"Where there is no common power, there is no law; where no law, no injustice. Force and fraud are in war two cardinal virtues." ~ Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan.

Disciplined Breakdown

I never ever can contribute
To finding all the faults that sustain
Never mind the answers
To who spreads the cancer
When the questioning of why remains
I'd love to sit and rationalize
But my tongue's become dry
It seems I'm losing ground
Welcome all to my disciplined breakdown
(Collective Soul)

There was something wrong with the engine. The tiny yellow light had been blinking at her for the past couple of miles. Mockingly, she thought. As if it were saying, "you thought this hell was almost over? Ha ha, gotcha!"

Quistis glared back at the spiteful little warning sign. Even the car was against her.

Having no choice she checked for approaching vehicles in the rear-view mirror and flicked on the turning signal. As she steered the rig onto the soft shoulder she prayed it was nothing; that the light was just broken or that the problem was something so minor she could wait until they got to Timber to have it fixed. If not, she had a long wait ahead of her for Garden to send support.

Not bothering to glance at the man in the passenger seat she quickly unbuckled her seat belt and opened the car door. There was little traffic at this time of day so she didn't have any difficulties dodging the few vehicles that did pass by on the one-lane highway.

After popping open the hood Quistis bent to inspect for possible problems. Her nose wrinkled as the pungent odour of motor oil and fluid drifted over her olfactory glands. She titled her head and creased the light skin of her brow as she scrutinized the mechanical jumble before her.

All members of SeeD were trained in basic auto-mechanics in case of situations just like these. It was a necessary skill, along with methods of healing and avoiding status attacks. All were part of a SeeD's required knowledge. Essential for the various circumstances that may crop up.

It was just too bad Quistis had been bed-ridden with the flu the week her class had gone in for practical training. She had been expected to make it up but there had been no opportunity. She'd known enough from textbooks to pass the written requirements so by the time the field exam had rolled around her instructors had forgotten all about it.

Hence why she stood in front of the MRV now with a baffled look on her face.

There was some sticky crimson ooze coming out from beneath a belt and it looked like a few of the multi-coloured wires were tangled. But, she had no idea if this was how the bowels of a car were supposed to appear or not.

Running a hand over the metal combustion engine she realized it was hot. Featherlike steam vapoured from the sides. When she pulled her hand back up she saw that her palm was coated in black. Nice. Were all engines expected to be this dirty?

Giving up, she lowered the hood. If only she could recall what she had quoted from the texts so brilliantly on the exam. It was too long ago. And this was the first time she had ever been unfortunate enough to get caught in such an awkward situation.

Letting out a tiny growl to express her dismay she turned and leaned back against the front fender. Her eyes drifted toward the forested area a few miles up ahead. They were so close. About a half-hour beyond the trees sat Garden and the comfort of her bedroom. Both lay patiently in wait for her return. It wasn't fair.

She had a sudden childish urge to scream and stamp her feet. Too bad she was nineteen and her days of temper tantrums were over. She could use the release right about now. However, when the image of her best friend Xu attacked by a swarm of bite bugs popped unwittingly into her head it helped to quell some of her frustration. Oh yes, she would pay dearly for getting her involved in this.

That knowledge enabled her to concentrate on how to best handle the state of affairs at hand. She had several options. One ~ mosey over to the farmhouse she had passed a little while ago and see if they would let her use their phone to call Garden. Two ~ gather her vital supplies from the vehicle and walk the rest of the way. Three ~ wave down a passing civilian and see if they knew any more about engines than she did.

The latter, while the most optimal for her feet, which were not encased in shoes prepared for hiking long distances, did not exactly correlate with Garden regulations. SeeD members were to avoid involving non-Garden persons in SeeD business at all times. Even in cases such as this. They were supposed to be trained to handle everything.

Oops.

Whereas both the former two options involved waking up her travelling companion. Not a pleasant prospect in any sense of the term.

After the few curt words they'd spoken in the diner car park the rest of the drive had continued in silence. For which Quistis was eternally grateful. She wasn't ready to talk to him any more than Seifer was to talk to her. He'd finished his meal with minimal complaint, angled back the seat, and closed his eyes to drift into easy slumber.

She had been more than relieved, if not a little jealous at the casual way he had been able to relax under such palpable tension. Then again, the tension could be coming entirely from her side. At any rate, the last thing she wanted to do now was wake him up. To look in his eyes and experience the same flare-up of shame she received every time she thought of him.

It was stupid, she knew. There was nothing she could have done to stop it. He had made his own choices. But she seemed to have a guilt complex the size of the Grand-Diddy whenever her former student was concerned.

Enough procrastinating, Trepe, she commanded her body. Hurry up and get over yourself already. There are more important things to worry about right now.

Unenthusiastically, she reached for the metal handle and wrenched open the door. Leaving it open she hauled herself up onto the malleable seat.

Seifer was still asleep. Since his head was facing away from her all she could detect was his quiet, even breathing synchronized with the soft rise and fall of his chest. One leg was bent and pushed up against the side door while the other stretched long and lean out in front of him. For the first time since she had met him he appeared almost peaceful, comfortable in his moment of respite.

Startled with the sudden wave of sympathy that surged within her Quistis took a moment to observe the enigma that was Seifer Almasy. Lying there before her like that, with the seat tilted back, and clad in jeans and a worn sweatshirt, he could have been any nineteen-year-old male. Just by looking at him from this perspective one would never guess what he had endured. It was disconcerting.

She shook her head and tucked back a wayward strand of hair that refused to stay behind the clip with the rest.

It was useless to think of him that way. And dangerous. He wasn't a typical teenager. He was Seifer Almasy, traitor and rival of all Balamb Garden stood for. Beneath that youthful, relaxed exterior lounged a troubled man. All one had to do was look in his eyes to see a glimpse of the turmoil that was folded away inside. He was a man whose dreams were filled with terror and blood. Someone who had been granted all the opportunities in the world yet had turned them all away. A man she was positive she would never understand.

Loathe to wakening him Quistis coughed slightly, then rolled her eyes at the trepidation in her heart. What was the matter with her? There was nothing to fear from him any more. She was in control of the wheel now. She was his superior. He was a lowly criminal.

Fortunately she was saved from taking further action when his head lolled around on the backrest to confront hers. His eyes opened slowly. For a second they widened in surprise and he immediately moved to sit up. The artlessness of his expression did not last long, however, for he quickly took in his surroundings and the smooth lines of his face tightened. When his gaze met hers again, the windows to his thoughts were heavily guarded. No one was allowed in. Briefly she wondered if it would always be that way. If he would ever learn to trust.

Realizing she was staring Quistis leaned back in her seat and licked her dry lips. She cleared her throat once more before turning away.

"There is something wrong with the engine," she informed him, pushing her hands up beneath her knees. "We are going to have to find a telephone to contact Garden."

Seifer adjusted his position so that both feet rested on the floor of the vehicle. His brow lowered in bewilderment. "What's the problem with it?"

Hating to admit any weaknesses she avoided his gaze and kept her own focussed on the windshield. "It's, ah, difficult to say. Could be a number of things." She waved a hand vaguely in front of her face. "Can't be fixed at the side of the road anyway."

He sent her a strange look, obviously unimpressed by her noncommittal response, and reached for the door handle that sat just above his knee. Seifer didn't know what had come over her but he wasn't about to just sit there and take her word for it. With a grumble of discontent he popped open the door and slid onto the gravel outside.

If there was one thing he had excelled in as a student of Balamb it was his mechanical training. It had meant a full week away from the stifling classrooms and rows of computer terminals. He had jumped at the chance to actually do something, not just study it in a textbook.

When he had the hood lifted he indulged in a litany of curses. Not all remained merely in his thoughts. When was the last time this vehicle had been looked at? He was amazed it had made it this far with such old wiring. It was unlikely the oil had been changed at all in the last decade.

They weren't going anywhere.

Quistis worried the inside of her cheek with her teeth as she stood next to him in front of the rig. From the way his features were twisted she doubted the situation would have an agreeable outcome. He turned to look at her, sneer in place.

"How long was the engine light on?" His tone was incredulous, patronizing.

She instantly leaped to defensive mode. He had always known just how to make her feel callow. "I don't know. The car was running fine. As soon as I noticed it I pulled over." Her eyes narrowed and she stiffly folded her arms.

"Is there something wrong?"

The look he gave her made her feel like she was ten-years-old again. He rolled his eyes in exasperation and gestured with one hand toward the mess that was.

"Can't you see it for yourself? There's engine fluid and oil everywhere. If you were to drive this any further the entire thing could overheat and explode!" In that moment his head jerked back and he swivelled to appraise her with curiosity. "Why do you need me to tell you this?"

The answer promptly dawned on him when she shifted her stance in the fine stones of the road and straightened her shoulders. A barely withheld grin teased about the corners of his mouth and his eyes lightened unexpectedly with enjoyment. He eased himself against the fender of the car and crossed his arms. Cocking his head he regarded her with keen amusement.

"You had no idea, did you?"

Freshly annoyed, she shoved around him to close the hood with a gratifying slam. "Be quiet, Almasy. Get your stuff."

It was useless, she knew, to allow him to rile her up but she couldn't help it. There was something about his smirk that begged her to sweep it off. Violently.

Still chuckling he moved away from the vehicle and stepped closer to the side of the road. "I can't believe there's actually something in this world the Almighty Instructor Trepe knows nothing about." He rolled his neck back around to shoot her a condescending glance. "And you call yourself a SeeD."

Quistis clenched her fists and did her best to control her breathing. In and out. Se concentrated on slowly filling her lungs and exhaling. When she felt the murderous impulse subside she relaxed and returned to normal breathing patterns.

After accumulating her bag from inside the car she closed and locked the door. She slid the keys into a concealed pocket before returning her attention to her charge.

Seifer stood next to the paved highway, his face turned toward approaching vehicles. When a large pick-up truck drew near he stuck out an arm in an age-old signal. The driver, however, paid no heed and roared past, forcing Seifer to take a step back.

Quistis frowned. What the heck did he think he was doing? Under no circumstances were they hitchhiking to Timber. The idea was absurd. Not to mention a direct violation of Operation No. six point three. Disproving scowl in place she slid the carryall over her head so that it rested securely across her chest and against her hip. With gravel crunching beneath her modest heels she walked up to him.

"Ah, what exactly are you trying to pull, Almasy?" She was pleased with the authoritative timbre of her voice. Exactly how a woman in her position should sound.

"I'm not trying to "pull" anything." He lowered his arm once more when another vehicle, this time a jeep, raced by without stopping. He didn't bother to spare her a glance. "What I am doing, Trepe, is getting us off this damn highway." Now he did look at her. His gaze held derision. "Or would you prefer to hang out in the canyon?"

"Of course not. But we can not hitch a ride." If nothing else she would remain firm on that.

"Why?"

She lifted a brow though was not truly surprised at his audacity. Seifer had never respected her. She suffered from no illusion that he would start to now.

"Because it's against Garden policy. Although, I shouldn't have to inform you of that. If you ever want to make SeeD you are going to have to learn to follow orders without question."

At that he gave a purely Almasy-type shrug and turned away.

"Who says I want to make SeeD? Did it ever occur to you that I might have better things to do than towing the Garden line?"

In all actuality it hadn't. To her, life was Garden. She had no idea what she would do if SeeD suddenly became unavailable. The very possibility was staggering. Lost in these troubled thoughts Quistis didn't notice that Seifer had managed to call over a rusted blue lorry until the driver had pulled up a few feet down the road.

"Seifer!" She hissed and snatched at his sleeve. "We are not getting in that truck!" She ground her foot into the stones for good measure. His eyes slid from her irritated expression down to her footwear then back up.

"How far do you think you'll make it in those shoes? I'll end up carrying you all the way there."

The mere humiliation of the notion had her jaw dropping and eyes flashing. "You would not!"

He rolled his eyes. "Uh huh. Look, I don't see that we have any other options. Don't be such a snob, Instructor. You can always have your perfect uniform dry cleaned if you're worried that he has fleas." Seifer added insult to injury.

"I'm not a snob!" Even though she knew he was baiting her, Quistis refused to let him win this round. Her jaw tightened and her fingers shifted to grip his forearm.

"You want to ride in the truck? Fine." Ignoring his mocking smirk she marched toward the waiting vehicle. The back was filled with sacks of what smelled like fertilizer. How quaint. It took all her control to stop her nose from wrinkling.

"But would you quit calling me instructor? It's demeaning." She sent a dazzling smile to the forty-ish man that sat behind the wheel, did her best to ignore the three blackened teeth that were revealed by his answering grin.

"Oh, excuse me, duchess." Seifer snapped open the door for her and bowed sarcastically. "From now on I will address you as what is proper for someone of your esteemed status."

Quistis hefted a foot onto the step of the tall cab before turning her smile on her companion. Only now it was haughty and her voice carried a lofty air.

"I will expect nothing less."

Xu ceased racing proficient fingers across the keyboard of her personal computer when she caught sight of movement from the corner of her left eye. Slim dark eyebrows lifted in exasperation. Her lips curved upward and she shook her head.

"Selphie Tilmitt, stop lurking around the door! The commander is having a private conversation."

Startled, the young woman looked over; her eyes widened in an attempt at total virtuousness. "Lurking? Me? Never! I am shocked and appalled at your insinuation that I could be eavesdropping on the commander's personal time. Horrified that you would think I was capable of such a heinous act. I am simply, um, stretching my legs!" To prove it she grabbed one at the ankle and bent it back behind her.

"See?" Selphie repeated the action with her other leg. "I have a serious medical condition. If I don't do this at least, er, fourteen times a day I may never be able to walk again!" With that she allowed her leg to drop and faced Xu with a solemn expression on her youthful face. "It's quite awful, really. You understand, don't you?"

The other woman leaned back on her desk chair and crossed her arms. At her stern frown Selphie tried to up the ante with a sweet smile. Xu let out a sigh.

"I don't believe you, Tilmitt."

Selphie lowered her eyes to the floor and linked her arms behind her back, prepared for a lecture. Her expression was sheepish.

"Would you believe I was, um, examining the new paint job on the walls?"

"After all this time have I taught you nothing? That door is a mix of wood and concrete. Terrible acoustics." Xu slanted forward across her desk to flip the intercom button to on. But before she did she flashed the younger girl a wicked grin, dark eyes sparkling. "If you want to get your facts straight you've got to use modern technology."

Their gazes locked and Selphie grinned back. "Duh! What was I thinking?"

She hurried over to the desk and closed her mouth so as not to make a peep when Xu pushed the catch. Her ears pricked up when a soft soprano glided through the small speaker.

The voice belonged to one Rinoa Heartily, the current subject of Selphie's insatiable curiosity.

"When will Garden be returning to Timber?" she was asking. The inflection on the question rang of hope. "By next week?"

Inside the office Squall stood awkwardly in front of the worn leather couch that his, well whom one could call his girlfriend, currently perched on. Her small frame looked lost in the deep, brown material and her large eyes gazed up at him in an almost childlike manner. She barely appeared a day over sixteen though her eighteenth birthday was quickly approaching.

"I don't know Rinoa, it's too early to say." He ran a hand through the tousled hair that fell over one eye. "After what happened today it could be a few months at best."

"A few months?" If possible her eyes seemed to widen even further. "But Squall, you promised the city would be liberated by then!"

Because he had never been able to withstand the power of her gaze, especially the pleading one she wore now, he shifted his eyes to a painting on the wall. It was of a sailboat. All blue and red and gold as it drifted in perfect bliss over the rolling waves of the sea. His eyes traced the tall line of the mast and wondered if that boat had ever been blown through more tempestuous waters.

"I know what I said." His voice was strained. "But we lost three SeeDs today. Garden cannot send anymore until the investigation into the bombing is complete. I'm sorry."

Rinoa rested back against the plush leather and wrapped her arms around her body. She focussed her attention on the back of his head. "But what about the citizens? They're all in danger too."

Squall allowed himself to indulge in a little sigh. His eyes were now trained on the solid black picture frame. "They are not Garden's responsibility. You know that, Rinoa."

A painful silence spread between them, building up the wall that she had worked with tooth and nail to tear down. Miserably she wondered if she had the strength to do it again. Her hands released her sides and one arm reached up to wind several locks of hair around her fingers. The other twisted in the chain at her throat.

"But they are my responsibility," she said in a small voice. Suddenly she sat up, slim shoulders thrust back. A stubborn look of courage passed over her delicate features.

"I'm going to help them." Her tone was clear, strong. "If you'll fly me back I'll try to investigate it myself. Since I'm not a SeeD you won't be responsible for my actions, right?"

He swung around at that, brows lowered. She was relieved to see his expression was coloured with concern. Finally, some sort of emotion.

"No." How could she suggest such a thing? "We are too far out to alter course now. You will just have to be patient."

His words were hurtful but she knew they were not meant to be. She had seen that alarm in his eyes, had she not? She was desperate enough to grasp at anything.

"All right." Rinoa nodded and gave him a small smile to show she understood. "I'll just go contact Zone to let him know what's up."

When she started to rise, Squall took a step forward. He opened his mouth to speak but faltered when the right words did not come to him right away.

"Maybe that isn't such a good a idea."

Perplexed Rinoa scrunched up her face. "Why not? The Owls deserve to know what's going on."

He shifted his weight from one hip to the other. "Garden business is strictly confidential."

She took a moment to take in his words. Realization draped over her and she leapt to her feet. Her typically pale cheeks were now blushed with vehemence. Hurt glinted off the shining of her irises.

"You think they are to blame for the bombing, don't you?" Rinoa stamped her foot on the dull carpeting in a tantrum. "How could you?"

He stared back at the raging female in front of him with impassivity. "I just don't think we should rule out any suspects yet."

"The Timber Owls are not suspects! Neither are any other freedom groups!" She wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg him to stop looking at her like that. As if all they had ever shared had meant nothing to him. Like she was no more than a wanton little girl daring to ask her lord for aid. "They are not some kind of terrorist faction."

They are my friends, she wanted to tell him. The only people who have ever viewed me as an equal. The only ones who have ever made me feel that I belonged. How could he tear all that down?

Despising himself but convinced he was right, Squall bequeathed her with a patient, but doubtful curve of his brow.

"Then what would you call what we did on the train?"

He watched as the fight went out of her lithe figure and her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. He forced himself not to cringe as one slid unchecked down a glossy cheek. It was what he deserved. Why did she always seem to turn him into some kind of bastard?

Ice in his veins. The words of a former instructor uttered so long ago resounded in his head with more force than ever. To this day he doubted said instructor was even aware he had been listening in the silent hall. He doubted the man even recalled articulating them. Squall would never forget. Not for the first time he questioned whether the words were false.

"You're wrong," she whispered, turning her head and hiding her face behind a screen of hair. "And I'll prove it to you. Somehow."

As he watched her run from the room he allowed his cover to fall. Ice in his veins; frost in his heart. If that were true why did he feel like someone had just punched him in the stomach?

He listened as the shrill cry of Selphie called out for Rinoa to wait and spun on his heel when the candid gaze of Xu pierced through the open door. He couldn't meet her gaze.

He had things to do.