Chapter 3





"Good morning, Irvine."

Squall Leonheart sat in his makeshift office on Balamb's third floor. The bridge, where Nida had once controlled the flying fortress, had been roped off casually. Squall had brought in a plain desk, a comfortable chair, and a couple of simple file cabinets. The office suited him. His desk was currently covered with papers, flyers, and folders, while Cid's desk was gathering dust. There was no better sign as to who was in charge of Balamb Garden's future - at least in the short term.

Irvine sat across from Squall's desk, reclining in the other comfortable chair Squall had recruited from the first floor. He had awoken to find his message service light blinking; amused, he had punched the button, expecting Seff or Zell. Instead, Squall's solemn voice had asked him to head to the bridge as soon as he was up for the day.

"So like, what kind of job do you have for me?" Irvine leaned forward. "You said there was a mission."

"Yes and no." Squall rested his elbows precariously on a tall stack of paper. "We have ...I have a request to make... you're still a SeeD, you know, and..."

"Don't be nervous and don't be formal," Irvine said with a grin. "It's me. What's up?"

Squall paused, still unfamiliar with Irvine's open, friendly nature; then a small smile appeared and he relaxed. "Right ...well, Cid hasn't told me much about it," he said in a much more natural tone. "But from what I understand, there's a job in the offering that suits you perfectly."

"Indeed." Irvine narrowed his eyes. "Tell me more."

Squall dug through the pile on his desk - the topmost pile - and pulled out a black folder. He opened it up and scanned his eyes over the piece of paper inside. "In about three weeks we'll be sending out a mission," he began. "It's a weapons lockdown on some smugglers heading into Galbadia. From what Intelligence has told us, there's going to be some sort of quasi-military galleria held ...well, never mind. The point is, the most efficient way to eliminate all of this trouble involves some high-quality gunwork."

"Sounds like you're calling for a sniper." Irvine shifted in his chair.

Squall gave his small half-smile again. "Yes and no. It'll involve multiple snipers from multiple positions. And the goal is to eliminate all potential offense - without taking a life. We'll be sending in ground troops to take prisoners because we need information - so we'll need skilled people who can literally shoot a weapon out of someone's hands."

"Alright." Irvine shrugged. "But there's only one of me."

"We're not sending you," Squall said slowly. "At least, not yet. What we need you to do is train the snipers. We'd like to use it as a field exam, and there are a few students here who have expressed interest in ...what?"

Irvine threw up his hands. "Woah, man. So like, you're saying you want me to train cadets to be accurate enough to shoot down a man's weapon without killing him - in three weeks?"

Squall met Irvine's gaze with determination. "Can you do it?"

"Hmmm." Thoughts were running through the cowboy's mind. "Possibly."

"You're the only one who can," Squall said. "And if you fail, the mission fails. We'll need more than one good gunman, so even if we have to send you in, you'll have to have backup. You have to be good, Irvine."

A smirk spread across his lips. "I am good," he replied softly. Then, narrowing his eyes in thought: "What's so complex about the mission?"

Squall bit his lip. "I actually can't tell you yet." He shrugged. "Not like I know much more than you. It's top-secret, just came through Intelligence. The first mission Cid has completely ignored and left up to me."

Irvine stood up and extended his hand to Squall. "Well, then, mission accepted, sir," he said with his winning smile.

"Good." Squall gave him a rare smile in return. "We're hoping to entice you to stay at Balamb, you know."

Irvine cocked his head. "Really."

Squall shrugged. "Well, the official stance on it is that all of the "Sorceress's Warriors" should be kept together at one Garden."

"Yeah." He paused. "So then, what's the unofficial stance?"

"No one wants to see you go."

Irvine blinked.

Squall shrugged again, coming around to the front side of the desk, resting on the only semi-clear part. "From what I've heard from the others, at least, they all want the "Orphanage Gang" to stick together for a while. We all went through heaven and hell, and we kind of ..." He paused, not knowing how to phrase the words properly. "We should stick together. At least for now."

Sighing, the young leader of Balamb Garden stood and opened the door for Irvine. "Who knows - things may get worse, and we may need each other again. Think about it, Irvine. Oh - I'll be sending out the papers to your dorm room - classes start day after tomorrow."

Irvine headed for the elevator, but as the doors closed, he remained still, leaned up against the wall. Thinking.

No one wants to see you go.

He had always been the odd one out. The only SeeD cadet not from Balamb. The outsider on the little clique. Even Rinoa was included in things - she was their client (and Squall had always been partial to her). Irvine had clawed and scratched his way into the group, and at times he felt that there were still walls he'd never be able to break. Even with their strangely-united pasts, he had still been the loner. The lone gunman. The Galbadian Cowboy. He had been the only one who had remembered.

No one wants to see you go.

Why had it taken Squall - cold, emotionless Squall - to tell him this? Why was no one else telling him whether he was important or not?

A voice - a whisper across his consciousness:

I wish you were taking it too.

The Instructor tests - the results should be up!

Irvine punched the first-floor button in anticipation, wondering where they would be. The results would be posted in the front lobby for everyone to see. Should he check there first? Or should he look around for them, wait to hear it from their own lips?

The elevator doors opened and rendered the question moot: even from the elevator he could hear Selphie squealing.

They were gathered around the display in the front lobby. Selphie was jumping up and down in happiness; Zell was punching the air in his trademark; and Quistis, calm as always, was the first to notice Irvine.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," he said, leaning up against the display, tilting his hat up to get a better look at everyone.

Selphie flung herself at him like a little yellow missile, grinning from ear to ear. He swung her around in a circle with a growing smile. "Irvy, we passed," she squealed. "And Quistis received Honor Marks on her performance - well, we all did, but she sure cleaned up - and she's going to be teaching real complex stuff for upper-level SeeD cadets, and I get to teach the intro class, and Zell is second-level with combat and defense training, and we all have jobs in Balamb!" She gave him a final squeeze and then left, leaping on Quistis in a similar manner. The blond, looking amused and bemused, patted her on the back as she continued to squeal.

Irvine took the opportunity to look over the list. High Honor Marks given on performance to all - although, honestly, Quistis's written exam had been nearly perfect. He grinned at Zell and clapped the martial arts master on the back.

"Oh man." Zell couldn't stop grinning. "Wait 'til I tell Ma." He rubbed the back of his neck, pleased; but he was next to be hit by a bright, squealing Selphie missile.

"Well," Quistis said. "Irvine, I wish you were teaching with us."

He gave her a practiced smirk. "Darlin', I'll be around for a little while longer."

"What?" Selphie threw herself off Zell, astounded. "How are you getting Balamb to support you, lazy-face?"

Irvine was laughing. "Special assignment from Squall. There's a mission coming up and I've been assigned to train us some snipers."

"Oh, this is so great!" Selphie threw herself at him again. "We'll all be together, teaching and hanging out and we get to stay in Balamb and work with Squall and Rinoa and everyone!" She detached herself long enough to look Irvine in the face and say : "Now you have to get certified and teach here forever or I'll never forgive you."

Irvine felt himself blushing bright red.

Zell noticed the look and said, "Yeah, Irvine, what are you planning on doing now?"

"Well..."

His thoughts separated themselves from the conversation.

What am I planning on doing now? I want to stay here with all of you. I want to be the family we were when we traveled to defeat Ultemecia. I want to be the family we were in the orphanage with the Kramers. I want to belong somewhere.

But I'm not going to stay if no one wants me. I'm not going to hang on to something unattainable. I spent too much of my life dreaming of a perfect world - I'm not going to be disappointed.

Realizing suddenly that he had trailed off, he said with a smirk, "I could be talked into staying around for a while."

"You certainly should," Quistis said. "It would be a shame for all of us to be separated now."

Selphie checked her boots in her usual nervous habit. "I was nervous that the only openings would be somewhere else," she admitted. "I mean, I feel like I should go back to Trabia - but I want to stay here, with everybody."

Zell grinned. "I mean, I've gotta stick around here and take care of Ma," he said. "But yeah, I want all my friends here too."

Irvine hit himself in the forehead. "Why didn't you guys tell me about your fantastic plan?" he asked, and then was hit with a sudden, embarrassing thought. "Or ...am I not invited?"

"Irvine," Quistis snapped with more force than she meant, "you're the one always moping about being the 'lone cowboy'. You're the one who pretends you don't need us. Don't give me this 'always left out' thing again."

"Q," Irvine replied, with more pain in his voice than he intended, "I'm not kidding. There's a little Balamb Club, and I'm not in it. That's okay."

Quistis's shining blue eyes narrowed. "You're the one who keeps up that wall," she said angrily. "You're the one keeping us out."

There was an awkward moment of silence. Irvine's mind, usually racing, was strangely empty. What can I say to that? Nothing came to mind.

Finally he gathered all his courage together and said softly: "It just hurts to be the one on the outside. The only one who really remembers. You've all forgotten what were the happiest days of my life. I don't want... I don't want to get forgotten again."

Another poignant moment followed. Finally, Irvine shook his head, his long hair whipping behind him.

"Forget it." He lifted his gaze off the floor, catching three concerned gazes: aquamarine, icy blue, brilliant green. Swallowing his feelings - you're going to hate this later - he gave them a winning smile. "C'mon. Forget it. Let's go celebrate for you guys."

Quistis shrugged, as if to say, whatever. Her gaze then caught someone familiar behind him - "Xu!" she called out, and hurried over to the dark-haired girl who was her friend.

Zell took the opportunity to run. "I'm gonna go, uh, brag about it," he said, his glance toward the library betraying his real destination.

Selphie turned to Irvine; he smiled at her and proposed, "Take a walk with me?"

She grinned and tucked her hand into his offered arm.

Another plan was playing across Irvine's mind, and his gut said it was a good idea. "So now's the time to celebrate, huh?"

Selphie looked at him, excitement spreading across her face. "What do you mean?"

He grinned. "So like, we have to throw a party now," he said. "You guys all passed your tests. Let's get the gang together and celebrate like we should."

Selphie squealed. "We'll make Rinoa and Squall and everyone take a day off from work and we'll go down to the beach!" Her fingers tightened on Irvine's arm. "You have the best ideas, Vin! We can head down through Balamb, stop in and visit Zell's mom!"

"We can ask in the cafeteria if they'll make a picnic," Irvine suggested, and was rewarded by another squeal.

"I haven't had a picnic in ages!" Selphie's eyes were sparkling. "This'll be so fun, we've all got..." Her voice trailed off.

Irvine looked down at her, perched on the arm of his suede coat. Her green eyes were filled with a question.

A question he didn't think he could answer.

How can I tell her everything I'm thinking? He paused there, staring into her eyes for what seemed like the longest moment ever. If she hasn't remembered everything, she'll never understand what my life has been. What it is now. How I fought off loneliness and despair with dreams of a girl I knew I'd never see again. She was still looking up at him, the question on her lips, her deep eyes frantically trying to read his face, access his secrets. Panic. He felt himself assembling the Kinneas charm again, trying to distract her piercing gaze before it could get too deep.

You're the one keeping us out. Quistis's voice, echoing in his mind.

Damn.

"Irvine," Selphie said softly.

I can't let her in. Not yet.

But her eyes were melting his mask, eating away at his wall.

"Not now, Seff," he said cautiously.

For a second her eyes flared, and he wondered just how much she had remembered; she looked ready to fight, ferocious and yet darling at the same time. But then she smiled sweetly at him and said, "Alright, Irvy," her slender fingers squeezing his arm.

"Look," Irvine said. "Why don't you go find Squall and see when he and Rinoa are free tonight and tomorrow. I'm going to go ...take care of something. I'll meet you back here."

"Okay!" The look was gone, replaced with her usual perpetual cheerfulness - and Irvine found himself wondering if Selphie, too, had a wall of her own; much different than his, but a blockade nonetheless. She gave him a smile and hurried off to the elevator. He heard a high-pitched squeal as she ran into someone she knew and smiled in spite of himself.

He was in no hurry to apologize to Quistis, but he found his feet carrying him back to the front lobby, where the tall blonde was resting on a bench, talking to Xu. Irvine was there before he liked it, and when Xu noticed him approaching she waved goodbye to Quistis and left.

He took a seat beside Quistis, resting his elbows on the knees of his chaps, leaning forward. Neither one of them looked at each other; they both stared forward listlessly.

Finally, Quistis stirred. "We're more alike than you think."

Irvine turned to look at her, straightening. "You and me?"

"Yeah." Quistis sighed. "But all of us. I can't chastize you for putting up a wall when I do it too." She turned to look at him, apology in her icy blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Irvine. I didn't mean to snap at you."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "And I didn't mean to take it so seriously."

Quistis leaned back, crossing her ankles in front of her. She looked mildly upset - pensive and thoughtful. "It's true, Irvine. We've all got walls. We're all playing charades."

It wasn't often that Quistis opened herself up, so Irvine prodded gently: "What do you mean, Q?"

She sighed. "Look at us. Actors. Squall's cold and emotionless because he's afraid of attachment. Selphie's spunky and cheerful because she wants everybody to like her. Zell feels he has to be tough and impetuous so that nobody will think he's a cry-baby. And me - I have to be perfect on the outside, so nobody knows how insecure I am."

Irvine had to smile. "We're not perfect, Quistis. None of us. We didn't have perfect lives. None of us ever had anything to fall back on - any sort of support. We had to depend on ourselves, and sometimes that means things happen that we don't like."

She bowed her head for a second, trying to regain her composure; and then let out a bitter laugh. "Even you. You act like you're this flirtatious wandering cowboy, this carefree playboy figure - because you're afraid to commit."

"Hey, hey, hey." He tapped her on the arm. "I thought we were talking about you."

"It's true, though." Her eyes were watery, and Irvine realized suddenly that Quistis was close to tears. Swamped with compassion, he put an arm around her; she rested her head on his shoulder. "My whole life I've felt like I have to prove myself to somebody. Somebody else. We all do it - we're so concerned with images and appearances..."

"Quistis." Irvine squeezed her shoulder. "How much do you remember about the orphanage?"

She sniffled into his coat. "Not much," she confessed quietly. "I've been here since I was 10. I'm pretty sure my chances of remembering anything are slim to none."

"When we were all together at the orphanage," Irvine began, wondering how he could convey his thoughts in a way Quistis would understand, "even though we fought and argued and kicked and bit and told on each other, we were together. A family. Yes, we were only four years old. But it was something like security." He paused, gathered his thoughts, and then continued. "But when Ellone left, we started to fall apart. Then people came, and one by one we were separated - each of us pulled off on our own, with only a memory of the way things were supposed to be. Of course we closed ourselves off, of course we retreated from the real world - we didn't know what it was like to be alone. We had always had each other."

He squeezed her shoulder again. "Give it time, Quistis. We're back together. You have loads of friends here who will accept you for what you are - nothing less and nothing more."

She sat up, a small smile across her face, and he teased: "And if that falls through, I hear you have your own squad of admirers wandering the halls of Balamb."

She elbowed him in the gut. "And I was just about to compliment you for your sincerity, cowboy," she murmured.

He tipped his hat at her. "Any time, madam. Any time."

He stood to go, but Quistis grabbed his hand. "Irvine," she said, her voice almost pleading, and he stopped.

"Promise me you'll tell me about the orphanage someday."

He smiled. "Of course."

"Heeeeeeey!"

Selphie ran down from the elevator and skidded to a halt in front of the duo. "Squall's a big fuddy-duddy," she said with a playful grimace, "but lucky for us Rinoa's in the library. I sent her up to talk to Squall." She reached out and squeezed Irvine's hand. "We're gonna have a party!!"

Somehow, seeing Selphie happy always made a smile bloom across his face.





Later that evening he retreated to the second-floor balcony again.

This time he brought a friend.

He had named the guitar Exeter when he first got it, a young idealistic Galbadian trainee who wanted nothing more than to have a chance to shoot the famous rifle. The guitar was old - very old. He bought it right after his first mission - he'd saved every penny. Named it after the Exeter rifle he knew he'd shoot someday - at least that was an attainable dream.

Initially, the guitar was just a toy to him, something to pass away the spare time. Something to convince himself that he was deep and intense without having to dig too far. But the music spoke to him in a way that only the sunrise could, and soon he found that he wasn't faking. The light twanging of the strings, the way their voices sang in harmony - it was real.

He realized later that it had been his second memory of his father.

He held it now across his lap, cross-legged on the cool floor of the small alcove, its beaten but polished black surface with delicate red inlays glowing in the sunset. Strum. Strum. And then his fingers picked up in a melody that only they could decipher, the light voice of the guitar fading over the walls.

Tomorrow he would get his SeeD briefing for the job he had been assigned. The next day, all four of them would begin teaching - he and Selphie has been assigned to the group of SeeD cadets about to face their exam. Zell was teaching a general martial-arts defense class and Quistis was way up in her Advanced Limit Break section. Maybe if he liked it he would apply for Instructorship - though he'd never be a good Instructor. Too much of his life had been spend staring through the scope of a rifle.

His fingers stopped to take a breather and he strummed some familiar old song peacefully. Poor Quistis. He had always felt close to her for some reason; they teased each other like brother and sister. Maybe it was because Quistis was observant enough to not fall for Irvine's trademark charm. The good looks and sexy demeanor that had protected him from getting close to anyone.

He sighed. His hands adjusted themselves and began to pick out a slow, soft country tune he had picked up on a mission somewhere. She'd been right; they all had walls.

And his was dangerously close to coming down.