good HYNE, this chapter took forever, and it's really bloody long! ...i really enjoyed writing it, though. LOTS of backstory, emotion, and all-around goodness. enjoy!


Chapter Six





There was a knock at the door, and it woke Irvine up.

In a daze, rubbing his eyes with one hand, he yanked the door open. Selphie stood there, dressed in yellow and jeans, carrying a binder full of papers that looked suspiciously like the essays she had been grading. She took one look at Irvine and her eyes widened; she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep in the half-giggle, half-gasp.

Irvine looked down groggily and realized that he must look unkempt - old, dusty jeans, unbuttoned white shirt. Long brown hair unbound, cascading down his back, falling into his face. All of the above rumpled from his inadvertent nap.

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly at Selphie's shock. "I must have fallen asleep."

"Looks like it," she said with a giggle. "Do you want me to go?"

Not at all. "Nah," he said with a yawn, "I'm already awake. Come on in."

"I just wanted to see what you were up to," Selphie said, setting the folder down and clasping her hands behind her back. She took a couple nervous steps and then said with a grin: "And you've forgotten about out party!"

Irvine laughed, throwing himself on the couch, stretching his long, lanky legs out on the cushions next to him. "No way, babe," he said. "I thought you had forgotten."

"I thought you had forgotten," Selphie mimicked. "That's your favorite phrase." She emphasized each word with a poke of the folder. "You need to have more faith in us, Vin!"

Ouch. He shrugged it off with a smile, stretching vigorously. He noticed pink on Selphie's cheeks - right, my shirt's still undone. Whoops. But it would be too awkward to do it up now. He sat up and patted the couch next to him.

Selphie lit lightly on the cushions, tucking her legs delicately under her chin and crossing her ankles. She was so cute. She set the folder down on the cushion between them and Irvine nabbed it.

"What are these?"

"Oh," she said, reaching for the folder. "Those are the essays - I'm handing them back tomorrow, but I'm having trouble with two of them. Well, I'm not having trouble grading them," she said with a playful grimace. "But I'm not sure what sort of comments to give them on how to improve. They're both in your class as well." She fished them out of the folder and presented them to Irvine with a flourish. "Can I have your advice?"

"You want me to read them?" Irvine took the offered papers, shaking his head and laughing slightly. "I doubt I'll be much help with grading, Seff."

"Just read them," she said. "One of them is the kid that was talking back last time."

"Talking back?"

She giggled. "The one that gave you the idea of the gun pop quiz," she said. "Some of the other students tattled on him to me." Her face grew serious. "I don't want him to have an attitude problem like Seifer," she said. "What can I tell him that'll help him without being insulting?"

Irvine was scanning the paper. "First off," he murmured absently, "tell the kid to check a grammar textbook."

Selphie laughed and scooted over on the couch, bending over the paper. Irvine's senses swam with citrus. "I did," she said, amused. "Look at this sentence." Circled in bright orange pen - Selphie's correcting color of choice - and underlined three times. "It doesn't even have a verb."

Irvine continued to read over her shoulder. "You need to tell him to take more pride in his work," he said slowly. "I mean, it's obvious that he gave this thing no time or effort. Even I did better in my SeeD reports." He turned the page. "He just needs to understand that he can't coast through this stuff - it's a reflection of himself, of the kind of SeeD that he's going to be. Ask if he'd be proud to have this in his permanent file."

Selphie's eyes grew wide and then closed in a brilliant smile. "Irvine, you're brilliant!" She took the paper and whipped the orange pen out of the pocket of her crisp bell-bottoms, scribbling hastily. "That's just what I was looking for." She finished a sentence, paused, and looked up at him. "How did you know?" she asked softly.

He smiled wryly at her. "I got some similar comments in school as well," he admitted.

Her eyes widened again in mock shock. "You did not," she said, teasing.

"I wasn't always a stellar student," Irvine said, leaning back comfortably on the couch. She was still so close to him... "They all thought I had an attitude problem," he continued; Selphie's head shot up briskly.

"An attitude problem?" she asked haughtily. "They don't know you, then. You've got the best attitude of anyone I know!"

Irvine felt himself blushing. "I didn't, Seff," he pointed out gently. Then, with a broad smile, "I wasn't always the wonderful person I am now."

"Fine, Mr Wonderful," she said, throwing the other paper at him, "tell me what's wrong with this cadet."

"Mr Wonderful?" Irvine raised an eyebrow. "I could get used to that."

Selphie relaxed and leaned back into the couch beside him, chewing her pen as she pondered over the right words - there. Irvine's warmth next to her was just so comforting. She'd known right away that he'd be able to help her with the essays. Just as he'd always helped her with everything else, always volunteering his time and effort to make sure everything she did was a success. What a friend.

Friend?

She bit down on the pen, hard. She didn't want to bother herself over that. It was just so nice, sitting here on the couch, enjoying his presence and his silence without having to think too hard...

He spoke up. "This kid's an arrogant jerk who didn't study. I'm not sure what to tell him."

She looked up, meeting his eyes over her knees. His handsome face was framed in wisps of soft brown, looking strangely clear without the shadow of the cowboy hat; and his crooked smile was doing very odd things to her heart...stop it. "You don't have any advice about arrogant jerks, then?"

He shrugged, turning his deep violet gaze back to the paper. "Not this one," he said. "What's wrong with it?"

She took it from him slowly. "I'm not sure. I had a whole batch of comments prepared for this sucker ...but then I thought maybe I was being too mean."

He laughed. "I don't think you can be too mean for this kid," he said. "Honestly. He needs to realize that this stuff isn't gonna cut it."

"But..." She was reluctant. "I don't want him to hate me."

"Seff, you're his Instructor." Irvine slowly moved the paper so he could look her in the face. "You're going to have to be a bitch at some point. You can't let him get off easy just because you want him to like you. He doesn't have to like you. He has to learn from you."

She chewed the end of the pen, still unsure.

"Look," Irvine said softly, "you're spunky, fun little Selphie. No student is gonna hate you for long."

She looked up at him sharply, but couldn't tell whether or not he was teasing her.

"In fact," he continued, the familiar twinkle now present in his eyes, "I bet you get your own little clan of worshipers. Whatever will we call them?"

She giggled in spite of herself. "Like the Trepies, huh?"

"Exactly." He grinned. "A little squad that follows you everywhere and keeps track of all of your stats."

She grimaced. "Gross, Irvine."

"But what can we call them?" he mused, as if he hadn't heard her. "The Tilmies doesn't exactly work. The Selphites, perhaps?"

"You're ridiculous!" She was blushing.

"My worst nightmare," he persisted. "Having the Selphites for competition. I'll have to figure out a way to get rid of them."

"You're horrible!"

"I'll send them all to Quistis!" He snapped his fingers. "Then I won't have to worry about it!"

She laughed. "I'm not the one with romantic love-sick cadets following me everywhere and swooning over my every move, Irvine dear."

He shook his head, grinning. "Neither am I."

"Oh, right," she scoffed. "One tip of the cowboy hat and they all come running."

He gave her a sidelong look. "Why do you think I'm not wearing it?"

Awkward pause.

"Look," he said, breaking the silence by tapping the paper. "Just tell this kid that you'll be expecting a better piece of work next time. Break it to him easy if you want. But break it to him."

"Whatever you say, Irvy," she murmured, bending over the paper. "I just want all of my students to like my class," she said.

"You won't have to worry about that, Seff, sweetie." She glanced up to see his grin. "They'll love your class."

"I hope so," she said, vehemently underlining her comment and then tucking the papers away in the folder. "I just - I really want to be able to share everything we learned with them. I want them to understand everything. But I don't want them to - to talk about me like they do some of the other Instructors." She flushed. "Like I used to talk about my Instructors."

"What kind of a student were you, Seff?"

She bit her lip, thinking. "A decent student. I got good grades - but I really wasn't that smart, not like Quistis, I just worked really hard for it. And I was involved in all sorts of things over at Trabia." She smiled, reminiscing. "Trabian students were always more active, more involved. We had more spirit. Here in Balamb..." She shrugged. "I'm the odd one out!"

Irvine's favorite phrase, coming from her lips. Interesting.

Selphie smiled. "I was always trying to do better and better," she said. "My teachers all thought I was going to burn out. I mean, I wasn't top of the class - nowhere close. I just wanted to do everything I possibly could. Guess it still shows." She paused, and then asked: "Alright then, Vin, what kind of student were you?"

He laughed. "A bad one."

She rolled her eyes. "I know for a fact that's not true."

He shrugged. "Some stuff came naturally; but stuff I didn't understand, I wouldn't even try for. I'd only do what came easily and ignore everything else." He poked her arm. "Bet your grades were better than mine."

"We'll never know," she said mystically, a teasing smile crossing her lips. "But what did you do? What were you like?"

A thousand answers came to mind.

A silly kid with a cowboy hat, playing a game. A boy using his good looks as a facade. Someone who spent their entire youth yearning for a daydream.

He shrugged and looked away. "I was a loner," he said.

She was scrutinizing him. "But what about all those pretty girls?"

She's putting me on the spot. I can't take this.

Slowly he said, "I had friends, but no real friends. I had ...acquaintances. Dates. I never had anyone for real."

She blinked, suddenly realizing that he was being serious. "Irvine," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

For what? I'd tell you anything.

He shrugged. "It's the truth. Not a big deal."

"You look upset."

"Nah." He stretched, trying to brush it off. "It wasn't the happiest of times, that's all."

She smiled. "I can imagine. I don't know what I would have done with no one to talk to at Trabia. Galbadia seemed so much more ...formal. And mean."

"It was very competitive," Irvine admitted. "Everyone was always trying to one-up everyone else. You just found something you were good at and they drilled it into you."

"The Best Shooter in Garden," Selphie murmured. "No wonder."

"Yeah," he said, a grin reappearing on his face. "I always liked guns, and once they found I had skill with them, there was no turning back. Not at all. They capitalized on everything you were good at."

"And being a sniper drew the ladies?" Selphie asked again.

Irvine looked at her quizzically, but she wasn't being petty or superficial - she genuinely looked interested. Interested in Irvine's past. He swallowed.

"It was a lot of things," he said. "I guess. I never figured it out - I just appreciated what it did for me."

"I'm sure you did," she said idly.

"I liked the company," Irvine said suddenly, and realized that it was the truth. I was always alone - and when I found a way to get people to talk to me, like me, touch me - it was so tempting -

She looked at him, smile spreading. "You were a womanizer because you were lonely?" She shook her head. "That's hard to believe."

"In a way, it was the whole Galbadian mind set - it was something I was good at," Irvine mused. "I don't know." Then he blinked - and stuck his tongue out. "And I was not a womanizer," he said sulkily.

Selphie burst out laughing, a flash of radiance. "Yes, you were," she said, choking on her mirth, struggling to get the words out.

He feigned insult. "Was not."

She lost herself in giggles again. "Irvine," she managed to say finally, "it was the first thing they told me. 'Watch out for Kinneas, he's a skirt chaser.' And -"

"A skirt chaser?" Irvine started to laugh in response. "That was the best they could come up with?"

"See?" Selphie crowed triumphantly. "You are!"

Irvine was laughing with her, each of them fueling the other with amusement. Irvine finally sighed and lay back, correcting her gently: "Was, darlin'. Was."

"Sure, sure."

"I don't need to chase women any more," he said, starting to grin.

"Vinny," she said, shaking her finger at him, "I told you not to tease me like that."

She trailed off, gazing at him with an odd expression on her face.

Then she grimaced, interrupting the moment. "I'm hungry."

"Have you had dinner yet?"

"Nope." She glanced at the clock.

"Good," Irvine said, standing up. "Let's order something for delivery. What would you like?"

"Oooh," she squealed, "let's get a pizza sent up!"

Irvine headed for the phone, throwing her a glance over his shoulder. "And then," he said suspensefully, "we can start planning our party!"

Selphie's excited cheep was his only response.

"I'm just calling the caf, is that okay?"

She nodded. "Get mushrooms on my half," she said.

Irvine patched in the call for the cafeteria, carefully giving his room number and the order - fancy that, they both liked mushrooms - and terminated the dial-up, saying, "it'll be no longer than twenty minutes, so - hey!"

Selphie had stretched out on the couch and nabbed the remote for his small TV. She was flipping through the channels, pretending to ignore Irvine - but the smile slowly spreading across her face belied her intentions.

"This is my house," he said sternly, "and I get to pick the channels." He then proceeded to sit on her legs. "And I definitely get first dibs on couch space."

She stuck her tongue out and withdrew her legs, folding them up beneath her.

He held his hand out, twitching his fingers. "And?"

She chucked the remote at his head.

"Such a troublemaker," he murmured, smiling at her.

But Selphie wasn't watching the TV; he turned to look at her. Her head was cocked slightly to one side, giving her the look of some adorable little wild animal perched on the cushion. Her face was flushed from laughing and her eyes were bright as they studied him. Such a vibrant little creature - so full of life and spirit.

He realized he was staring.

"So," he said hastily, "about our party."

She blinked, coming back to reality suddenly. "Yeah," she said quasi-enthusiastically. "When do we want to have it?"

He shrugged. "I thought you talked to Rinoa."

"Well, yeah, but we didn't pick a day." She was absently twirling a piece of her hair around her finger, making it flare even more. "We could do it this weekend."

"Right." Irvine tapped his forehead as if making a mental note. "I'll go ask down at the caf if they can fix us up a picnic basket. We'll rent a car and take it to the beach."

Selphie grinned. "Zell will make us stop in with his ma."

Irvine grinned back. "That's fine. She makes the best desserts."

"Irvine, is she Zell's real ma?"

The question caught him off-guard; he bit his lip, thinking. "I don't believe so," he said. "I remember the day he left the orphanage vaguely - I think Matron would have made a bigger deal about it if - you know?" He struggled with the words. "I think if - if any of our families had come back, she would have..." He trailed off, not knowing what to say or how to say it.

Selphie gathered her knees to her chin again, slender ankles crossed, arms wrapping around her legs. "Who left first?" she asked.

Irvine gave a half-smile. "You did."

She blinked.

"Come on," he said gently. "You were the cutest of all of us - so spunky, so full of life. Instantly adorable. The couple couldn't take their eyes off of you."

She blinked, one hand coming up to cover her mouth in shock. "Tell me about them, Irvine," she whispered.

He looked away, and she reached out, urgently, her hand covering his. "Tell me what you remember," she said.

"Seff..." Impulsively he reached out and grazed his fingers across her cheek, cupping her face in his hand. He stared into her eyes; they were sparkling with longing and desire. Sincerity. Desperation. "Are you sure?"

She nodded wordlessly, her hair grazing the tips of his fingers, her eyes wide as he continued to stare at her as if he were lost, or drowning, or something.

Knock. Knock. "Pizza?"

Irvine dropped his hand as if it were on fire and stood up from the couch. He opened the door; one of the younger cadets stood there, pizza box in hand. Irvine reached into his back pocket, counted out a couple bills, and handed them to the young student. He came over and set it on the small table beside the couch.

"Smells good," Selphie whispered, not quite recovered. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing," he replied, opening the box.

"You like mushrooms?"

The mundaneness of the question made him laugh, breaking the tension. "Of course," he said, pulling a piece out. "It's the best way to have your pizza."

They munched in silence for a while. Comfortable, companionable silence. For a while.

Selphie couldn't resist. "So I left first," she repeated over her slice. "What happened next?"

He chewed and swallowed. Some part of him couldn't quite believe that he was actually sitting on his couch in bare feet and jeans talking to Selphie Tilmitt about the past over pizza. And so calmly.

"You went first," he said, "and then Zell. And then Quistis, actually - the couple wanted a little girl that they could bring up 'prim and proper like a girl should be.'"

"Prim and proper?" Selphie made a face. "I wonder if that's what Quisty meant when she said things didn't work out with her family."

Irvine smiled. "Well, she sure is proper - but she's not girly at all," he agreed.

Selphie wiped sauce off of her chin. "And then - you?"

Irvine nodded. "We've already guessed that Squall and Seifer didn't get picked up by the time Edea founded Garden and sent them off. That's about it."

She reached for another piece. "Thank you," she said softly. "I really like hearing these stories." And then, as an afterthought: "Tell me if it upsets you, Vin, I don't want to disturb you. Or seem like I'm pushing. I just..." She sighed. "I really like having the holes filled in."

His mouth twisted. "Of course, Seff," he said, genuine concern in his voice. "Anything I can do for you, I will."

"Really?"

He nodded.

"I want to know everything," she gushed suddenly. "Tell me the first thing you remember!"

"The first thing ...about the orphanage?"

"Yeah!" And then she blinked, and quieted down. "Wait. You mean ...you remember ...before...?"

Irvine deliberately wouldn't meet her eyes.

Selphie gasped. "What do you remember? Tell me, tell me!"

You don't know what you're asking.

"Is it your family?" Selphie was driven by an urge she didn't recognize. She didn't have her own past - so she wanted Irvine's.

"They were ranchers," he said quietly, "and we lived on the outskirts of a very small farming community. My parents were always taking in people they found - strays, refugees, renegades. People who got hurt by the war. I remember always having strangers at dinner."

He clenched a fist and released it slowly. "But at some point we must have helped the wrong person. Soldiers came to the house - I think they were from Esthar - and asked some questions I didn't understand. And then..."

Selphie's face was pale.

"And then I remember fire," Irvine said bitterly. "Flames everywhere. My mother shoving me into the secret room under the barn, and saying she'd be back with my sister..."

He closed his eyes. "And then I remember the orphanage," he finished.

"Oh..." Selphie's eyes were full of tears. Compassion engulfed her.

"That's one memory I could do without," Irvine said, his voice harsh. He turned his head to Selphie and she saw surprisingly that his eyes were watery.

He gave her a quirky smile. "That hat was my father's," he said softly, gesturing to the post on which the black hat rested above the suede jacket. "I guess the people who found me discovered it in the ...remains. Matron had some things in a box - gave it to me when I left."

Selphie gulped a little, trying to swallow the tears.

He looked at her, easily reading her mind and all too glad to change the subject. "I wonder if she has anything of yours?"

She realized he wanted to move on, forget about that horrible story. "I wonder," she said, her throat tight with sadness.

"You were..." He turned his head away, as if in thought. "I think your parents were merchants," he said. "You were always talking about a store, as if you lived there. And you always wanted to play shopkeeper."

Merchants. Selphie closed her eyes, savoring the thought. My parents ...they worked in a store.

"It's funny," she said impulsively, eyes still closed. "We all have such sad stories... and yet here we are, together again. It's like ...destiny."

She opened her eyes; Irvine was watching her with an odd hunger evident on his face. She reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a friendly squeeze.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know what I was asking. You didn't have to tell me."

He squeezed her hand back. "I've never told anyone that," he cautioned.

"Irvine," she said, "It's okay. You can open up. It's just me."

'It's just me'?

That's what I'm so afraid of, Seff.

"There weren't many paths for us to choose," he mused. "We all came the same way. That's why we're still together. Clinging to each other. We're the only ones who understand."

"I'm ...lost," Selphie said, bemused. "The only ones who understand what?"

"Understand each other." Her little hand still rested in Irvine's; he absently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "We're all afraid of something. Quistis is afraid of failure. Squall is afraid of being left alone - of being weak. Zell's afraid of being hurt. You." He looked at her, squeezing her hand in apology. "You're afraid of not being liked."

She bowed her head. "True," she admitted. Then she looked up, her green eyes like daggers. "And you?"

He laughed a bitter laugh. "I'm afraid of everything."

Afraid of rejection. Afraid of crumbling under pressure. Afraid of missing - missing the target, not making the shot. Being alone.

Afraid of not being good enough. Of disappointing and being discarded.

"No, you're not."

Her voice was sharp, piercing through his morose thoughts. "You're the bravest person I know, Irvy," she said stubbornly. "You were always there for me, no matter how dangerous it was. You stood up for all of us. You brought us together."

"Seff..."

But she looked straight at him, her eyes flaring. "You are a gorgeous person, Irvine Kinneas," she said, adamant and emphatic. "Stop thinking about yourself like you're not."

He could only look at her, lost in the strength of that gaze - those sparkling eyes he remembered from childhood, now full of spirit and sorrow and love and rage and compassion and grief- all for him. He was drowning, and she was the lifeline. Selphie was an angel.

"Look what you've come through," she said, her words emphasized by the force in her eyes. "The rest of us got to forget - we got to ignore the past, that we were destined to fight everything near and dear to our hearts. You had to keep all that knowledge all by yourself. No wonder," her voice broke, "no wonder you're a loner..."

She threw her arms around him.

He patted her back, dramatically confused.

"Don't be alone anymore, Irvine," she whispered to his shoulder.

He didn't know what to say. He had never expected Selphie to - to care so much - to be so dear, so touching, so cautious - to be someone he could depend on. He had never expected to open up to anyone - least of all her. This was impossible. His heart was melting into her arms...

"Irvine..."

She looked at him and suddenly, inexplicably, grinned.

"Only you and I could have a sincere moment over pizza."

He had to smile at her, and she started laughing, relieved at his smile.

"This is the best conversation I've ever had," she said, almost cheerful.

He scoffed at that, teasing her lightly, and she reached out to squeeze his hand again. "I'm serious. Let's talk like this all the time, Irvy." Her gaze dropped to the couch. "You're the first person who has ever talked to me like ...well," she said with a wry smile, "like I'm not a ditz."

He smiled at her. "No way, Seff. You're brighter than anything. You just catch people off guard." Like me.

"But you..." She smiled. "You trust me."

"I guess I do."

They sat, looking at each other, hand in hand on the couch. Both smiling in a faintly silly way. Both secretly insanely pleased with the other. Both horribly confused.

Selphie said softly, "I should be getting back."

"Nah," Irvine said. "Stay and keep a cowboy company."

She flicked her eyes to the hat, resting across the room, and then back to Irvine. "The cowboy's not here tonight," she replied.

Which one do I like better?

Irvine smiled. "He'll come back if you want him to."

"I like his other side, too," she said with a silly grin, squeezing his hand. "But really - it's late. We've been talking all night."

Irvine glanced at his clock - and swore.

"We really have been talking all night," he said, chuckling. "You and I both have class tomorrow." I forgot to tell her anything about the mission. Tonight's not a good night, anyway. "Do you want me to walk you home?"

"Nah." Selphie stretched and stood up. "It's not far."

"Thought I'd offer," he said, with a gentlemanly smile.

Selphie gathered her papers. "Hope I don't wake Quistis," she said, a sheepish smile on her face; it faded as she realized suddenly: "I hope Quistis isn't worried about me - it is kind of late."

"She'll figure you're out with a handsome man," Irvine teased.

"And so I am," Selphie said quickly, before she lost her nerve. Standing on her tiptoes, she gave Irvine a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Good night, cowboy," she whispered, and let herself out.