Chapter 5

The morning drifted into early afternoon as the sun began to beat into high temperature, and Seifer still has not regained consciousness. Of all the things she could possibly be doing at the moment, for example having brunch with the elite society of Deling, but rather Quisits found herself in an odd circumstance, dragging his limp body halfway inside the Ragnarok while she recalled last night's occurrence.

She remembered retiring early from the party as she gave her best regards to the bride and groom. She wasn't sorely missed really, given that on her way out, everyone had "someone" for company. Immediately as predicted, she sensed illness on its way to her stomach. It didn't take long for her to catch sight of Squall and…errhm, heading upstairs with a bottle of champagne in tow. Only a grat wouldn't have a clue as to what they were up to. She wondered if those two knew the meaning of the word, subtlety.

As disgusting as she thought their behavior was, Quistis certainly proved that they are not the only people on this planet who can have a full bottle of champagne and have a blast at the same time. By God, she did that even without a partner. And with all the cunning and skill, polished in the education of Garden training, Quisits acquired herself a cold, unopened bottle of bubbly and retreated to the sanctuary of the Ragnarok to waste away in alcohol-ville.

This morning, she woke up, groggy and cranky. It was a little too bad that there weren't anyone around she could snap at. But then again, it would have been better if nobody saw her in her current state of irritability. Quistis hadn't really indulged herself in spirits before, but as she suffered from the aftermath, she decided she wouldn't likely to do so again.

Her hand was clutching the empty bottle, the obvious cause of her present condition, while the other reached to massage her temple, fighting the throb from reaching her eyes. She tossed the bottle aside, and somewhat cursed the Shumis for making such a concoction, although aware that she was entirely responsible. Well, make that irresponsible, she reminded herself.

She staggered her way around the Ragnarok, barefoot, looking for her shoes. The blasted shoes, if the kind she wore should be called as such, ought to be burned to spare women the pain of sore feet. Only if Selphie hadn't insisted on paying for them she would have burned them to a crisp already. When she couldn't locate either shoe, she grew frustrated and kicked the hatch a bit more fiercely than estimated. It was a little too late to realize that someone was present, when that someone was already knocked flat into the ground.

And here she was, hauling that someone, who happened to be a former student of the past, inside the shelter of the Ragnarok from the angry sun. She knew it really wasn't reason enough for her to have rendered him unconscious, but dear God did he stink. She steered her nose away from him, thinking that she would need to wash her hands clean since she was pulling him via armpits. Noticing how his shirt was glued to his skin with sweat and his hair in oily clumps, she realized how much this guy needed a bath. Badly.

It was strange that she should think of his hygiene, when she needs to worry about returning to Deling without having to leave Seifer should he not recuperate. That is, if he recuperates. Among other things, she was unsure of the manner she was supposed to regard him. After all, she hadn't seen nor heard from and of him for nearly five years, since the Ultimecia episode, and that was a long enough time to have estranged Seifer to her. And probably vice versa. Seifer was a thorn on the side; yes, that was how she remembered him as. A prickly little memory that later grew insignificant. But looking at him now, he's nothing more than just a stranger. He's still Seifer by name and face, but everything else about him is foreign.

And that's how he's going to remain to her. Foreign. Because as soon as she deposited him on the nearest chair when they reached the cockpit, she headed straight for the radio. She dialed the necessary connection and waited for a response.

No sooner a chirpy voice rang from the speakers.

"Ragnarok?" It was Selphie. She always kept the receiver, the device that can order Ragnarok about, close at hand.

"Selphie! It's Quistis. Where are you?"

"We're at the hotel lobby. What are you doing in there?"

Sweat began to break out. "Actually, I left my…uh lens container you see. I couldn't possibly go to bed leaving it in a glass of water without somebody accidentally drinking it. So, I thought I'd go back for it, then I thought I'd as well spend the night here instead." Lens container her foot, indeed. She doubt Selphie would actually buy her story. It's more than common knowledge that Quistis is the most highly systematic person in Garden, and if she is to lose or leave something behind it certainly deserves a tight brow knitter. But it was a long shot, if Selphie happens to be too smashed to even care.

"Oh sure. Lens container. Right. Like I'd really buy that. Come on we all know why you're calling. And I'm not hanging up unless you admit." Obviously, she isn't.

Quistis was scared for a moment when she detected smugness in her tone. Dear God, does she know she killed Seifer? Well, not killed really, but almost. What she really wants is a car brought over so she could drop Seifer at the nearest Deling inn and have a decent lunch. She prayed, dearly prayed that Selphie wouldn't pry further. What to say? What to say?

"I just need a cab brought around."

"No biggie. But tell me, you're bringing back more than you bargained for, that's why you need a car. Am I right?"

Dear Hyne! She couldn't have known!

"Selphie, listen to me, you mustn't tell anyone."

"Quisty, just a few of us knows. And you-know-who was seen too."

"Who's I know who?"

"Don't act like you don't know, you were there. He was seen. God knows what he was doing."

Oh Hyne! Seifer was seen? When? What did he do? This is insane. How could they know? Nobody was around. Nobody! She looked everywhere. Or she thought she did. She glanced at his slackened form and noticed a deep cut, no doubt she caused, open just above his brow. She wished she knew what he was doing outside the Ragnarok before she grounded him.

"I thought I could get away." She muttered more to herself than to Selphie. She kept her nerves in check. How guilty did she sound?

"But you didn't." Finally, Selphie took pity on her. "Look, everybody deserves a good knocker once in a while. I can't blame you. And in a way, he deserved it too." It was surprising to hear such nonchalance in that single statement.

What is she saying? Does Selphie think she really hate Seifer that much? Is that how everyone feels towards this…this fallen "knight"? (Considering of course, that she's the one who felled him earlier). Among her friends, Zell might still have reasonable grounds to hold a grudge against him, Seifer did make his childhood rather difficult, but Selphie? Well, the attack on Trabia does speak for itself. Maybe she's the only one who feels a little remorse towards this tragic figure of a man. Seifer is no more to her than just a part of a memory. A mere stranger. She would feel the same remorse if she knocked out a fellow SeeD, a student, a fisherman in FH, anyone!

"Selphie…it's not his fault, you know that."

"It's not really a fault, if you know what I mean. Any guy will be tempted enough to pull a little romance when there's a bottle of bubbly free for the taking, and not to mention a room at Deling Mansion. I still can't imagine Squall as a smooth talking charmer. Irvine and Zell are having a field day over it."

Squall? Goodness, Selphie was talking about last night! All along they were talking about two completely different issues. And here she was, on the verge of actually mentioning Seifer. Thank the gods Selphie mistook her "his" for Squall. That was a relief. A very good relief indeed.

"Yes…imagine that." It was all she could say, if not a little too nervously.

"Alright, I'll call a cab to send over, since I know you've got a heavy hangover to bring with. We did find out you somehow got yourself a bottle. And don't deny it, because there was a bottle count this morning and you were missing in action."

She let out a small sigh of defeat. "A lesson learned is a weapon earned."

"Good of you to realize. So I'll see you later?"

"Yes. Later, Selph." And their conversation ended.

As if coming home from a mission, she landed heavily on a seat adjacent to Seifer.

That whole exchange with Selphie spooked her a little, but it seems Seifer will be out of her hair soon and she's going to have a nice big lunch after all. Her head was still battered by that god-awful drink, but it wasn't so much that her judgment was affected. But if her common sense and good judgement was still in function, then why is it that she found herself unable to look away from the sleeping golden Adonis across from her?

"Adonis my a-" Quistis caught herself instantly. She's not one to reduce herself, under any circumstance, to utter an unpleasant form of vocabulary. She is an instructor after all. And she was about to talk to herself, again! She swore off alcoholic beverages forever.

Quistis almost forgot about the cut she'd inflicted on him. And to think that she was staring at him for a while she didn't even realize it was still there. As quickly as she remembered, she sprung to her feet and looked at it more closely. Aside from the bruising that formed around, it wasn't so bad, she thought, that it needed stitching. She has to charge it to experience that she'd seen worse cases. This one didn't even warrant a cringing. With dutiful care, she made use of an emergency kit close by, to tend to his wound. She sniffed the vial and detected a hint of alcohol. Definitely a disinfectant, she thought. She carefully dabbed a small portion of it on the cut with her fingertip and she could almost swear she saw the corners of his mouth twitch a little. The sting must have reached him through his unconsciousness. It should be a good sign that his senses are still running. But by the time he would wake up, he won't even know who caused him the injury. And so the term "don't even know what hit you" can be applied. Oh sure, he'll remember being hit, but he wouldn't likely suspect it was her. Would he? And even if he might, the moment he realizes it, she's long gone from Deling and its doubtful he'd pursue her. She did, after all, look after his wound, and the patch of bandage on his forehead to prove it, that absently says an apologetic recompense. She put away the small box of first aid kit back to its compartment and returned to her seat across Seifer.

This was one situation she didn't picture herself in; playing nurse to one of the most bull-headed people she's encountered, but this time, the injury was caused by her, not by himself. She reminded herself that this Seifer might not be the same boy who usually gets himself in a spot, and to compare him to the Seifer of the past would be unjustified. Just one look at him, and she could tell that he's become a man.

A large man. A very good looking man at that. Anybody who isn't blind can see. At first glance, he was a far stretch from the Seifer she vaguely remembered because his once smooth and youthful features were now replaced by the hard and rough planes by time. Gone were the mischievous glint at the corners of his eyes and the playful lift at the curve of his mouth. He just suddenly looked haggard, so tired. It was as if he grew older more rapidly than his age. Or than her, considering she has a few months on him.

But why, for heaven's sake, does she find him so damn attractive now? Oh, just great. Is it possible that the stupid champagne was kicking in again? It was a good thing she decided to drown in alcohol in the safe confines of the Ragnarok otherwise she would've granted a kiss to any besotted fool at the party last night.

A kiss.

Hyne, how long ago did she have one of those? She could barely remember her first, which was also her last, let alone actually remembering how to kiss at all. It's that damned wedding, she told herself. The kind of occasions single women should try to avoid. It makes one hope for somebody to kiss too.

Hold on. She's Quistis Trepe. Levelheaded and rational. She has more important duties than wait for someone to kiss or have someone kiss her. It was all nonsense. She can damn well kiss anyone she pleased at anytime she wants anyway. Pining for romance she can never have will only make her look even older than Seifer.

Her eyes were suddenly fixed on him.

Seifer.

She can kiss anyone she wants.

At anytime.

This is insane! What in blazes was she thinking? Just because he's conveniently unconscious doesn't mean she can take advantage of the poor sod. It's not going to happen, her mind screamed. A woman of her station just doesn't act like some shameless ninny. Even if there weren't anyone around, she would still know what she had done.

She's the only one who'll know.

Seifer won't.

And this might be the only chance she'll get in a lifetime. Her life, being that in Balamb doesn't guarantee these kinds of opportunities. She knows everyone who comes in and out of Garden, hardly any stranger. And Seifer is a stranger she'll never likely see again. Nor he would her.

The perfect crime.

Oh pooh! Kissing is hardly a crime. And if it is, there are hardly any witnesses. What's one kiss? A peck on his closed mouth, just to know how it would feel like, since she can't remember anyway. Besides, he's not so very hard to look at. It would be as if she'd kiss his 'boo-boo' away like granted to any child who stumbled. Yes, that would be the correct equivalence.

Quistis silently rose from her seat and cautiously moved towards him. Hyne, was she nervous. There was no mission she's ever tackled that she felt more compelled to run from. She stepped at a snail's pace as if fearful that Seifer might suddenly jump out of his seat.

He didn't. Seifer was still sleeping like the dead. Was that a snore? If it was, she ignored it. Quistis leaned in closer and her breath was shot out of her. It didn't take longer than a second for her to notice how his lips were slightly parted in a charming queue and that his lashes, though unusually long for a man, but not on him, fanned out against his cheeks. It was hard to believe that anyone this beautiful can possibly exist. Even more unbelievable was that she actually think so. Surprisingly, her head moved of its own accord, and her lids suddenly felt heavy. It was as if there was a strong magnetic force coming from Seifer that drew every part of her down to him. He was practically giving off heat.

Quistis had no control over her movements as her head leaned forward. She felt as if some higher power had entered her form and caused her to tip her head closer. Sooner than she'd care to realize, her lips came into contact with his. And whatever enchanting force that had taken over her was gone and all that was left was her, because she was unaware of everything else but his lips. It was firm. And unbelievably warm. With her lips still on his, her hand had mindlessly traveled to his cheeks and felt the rough bristles of stubble underneath her fingertips.

And her lips felt his tongue.

Quistis nearly jumped out of her skin and leaped away from Seifer quicker than the lightning she half expected to strike her then and there. Thankfully, the seat was still behind her to break her fall.

What on earth was that? She could have sworn that his tongue had darted out of his mouth. Hyne, was he awake? Was Seifer playing dead? If it was possible for someone to die of mortification, then surely she'd be the first to prove that theory. Oh Hyne! How shameless does he think of her now? Seifer must be silently laughing at her in his mind's eye.

She cowered in her seat, feeling more threatened by a motionless Seifer, than the devil himself. Quistis craned her neck and studied him closely. He certainly looks more unconscious than a rock. But she could have sworn his tongue slid out of his mouth!

"Seifer?" She squeaked. God, did her voice sound small. If he happens to answer, then she'd surely make herself ready for suicide. She hadn't felt more foolish in all her life than Zell would care to admit about his dancing.

Quisitis almost sighed with relief when it seemed like an eternity of silence, and then, unexpectedly Seifer made a response.

He snored.

Author's Note: I sincerely apologize for the major delay. Although I have a fairly good excuse which is; I did not have any sort of internet connection for a while. Chapter Six will follow shortly. I promise, within the end of this week. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll accept any form of feedbacks, may it be a complimenting review or a flame. Thank you for your usual kind patience. - Caterchipillar