Once again I do not own Squaresoft… damnation. Not even Squall, poor unexpecting fool. It's going to be a while (like another chapter) before Seifer and Quistis meet up again. And for the better lack of words thanks to the people who reviewed. I didn't expect anything, honestly but please if I'm doing anything slight wrong or anything just tell me. I won't kill you…

Or maybe I will…

P.S. WHO WILL BETA ME? If you would like to please review and tell me or email me at im_nastified@msn.com much thanks!

~Hoarfrost; The Taste of Crimson, November 2003.

Glory is like a circle in the water,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself,
Till by broad spreading it disperses to naught.

William Shakespeare

Chapter II

He listened for faint footsteps but heard none. Opening his eyes, a sense of relief raised to his chest but not the panic. No, his heart still thumped passionately like there was no tomorrow and his eyes never seemed to focus. And the reflection from the transmitter that was inserted in his head years ago, still reflected on his floor. Yes, his floor. He closed his eyes again, never forgetting the fear he felt moments ago. But he liked to forget that he was still a damned coward. Still, not was. Still. He exhaled, biting his lips refusing to remove his body from the floor. Like a goddamn bomb was going to be thrown into his ratty window that had glass broken in from the damn neighborhood gangs. Shit, if they did that when he was home, they sure as hell wouldn't be going back home without a few broken limbs. They'll also be locked in the apartment basement that was infested with cockroaches.

Those almost got a chuckle from his lips, almost but not quite. After a few moments passed and no suspicion moving, other than the drunks up stairs that were fighting (again), he rose from the floor. Dusting off the small particles of dusk from his grey trenchcoat and his black pants. He watched a furry white rat scramble across the floor with a piece of cookie from the floor. He rolled his eyes as he ruffled his hair.

Why didn't those damn things come out when he was fucking sleep? Probably to scare his ass out of his damn household without bringing his food. He snatched a bottle of vodka from his counter and threw off the cap, with a quick gulp, he finished the remainders. Fucking shit, he didn't even have enough to pay for another bottle. It seemed like everyday the grocery stores were trying to put him in fucking poverty. A bottle of vodka was now six dollars and ninety nine cents. They might as well round it two seven twenty, stupid asses. Always trying to fool poor unexpecting drunks and making them think that they are paying less for their daily booze. Bull shit.

He sighed, kicking over a bottle of whiskey out of his way as he journeyed towards his kitchen. Feeling the need to fucking eat, the hunger was unexpecting maybe it was because he was scared. Nawh that was bull shit. It was maybe because the transmitter somehow targeted his stomach and made him hungrier… And for he can eat their poisonous food that will knock his ass out, and have another transmitter (one that WORKS) that can actually track him.

Fuck it, he shouldn't think. Especially when he's half drunk and half scared, he opened his refrigerator sighing as nothing but a canister of butter popped out. He swore as he slammed the refrigerator shut, trying to rethink ways to get food and alcohol into his possession. Hyne, how much closer can he be to fucking poverty? He almost qualified. Oh course, he would have to not have an apartment or at least that's what they said in the city of Bakah. Stupid politics, don't they understand that a grown man was starving and couldn't get work because well… it would be just dumb to show his face up again especially in public. Prowling the night was a different story but working a nine to five job, where some granny may recognize him and call up Squall then have the police arrest him…

Stop thinking, we already established the fact that I shouldn't think when I'm drunk.

Sorry, oh Hyne, now he was talking to himself. Stop thinking, he reminded himself as he begun to pace. Beer would be nice at the moment but so would a steak dinner. Shit, he began rampaging through his coat jacket, realizing he stolen money from that businessman he killed.   

Hallelujah, a twenty dollar bill. Charming.

He glanced at the twenty more closely, realizing the businessman was probably a thug. He ripped the twenty into shreds as he tapped against his temple exasperated. Almost wishing he didn't swear that he would stop his life of crime (and result to booze instead). But shit, he killed somebody, what is so felonyish about stealing (twenty years of prison) but hell; he is so close to life in prison or death sentenced that he might as well eat before he is killed. Fuck it, he already made up his mind, he was going to eat and drink, sit his ass down and watch the news and be drunk and merry. There was no other way around it and since the businessman he killed/robbed was a conman anyways, then he might as well get his fucking justice… and besides why the hell is the grocery store going to miss… he opened his refrigerator again, milk, bread, some frozen pizza, some Doritos and… don't forget booze, booze. They wouldn't.

That would be just stupid if they did. He closed the refrigerator door again and began setting out the door. Shit don't forget the gunblade. Hah, like he was going to hold up the grocery store with a fucking gunblade, a pistol would just be dandy for what he had to do. He smiled as he began walking out the door. Fuck, if he was arrested at least he was going to be arrested for something reasonable.

STOP THINKING.

Oh yeah he forgot about that.

~*~

Quistis Trepe tapped her ballpoint against her desk, sighing as the day continued to prolong. Her eyes were closed and one hand was wrapped around a warm cup of coffee that alerted her senses. The sun beamed on her desk, sighing upon the beautiful paperwork that needed to be done and the ringing from her desk phone continued to ring (nonstop, mind you). And occasional secretaries came around her desk to remind her that her daily check ups with Squall was in twenty or fifteen minutes. Every five minutes they would come on as if they didn't see that she had work to be done (work that she hasn't even begun).

She sighed, continuing to tap her pen. If the day got any worse than she had to call the day off. It was too long of a fucking day as she pointed out before and being assigned to desk job wasn't making the day any shorter. Seemed to get longer as the months passed by or as they continued to move her from job to job, trying to figure out what her talents fit for.

Instructor, she wanted to cry, that's where my talents at, out but damn if she haven't done that before it might be surprising. Might.

"Quistis, five minutes until…"

"Shut up and go away now, Rose."

Rose whimpered and swayed away with her big full hips. The only reason why a twit like Rose ever got hired, if it wasn't for her hips and how she spread her legs every twenty fucking minutes of the bloody damn day… Quistis chuckled to herself as she set her coffee down. See, she was putting herself in a good mood. Dandy.

She walked out her cubical that only sat in it was a computer, a desk that the computer sat on and a VERY comfy chair. On top of the desk was a cup that read "Greatest Friend" (from Selphie to Selphie but decided that she didn't have a gift for Quistis and gave it to Quistis), that was filled with trash, because Quistis already had a pen collector. A pile of neon yellow, pink and green sticky notes that read random important things and a stack full of paperwork that she hasn't even touched since she filled up her famous coffee mug (black no lettering on it) with exhilarating, marvelous and nutritious coffee. She was glad that she could be out of her stuffy cubical.

She walked down the pasty halls of Balamb, occasional pictures of the heroes of Balamb Garden, including herself but most days she can avoid her picture. A few awards and trophies, showing the others from different Gardens that "yes we do kick ass everything and we are the best" and a royal blue carpet that rolled down the floor every morning and put up every night. She turned right and watched the big monogamy door open. As if Squall could read her mind, he greeted her and invited her inside, like she had a choice. All she wanted to do was to decline and go back to her stuffy but clean desk.

She smiled and nodded her head she walked inside the bland walls of freshly painted black. A few scattered black leather furniture here and there and the light from the "outside" world blocked out for the black heavy drapes covered it. Yep, it was Squall, oh and on his desk was stacked with "CONFIDENTAL" stamped vanilla folders and a large picture of Rinoa and himself in Trabian Mountains. She felt right at home. She sat down, in front of him, clasping her hands together and setting them in her lap.

"Morning," He nodded as he pulled out a couple sheets of paper, "As you may well know we're conducting a search for Almasy. We have spotted him many places, including Trabia, Galbadia and even Deiling. There were times where we might have lost him but I'm only saying that we were reloading our guns," A snort came from Quistis, "Anyhow, he has been yet found again. He is under suspicion of killing a Galbadian conman and a few other dumplings along the way. But that isn't important, what is important is I'm sending you on this mission. It's important you succeed or you'll be failing our Garden and letting the Trabia's get him before we do. Now, let me remind you, all the Gardens are after his arrest, I just prefer to get him first since we've been tracking him for quite a while. We know of his locations and quite sometimes his actions."

"What's the mission?"

"Find out his motives, find out what he was thinking when he became the Sorceress' Knight and when he tried to destroy the world. We don't want execute our own, it'll make our Garden look bad and who in the hell would apply to here once we execute our own? Nobody, do this fast and without notice. We don't want to drawl attention to you, we're sending out notices in a few days that our connection with you has died and is static."

"Why?" Quistis asked raising a single golden eyebrow, "What the hell does this have to do with anything?"

"Because if we can also say that you became a prisoner or war of some sort and you'll be near Trabia's land that's why. We also won't be blamed for any damages on Seifer, if you make some, because we can say he was captured too… Get the drift? We don't want to deal with anything that may inflict on our goal and that's to get Almasy and KEEP Almasy." Squall smiled, "Don't worry, you fail."

She nodded as Squall handed her the paperwork as he continued, "As you might know, Bakah is a town of sixteen hundred at the most, everybody knows each other and everybody has once in their life committed a life of crime. So that means whatever happens in Bakah, stays in Bakah, so if any of them knows a Seifer Almasy or Kris or whatever he's going by this week, they won't say. It's the honor policy; they didn't see and won't tell. So, if you want Almasy, you'll have to find him, yourself. Don't let the words "Balamb, Trabia" or any of the Gardens come out your mouth. There may be others there and… we don't want Almasy to scrabble away, especially when we're so close. Good luck and come back."

He winked, "Kidding."

He was in a good mood, she noted as she nodded and walked out with the paperwork in her hand. She finally reached her desk, swearing as she slammed the paperwork on top of other piles. She hated missions. An especially mission that dealt with Almasy because that meant somebody ass was always on the line and this time it was hers. She opened her eyes and glanced at the information of Bakah. "On the border of Trabia"

Shit. She was also near enemy lines, he forgot to mention it was a do or die mission. He probably didn't, probably didn't want to scare her ass into not going. Even though, she would because she had too. She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples.