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REM Memories
Every one of us has nightmares, the counselor was saying, tapping a metal pointer against his thigh. Being mercenaries, you will of course have nightmares of a different and more potent sort than the average person. Now, there is a considerable amount of speculation as to what nightmares are, how they originate, what they mean... all of this is inconsequential. Over the next few days, my job is to teach you methods of coping and controlling your nightmares so that they need not run the risk of encroaching upon your personal or professional lives."
If there was one thing Zell took away from the seminar, it was not to fall asleep during a seminar about sleep. The speaker might just make an example out of you.
That was probably why he had woken up screaming as the Pain spell--not really painful, except for the poison effect--flooded his unconscious brain with nightmare. The counselor cast an Esuna immediately, as a matter of course rather than a matter of concern. And that was when he woke up--really woke up. There was something impressive about the way they took the example--soberly, not laughing as he would have expected or maybe even done.
The counselor made a smooth segue into the area of paramagic affecting the brain, but he wasn't listening. The last vestiges of the nightmare were fading from his mind, but he was still quaking.
"The unconscious is a frightening thing," the counselor reassured. "No-one quite knows, at any given time, what's going on or how it will affect the conscious processes. Things affect your unconscious every moment of every day, but your conscious is in control most of the time. However, when you go to sleep, the conscious is largely disabled, and the subconscious takes control--functioning in utterly the same as it does during one's waking hours, except for the fact that it is in control. The same things will affect the subconscious in the same way, as shown by that Pain spell there...."
He'd never really noticed what happened when he was Pained. Sure, he knew he felt sick for a moment, but he chalked that up to the poison.
It was a nasty trick for the counselor to play and he probably knew it, too. There was nothing like learning you absolutely could not trust someone to make your day really suck.
Quistis gave him a knowing look. "Well, you shouldn't have fallen asleep," she said reasonably. "You should have known better, with that injury of yours."
Yeah, he probably should have. But at least the mission was still on, right? He hadn't screwed up too badly.
Most SeeD missions had three or fewer SeeDs assigned....
"Thomas Riles will be the Team Leader. Zell Dincht, you will fill the mission role of mechanics specialist. Siobhan Sierra, you will be this mission's computer expert. Jeshua Drake, you will be the contingency officer. After you take care of your business in South Kay, you're to rendezvous with the local Marshal ship Kobayashi Maru. It will take you north to Juska, where you'll meet up with SeeD Drake. If all goes well, it shouldn't take you more than four days. Good luck, team."
He didn't remember Drake at all.
The warehouse wasn't an ideal place to spend the night, but it was the safest spot they could find--and it was nearby, too, which was good considering the headache Zell was developing. Tanker was railing on him for something or other, but he wasn't focusing on anything except not letting the pain nauseate him. Finally Siobhan noticed and... did... something.
He thought.
He didn't think he liked the Desperados.
They hit him twice at least. Once on the temple and once more, harder, at the base of his skull. That was what really got it. Of all the possible people, it was Tanker who rescued him that time--maybe whatever he said, he was still a SeeD at heart. That implied a certain goodness... didn't it?
(...waitaminnit.)
Tanker hadn't been there.
He had been hit, and knocked out for a few seconds. They had expected him to be down for longer, and had tried to tie him up. He woke in the middle of it, and kicked them off. Two soldiers, off guard, didn't stand a chance.
Siobhan hadn't done anything, had she? She hadn't even been there. But he had the strongest memory of her helping him back to the warehouse--
This wasn't making any sense.
"It's not working." Siobhan looked impassive, as usual. "We have to try something else."
"Nonsense." Tanker was up against the wall, bloody bandages wrapped around his leg and shoulder. A marble made perfect parabolic arcs as he tossed it from hand to hand. "Zell's a good boy. Follows orders real well. Isn't that right, Zell?"
Zell was fascinated by the object in Tanker's hands. It looked like a bullet cartridge, but he couldn't be sure. So he punched Tanker in the face.
Tanker got a grip on his wrists, tightening it unmercifully. "That's not going to help, Zell," he said. "Be reasonable, now. Calm down."
"He's a danger to himself and others," Siobhan was saying. Quistis was nodding solemnly.
"Well, he only joined SeeD to kill people."
(What? I did?)
If Siobhan was a third-year SeeD, that meant that she and Quistis might have graduated together. That was an interesting coincidence.
Tanker's hands were cutting into his wrists. He could barely feel his palms any more. "Let go," he snarled, and Tanker leered at him.
"Do you know what a nightmare is, Zell? A nightmare is waking up one morning and finding out that you can't live with anything you were, any way you've acted, anything you've done. We've all been there before. That's why we're here."
(But I don't think I'm unhappy...?)
"Zell... we're here to help you get better. Don't worry. Everything is going to be okay."
