be waiting for her to decide. They were already making a scene, just standing here like this. People would think they had something to hide. Besides, what place would be better to get information than in a bar? The sight of the heavy rain pounding outside the glass window quickly made her mind up for her. They would just have to hope that the bar patrons were too drunk to notice anything amiss.
"Sorry," Quistis apologised loudly to the barman. Unwilling to draw any more attention to themselves, she and Seifer reluctantly removed their cloaks. This though, quickly initiated another round of stares, longer this time, most of which were aimed lustfully at Quistis.
Someone wolf-whistled from the corner.
So much for keeping a low profile. Quistis governed her rising discomfort and scanned the crowd made up of mostly businessmen, depressed husbands, and disillusioned old men, the typical bar throng. Her gaze hovered on a group of off-duty Galbadian soldiers who sat at the bar, but their expressions only implied admiration, not recognition.
Seifer moved to put his arm around her waist possessively and glared fiercely at everyone. The openly admiring gazes swiftly vanished. Quistis checked the urge to shrug off his arm.
"If you do anything funny, I swear I'll break your arm," she whispered to Seifer, all the while smiling icily at the others in the bar.
"Me…funny? Never," he replied innocently, keeping the smirk from his face, as his offending arm drifted lower. "Anyway, you don't seem to be amused."
"Remove your arm, or I'll remove it for you," Quistis hissed, stiffening.
"I'm just adding some verisimilitude. We'll blend in better. Has anyone told you that you look so cute when you're mad?" Seifer hazarded, taunting her further. He wanted to see how much more he could push her.
"Seifer…move it or lose it," she growled softly at him, before composing herself and adding in a louder sickeningly sweet voice for the benefit of any unwanted listeners, "Dear, we're making a scene. As much as I love you, I don't want to stand like this all day." When he made no effort to move, she ducked her head closer to his and whispered threateningly in his ear, "There are so many other things you could lose."
"Oh, but I'm so very attached to everything," he retorted sarcastically, before pulling her into a dark, empty seating booth and reluctantly releasing her. "Is that all the thanks I get for saving you from those perverted old men?"
If looks could kill...
"Ladies night. Drinks are on the house for women," interrupted the barman.
"How convenient. Now you'll be able to drink all you like," Quistis exclaimed brightly to Seifer, relishing every moment of her revenge, before calmly ordering a cocktail.
Seifer's expression was priceless, his face rapidly contorting into a scowl. Before he could retaliate though, the barman interjected rather hesitantly, all the while looking at him, "You're not one of those people who have issues and need to tell their life's story, are you? 'Cause Phyros over there's booked my time, and when I last ignored him, he started a bar brawl."
"Him? Oh no…erm…what would give you that idea?" Quistis answered, remarkably managing to keep a straight face until after the barman turned away. Then, she covered her mouth with both hands and quivered with silent, self-contained laughter…all at Seifer's expense of course. He didn't appear too happy.
"So you guys just arrived in Deling City?" a thick voice piped up.
Quistis could vaguely make out something resembling a man carrying a box of brochures in the dim light. She thought it best not to commit to anything and answered, "We're just passing through."
"Yeah, aren't we all," was the cynical reply. "Hey, you two look familiar. Have we met?"
Ordinarily, Quistis would have brushed aside the question as just another pick-up line, but not here and definitely not now. Had news from Balamb Garden already reached Galbadia? She could feel the wispy talons of fear enclose her mind in their icy grip. She fought her rising panic and tried to answer calmly, "Perhaps you've seen other people who look like us."
There was silence. Quistis held her breath. Then the voice resumed more enthusiastically, "You're probably right, but hey I'm sure you'd like to see the sights of Deling City. Tourists love it. There's the-"
"-We've seen them all." Seifer interrupted quickly, relief evident on his face. They were lucky that the bar was pretty dark and the patrons all drunk.
"Do you still want to buy a map?" He sure didn't want to give up.
"No," Seifer replied firmly, tinges of annoyance creeping into his voice.
"Yes, we do," Quistis countered, avoiding his glare. "Hyne, you would think this whole 'not needing a map' is a male thing. What is it with men?"
Seifer looked as if to object.
"Besides, the residents might not be all that's changed." Quistis continued. "And we've forgotten so much already." That will shut him up.
The two of them sat quietly, no longer disturbed by incessant advertisements from amateur Deling City tour promoters. Now, they could hear the more boisterous conversations as alcohol loosened the tongues of those around them. None appeared particularly interesting though.
"Rumour has it that something big 's happened in Balamb Garden?"
Quistis sat up, staring at Seifer's shocked expression, one she knew mirrored her own. The line had originated from the group of half-drunk off-duty Galbadian soldiers stationed at the bar.
"Yeah? Like what…they ran out of hotdogs?"
Quistis just managed to stop herself from snorting derisively. She was beginning to feel disheartened that the conversation would not be as enlightening as she originally thought.
"Nah. Probably not that major." Rowdy laughter followed.
"Wouldn't put it pass them. I heard that they eat truckloads of the stuff. I knew it. SeeDs run on hotdogs. We cut away their supply, and we'll be able to beat them. Just you wait Garden. You ain't so tough without your hotdogs and -"
"Private."
"Yes, sarge?"
"You're rambling. Shut up."
"Yes sir. Sorry sir."
"So…apparently, SeeD's covering something up."
Quistis' eyes widened.
"But they're always undercover." The ensuing silence implied a glare, the unique type aimed at dull-witted cronies and brainless subordinates, the type usually followed with a rolling of the eyes.
"As I was saying, they think some high-ranking SeeD's turned psychotic and killed someone, maybe even an innocent civilian. Balamb Garden's reputation will be ruined unless they clean this mess up. Anyway, we've got a betting pool going for the identities of those involved."
If it were at all possible for Quistis' heart to beat any faster, it would have done so now.
"Whoever it is, I support them. An enemy of an enemy is a friend."
"Yes, I'm sure the homicidal SeeD and you would get on so well together. What a perfect couple."
"It's a she?"
"Dunno, but it wouldn't matter to you right? Hah! You're always so wrapped up in those sado-masochistic games you enjoy."
"Ouch."
"Sado-masochistic games are meant to hurt, idiot."
Mortified, Quistis felt she had overheard enough of their conversation. She glanced questioningly at Seifer, and was met with a customary smirk. He seemed to have found the last few comments particularly amusing. She kicked him in the shin, hard. The grimace that flashed across his face was enough of a reward.
Seifer glanced around the bar, trying his best to avoid her furious glare. No one seemed to be paying them much attention. His eyes skimmed over the blurred faces of strangers, and locked, quite suddenly, with the ice blue ones of a non-descript, middle-aged man sitting next to the door. He was staring right at them. Seifer almost jerked in surprise. The man lifted his wine glass as if in salute, his thin lips curled in a sardonic smile. Seifer tore his gaze away and hastily turned to face Quistis, ignoring her scowl.
"We've picked up an audience. Check the man next to the door," Seifer informed her, his serious tone overcoming any remaining anger.
Quistis deliberately dropped a serviette and bent down to pick it up, surreptitiously glancing at the door. No one was seated next to it. She told Seifer.
He furtively looked over…and blinked. Even the wine glass had disappeared.
"He must have left," Seifer said defensively, willing Quistis to believe him. "I know what I saw."
She didn't seem inclined to do so. "Don't you think we would have heard the door open?"
"Look, if you're still mad about what I did just now, I didn't mean it. Hell, this is important," Seifer retorted, half-standing. His voice had taken on an edge. "Do you really want to risk getting caught here?"
"Yes, just like how we rushed out of the cave. Now, wasn't that a lie?" Quistis snapped, annoyed. That incident had nearly gotten them killed, and here he was talking about risks.
He was surprised at her vehemence. Why wouldn't she just believe him?
Quistis had thought about a lot of things in the time after their frantic escape from Balamb. She voiced the other doubt that had been nagging at her since. "Speaking of great escapes, I still don't know how you made it out of Garden so easily. Last I saw, Irvine had his sights firmly planted on your head."
Just before the walls slammed down, the briefest expression of pain that flickered across Seifer's face almost made Quistis regret her harsh words.
"He missed," Seifer said quietly, sitting back down again.
"Irvine never misses."
"There's a first time for everything." His eyes searched her face earnestly. "Is that it, after all this you still don't trust me?"
Unexpectedly, Quistis laughed. It was a cold, cynical laugh - one totally out of sync with her normal behaviour. He had never heard it from her before. It chilled Seifer to the bone. Things were taking their toll on her. "How can I trust anyone? I wake up. You're the first one I see. You say you've got amnesia. I'm injured with no clue of what happened to me. My friends are after me and I've been branded a traitor who's tried to murder someone. It's like being stuck in a nightmare. Half the time, I keep pinching myself, hoping someone will wake me up," Quistis spat bitterly, crossing her arms. "There's no such thing as trust in this world. I may be other things, but I'm not naïve. Maybe you're the one who needs to wake up, Seifer."
"We're in the same position. Why don't you believe me? Cause I was a traitor before all this? Since we fought on opposite sides of a war?" Seifer questioned relentlessly, leaning threateningly closer towards her.
"It's not something you would forget."
"Neither is murder."
He was encouraged by the ensuing silence. "You would pick the past over the present? I don't remember what I've supposedly done either, yet you won't allow me the same benefit of the doubt. Hell Quistis, ever considered that perhaps you really are guilty? I wasn't given that choice."
"But people saw you…they were hurt by you," Quistis argued, trying to keep the desperation from her voice. I was hurt by you.
"I only have your word for it. Where are these people? Definitely not here," Seifer retorted, before leaning back on his seat. He took a deep breath when Quistis didn't reply. "Looks like a stalemate. I guess we'll just have to trust each other then. Only way we can survive."
An uneasy silence followed, until Quistis quietly ventured, "In the beginning you didn't care. I never said I would trust you, so why is it suddenly so important to you?"
Again, there was nothing but awkward silence. After a while, Seifer smirked and wisecracked, "So I can have something that idiot Squally boy doesn't. Hyne, you would think he just hit puberty."
Surprisingly, Quistis had to fight back a smile, but Seifer had not finished.
"Although…his name was the first one out of your mouth when you woke up. Some lover boy Quistis…I would think you had better taste than that. Choosing guys who want to kill you is a record low," he taunted, shaking his head all the while in mock-disapproval at her.
"He's not mine," Quistis replied evenly, glad that the conversation had lightened up and returned to slightly more neutral ground. Strange to see how things had changed. Before all this, she would have considered this topic off limits. Now she could even talk about Squall - to Seifer - without feeling some form of regret or bitterness. She reminded herself she needed her head checked. Here they were on the run, deep in enemy territory, joking about. "But who do you suppose is good enough for me? Someone like…?"
"…You?" "Me?" They both said at the same time and grinned. "In your dreams, Seifer."
"Hey you! You're a wuss."
Seifer and Quistis whirled around to face the source of the insult.
It came from a man standing next to their table. He was swaying rather unsteadily.
"What the hell?" Seifer had enough of being interrupted for one night. He stood up.
"Ignore him. He's drunk," Quistis cautioned. She could smell the alcohol on the man's breath. Hell, the whole place reeked of cigarettes and alcohol.
"Yeah, ya heard me. You're a coward and a wuss. Here's 'r pressie from mommy." The man punched Seifer. Seifer reeled from the blow, stumbling backwards a few steps, shocked. He then slammed into the man with a bellow, replying with a quick uppercut that snapped his head back. Following with a neat roundhouse, the man was left on the floor. Others joined the brawl though, and Seifer soon found himself struck at from all directions. It was rapidly becoming a bloody free-for-all, a mess of wildly swinging arms, shouting voices, and bruised, sweating bodies.
"Argh, I only left Phyros for 5 seconds," the barman groaned to no one in particular, and continued to look on helplessly at the ongoing melee.
Quistis shook her head and sighed. Climbing onto the table, she took out her whip and cracked it so that its tip snapped inches above the mob.
Everyone turned to stare at her for the third time that night. Hands on her hips, with the whip handle clutched tightly in her right hand, she cut an imposing figure.
"Now would be a good time for us to leave," she told Seifer, stepping down from the table, and dragging him out of the bar by one arm. He didn't offer any resistance. The door swung shut behind them, leaving a startled crowd and smashed up furniture.
"What a woman," the Galbadian sergeant's eyes remained on the closed bar door.
The private next to him sighed deeply, staring at the spot where Quistis had stood earlier. "Yeah. And what a whip."
A/N: Weird mood, late night, no sugar/caffeine. What's the result? A strange chapter. I quite unashamedly admit that there were probably a few clichés used here too. I seriously hope it wasn't too bad.
