Chapter 4

It was a spectacular ceremony. Exquisitely grand yet warm. The backdrop being a scenic sunset adding to the drama was amazingly picturesque, leaving the unattached group of females sighing in dreamy awe and the males, well; they're still men whom most of them had just wanted to get the droning service over and on with the food. But it was doubtless the perfect wedding all girls had dreamed of. Of course, no one had expected the newly wed couple to burst out laughing right after the minister had announced, "You may kiss the bride." Even when their lips touched, their shoulders were still shaking with mirth. Maybe there was some silent hidden humor that passed between Vedic and Ellone unknown to everyone. But nonetheless, the momentous occasion was filled with laughter all through the night as it drifted by with the moon.

Amidst all the dancing, the casual flirtations and heavy drinking, Quistis found herself sitting alone at a round table with a single lit candle floating at the center. The lights in the grand ballroom had been dimmed when the dance began, and she somehow found it…relieving. There was just something about the semi-darkness that gave her a sense of security. She was thankful for the blanket of shadow that engulfed her corner that somehow provided her the comfort not even fifty guests in the room could offer. Maybe it's because unknown to those who are enjoying the evening, she was keeping a silent observation of their activities.

In the other end of the room, she spotted Ellone, whom had changed from her lovely and no doubt expensive, wedding dress, into a flattering cream-colored evening outfit, handing out memorabilia's as she thanked the guests for their presence. It was one of those crystalline swans that kissed at the beaks to form a heart on a fiberglass base, which, she estimated, must have cost the Caraways and Laguna a fortune. Quistis studied her graceful movements as she reached in the basket and distributed the miniature mementos when every time she'd speak to each person, her face would shine in luminous appreciation. She was radiant, and absolutely and blissfully happy. Vedic on the other hand, she noticed, was speaking to President Loire, but his eyes were focused on his bride, all the while wearing a wide goofy smile on his face, but Laguna didn't seem to notice, as he went on and distracted himself with his own monologue. She really is happy for Sis. It was decidedly a perfect match. But who could've guessed?

As celebrations go, it won't be the same without Angelo, running around and chasing a guest or two. He has been sporadic ever since the music began and the food was served, probably expecting one of the visitors to feed him under their tables. She released a muffled laugh when the dog's leash was caught under Zell's foot, who was dancing rather comically, but he doesn't seem to thinks so. Angelo stopped for a momentary scratch behind the ears when Zell accidentally stepped on his strap. When the dog broke into a sprinting run, Zell found himself sitting on his bottom and cursing the "bloody canine of uncertain breed". She didn't know who deserved her pity more; Zell, who was peevishly embarrassed in the middle of a dancing circle, or the dog, whose fate will probably end up on the grill of the Balamb Garden kitchen.

After that brief display of humorous entertainment, her gaze traveled towards a nearby window, just beyond the next table. It gave her half a view of the balcony outside. But before she was prompted to rise and get a tang of a little fresh air, she noticed two figures moving in the balcony. They made the balconies available for smoking after all, but she didn't want to get a whiff nicotine. But from what she could discern, the only occupant was a couple, who were obviously not smoking, but rather slow dancing. They look quite immersed in their own tranquility, oblivious to the raucous chatter combined with boisterous laughter from inside. Quistis felt as if she was intruding on their privacy, but she was involuntarily drawn to the enchantment that surrounded them. It was as if they were the only ones in Deling, without a care in the world, dancing to the very faint moonlight music that filtered out into the terrace. Maybe there will be another wedding planned soon. For them. Another ghastly event, similar to this one that would make her feel as miserable as she is at the moment. As she delved deeper into it, Quistis was struck with a disgusting pang of jealousy, and found herself hopelessly longing for something similar to happen with her someday. She was going to be sick. Appalled with her reaction, she tore her eyes away from Squall and Rinoa. She needed a drink.

Something strong perhaps.

Her voice warmed him like honey and drowned him like liquor. Wait, did he just compare her voice to some sort of cough syrup? He shook his head. They were alone, but not completely though. Inside, were the guests who danced and imbibed a little too much are still able to catch sight of them. Balconies like these are never really private. And he thought they could steal away without anyone noticing. It was his idea to break away from the celebration and out to the balcony, but it seems cities, such as Deling, could never really make the stars available for viewing.

He knew he wasn't really listening as she spoke because he was lost in his own reverie. But he can hear her voice even if as it caressed him like velvet, and lazily thought how it doesn't compare to the merest of her touches. Even the chilly breeze that fanned against him didn't alleviate the heat he began to feel. In nights like this, especially this night, with her dressed as she is, although he'd probably murder whoever designed the cut, other objectives came to mind besides hiding in the balcony, which was more or less an inadequate escape. As the images came he found himself lost. He envisioned himself sliding her gown slowly from her shoulders, tracing his fingertip along her collarbone and every curve of her body and she would beg for him to touch her more. Further down perhaps. He gave his head a mild shake. He couldn't possibly 'enlighten' that vision there. There must be somewhere in the bloody mansion that isn't currently occupied where they could –

"Earth to Squall, are you listening to me?"

He looked at her. Rinoa tilted her face towards him and raised an indignant brow. She looked very serious and a bit annoyed.

"Were you?" She slightly pushed herself from him.

He blinked. Twice.

"Listening to me?"

"Oh." He smirked. "No."

She rolled her eyes in irritation but didn't bother to reprimand him for his inattentiveness. "Where were you anyway?"

"I'll tell you later. What were you saying?"

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I was just saying that even though how expensive this occasion was, it was all very worth it. I'm very pleased everyone's enjoying the night."

"That's nice, but I know something else that would please you," he said.

"Oh?"

"Yes, even more."

"Really…"

He wound an arm around her waist and pulled her even closer, while his other hand snaked its way at the base of her head as his fingertips began a stroking motion. With a very fiendish smile, he nudged her chin up until the tips of their noses touched. "I assume they still keep your bedroom here in the mansion intact?" He whispered.

"Squall! How much did you drink?" She asked incredulously. She was caught of guard by his audacity. Although she's aware he's been bold in their intimate exchanges before, but it's not always that he would behave this...naughty. Especially not when there's a huge gathering around. And yet, that's exactly what he's doing. She stared into his eyes and found them smoldering.

"Not much. I smelled your scent and that was enough for any man to be intoxicated." He could have told her he indulged a bit more than usual, but she'd only suspect his behavior is under the influence of alcohol. Actually, he's more lucid than ever. The corner of his mouth lifted into a mischievous smile.

"What have you been reading? Have you been talking to Irvine?" She asked, unbelievably hearing the words pouring from his mouth.

He blinked again. He began to wonder if he'd just actually said one of Irvine's lines. "No, have you?"

"Not lately." She replied.

"Good, because he isn't included in any of my plans."

"Irvine would be disappointed" She laughed.

"Him and the rest of Galbadia." He took hold of her wrist as he began to lead her back inside the ballroom. "Now where's your bedroom?"

"Now?" She stopped short before they reached the door.

"Unless you want an audience."

"You wouldn't!" She exclaimed, incredulity evident on her face as he pulled her back inside the ballroom.

"Exactly. That's why we need a room." This guy was dead serious.

"Shush. Not so loud." She poked him in the side lightheartedly as she stepped in front of him. Before they made it through the door, Squall managed to grab a bottle of champagne and together, they disappeared discreetly from the rest of the celebration.

Seifer woke up the next morning. His shoulders felt as if it was lifting stone. Who could have thought someone's head could be this heavy? It was his head, pounding like the very devil after all. He tried to shift on his side but found it equally painful. He tried to blink away the blurred images that insisted on doubling. Slowly, he raised his head and forced his torso to follow suit. He must have hit the floor hard because his back felt battered. His vision was still a bit hazy, but Seifer managed to make out a few specks of colors circling over him. Where the hell was he anyway?

Blinking a bit rapidly, his surroundings finally materialized before him. He's definitely sitting outside. As soon as he regained full consciousness, Seifer tried to remember the event of the night before. What little memory of what happened drifted back slowly, but when he tried to recall how on earth he could have been felled and outsmarted by two bumbling idiots, he was still dumbfounded. He cursed at himself for being so susceptible to their attacks. He did use to have authority over them, and it was more bruise to his pride than to his backside. His first instinct was to grasp Hyperion and hunt those two clowns down. He was surprised they left him alive, considering how much he'd also like to kick himself right now. But then again, those two couldn't even kill a snake even if it strikes them in the eye.

Once the painstaking process of getting himself onto his feet was complete, Seifer deduced, along with his gun-blade, that he was thrown out of the inn. Actually, from where he is standing, out of the city. He dusted his rear and felt for bruises. He couldn't really blame the innkeeper, knowing as much as he, that he'd hate someone like himself to be his customer, and besides that, his payment of two gils had already expired. He did pay for one night only. But cast outside the city? Was he even allowed to do that?

He could only guess the authorities found him lying on the streets, believing him to be inebriated, and tossed him out. Deling should have a big slogan at the entrance saying, "Welcome to Deling. We've got booze but no drunkards," with a picture of Caraway smiling with two thumbs up. Funny how that illustration seems very appropriate.

Obviously, now that he realized it, coming here was a mistake, but then again, he did think that Deling was an acceptable kind of town. But he'd rather burn his hair than go back to a place where he's not wanted. A man's pride could only endure so much. He held his head high, pointed his chin up and braced his shoulders, even if it hurts a little, collected his pride as well. Seemingly enough, he recognized a trail made on the dirt that was his, scattered and apparently, sullied. He grunted in annoyance. Who ever tossed him out must've had fun scattering his few measly belongings.

It was puzzling to think how anyone can exact vengeance so mildly, given that Biggs, along with Wedge, despised him to the core, weren't even bothered to take any of his property. Not that anything he has, with the exception of Hyperion, which he began to wonder where, was something of value to anyone. But if they really meant revenge, then the least they could've done was make his life even just little bit more miserable. Seifer sniggered. Well, he couldn't be more thankful for dumb criminals.

He began the task of collecting his possessions, plucking them from the ground and stuffing them in his duffel bag, but when he turned his gaze up, he spotted his gun-blade case six meters away. It took all his self-restraint not to drop everything and run. For one rigid moment, his breath was caught in his throat. Something bitter scratched at the back of his tongue and at the same time compelled him to scream. It was a moment in his life he never thought he'd suspect, but it was there as much as he hated to admit it. As chilly as the morning breeze was, his forehead managed to break a sweat. It was suddenly very difficult for him to swallow. There seem to have a lump in his throat the size of a cue ball.

Please be there.

The lid was closed, he noticed. His legs began to move listlessly towards it. His steps drew closer and he dreaded every inch. As he approached the encasement, glinting in the first rays of morning, the grip in his stomach grew tighter.

Oh God, please be there.

By the time he reached the black case, a vein jumped in his neck as he slowly unlocked and lifted the lid. The breath he didn't realize he was holding escaped in a heave.

There lay his most prized possession, his partner, and his protector, untarnished and intact. He found himself breathing again, although a bit uneven. But it was in those few seconds, when Seifer was struck with the truth of his own vulnerability, something that was kept hidden in the far corners of his consciousness but wouldn't allow it to surface. Until now.

It was that sickening sensation of helplessness. Seifer was disgusted to even think about it, but it took every ounce of his brainpower to push it back in the far recesses of his psyche. He hated it. A man such as he should have more strength and resilience than just a piece of metal to survive on. But that's what he has been for the past five years. Hyperion was the symbol of his dependence, his fragility. It was an appalling spectacle for someone to see that a man like him could be brought down on his knees when devoid of the scrap of metal that was his means for survival. Only the strong lasts they say, but for someone independent, he has to be strong for himself alone. It was one of the reasons he distanced himself from people that no matter what the situation was; it was only himself he can depend on. But it was at that moment, when he realized, he was wrong. It was the gun-blade all along. Hyperion had kept him alive. He probably couldn't have gotten this far or lived this long without it. It was the weapon, an extension of his arm that guarded his existence, and earned him a living. It was a revolting thought and he despised it. He refused to believe himself the inferior. It was he who owns Hyperion, and he alone can maneuver its distinguished attacks. What is a weapon good for without the skill of the man who wields it? Hyperion just made it easier for him. Nothing would have been different. But that sickening sensation just minutes ago nagged at him like a blood blister.

He snapped the lid shut, and forced his concentration on his next agenda. It wouldn't do him any good to immerse his thoughts too much on his feelings. There are more pressing matters that needs to be dealt with. For example…Where to now? It's highly unreasonable to turn around and head back to Deling, because he certainly wouldn't want to be in a city where he is definitely unwanted. For crying out loud, he didn't even have a chance to take a bath, let alone eat anything at all. Which was his plan before he was attacked. Attacked! He never even imagined himself being attacked. Poor fellow just made a death wish if he attempts to do so. His stomach growled. God, he's hungry.

Although the prospect of travelling again seemed too daunting, it isn't quite difficult to find a place where he's more likely to feel comfortable without spending a lot of money. Back to Timber he suppose. It isn't so odd to find himself more compatible with gutter towns than in a sophisticated glitter of big cities. Maybe that's why he avoided Esthar like the plague. Or for other reasons that he's too infamous in that part of the globe anyway.

Seifer glanced around one last time and satisfied when he didn't find anything else scattered that was his. He braced himself for another aching train ride and stepped out of the shadows of the city walls. But as soon as his foot marched in front the other, that was when he saw it. It was hidden from his view before, but now, it loomed before him as if it was a dragon rising from the flames. He dropped his bag, and then his jaw.

So this is the Ragnarok in all its glory.

That means Puberty Boy and, or Company are here. Either that or this is a duplicate make of the ship. He twisted his head around, looking for any signs of their presence. It doesn't seem that they are anywhere around. His attention returned to the ship. Maybe they are still inside. But then, they should have gotten off already, given that he didn't hear the ship land, and it's possible that it's been sitting here for quite a while. Or since last night, in view of the fact that he didn't find any footprints, aside from his own, on the dirt.

He threw caution in the air, picked up his bag and approached the Ragnarok to study it further. He's never really seen it in close proximity and Seifer had to admit that it made a striking impression, emblazoned by the rising sun behind. It really was a magnificent sight. Any man with a fascination for a nice piece of appliance would sure be more than awestruck. He's not that kind of man though, but he can recognize fine engineering if he sees one. He ran a free hand along its furnished planes as his reflection twisted on its curves.

"Aren't you a nice little package?" He whispered, not really expecting an answer from the aircraft, but nonetheless began to wonder if it's designed to talk back. It didn't.

He circled around its perimeters and admired its brilliant craftsmanship. He imagined himself scratching his insignia, the Hyperion cross, with "Seifer was here" on the paint, but thought against it since he won't be able to witness the looks on their faces if ever Squall and friends might happen to see the defacement. Besides, he's outgrown those childish whimsies, even if it amused him a little to irritate Puberty Boy.

He didn't much want to see him. Heck, he didn't much want to see any of them. Just when he was about to turn around and leave for Timber, it was too late for him to avoid the hatch which had suddenly burst open, so quickly, only to hit him in the back of the head. Seifer only had the chance to hear a woman screaming in panic before he slowly fell into unconsciousness. Again.

"Oh God! Oh God! I just I killed somebody!" She didn't mean to kick the door open in frustration only to knock somebody out cold. Hell, she didn't even know somebody was out there until she heard the man grunt. Is she being punished for last night?

"I'm so sorry! God, very, very sorry!" She scurried, almost half ran, towards her accidental victim to make sure she didn't injure him more than just a bump in the head. Quistis reached for his shoulders as she slowly turned him over as shock crossed her features in swift alacrity.

"Seifer? Is that you?" Either that or an older twin. Of course he didn't utter a response to confirm his identity. She did knock him out cold after all. What the heck is she going to do? And what on earth was he doing under the Ragnarok in the first place? She looked around nervously, looking for any witnesses, passersby, anybody.

Nobody.

There were only a few options. Either she drag the man, who was almost twice her size, in an inn in Deling, or she could wait for him to come around and drag himself there instead, which perhaps would take hours. Or maybe she could just leave him there and go back to the hotel, as he lie in a heap until her friends would find him eventually. Of course she'd feign ignorance about his presence. But naturally, they'd wonder why he had chosen the shade of the Ragnarok to sleep under in the middle of the afternoon. She looked at him, then towards the main gates of Deling, then back at him again. Oh, drat!

Author's Note: I'm terribly sorry everyone. I know I haven't updated for such a very long time. I have been computerless for the past four months or so. But I do hope you've just enjoyed reading the latest chapter. Don't worry, I'm quite finished with the next chapter and will be uploaded soon. I do hope I'll get some feedbacks on this. Once again, I'm truly very sorry about the ultimate, major delay.