Trust My Heart
by: Cathy-chan
Chapter 4: Enigmas
The sky had darkened. Midnight. Faraway stars showered their beauty from a velvety blue heaven. Quistis smiled softly at where their tour of the Garden had ended: the aft of the ship. On the military's tough warfare, the windows were used as the SeeD's primary lookout post. Tonight, it was the perfect view of Dollet's ocean-side scenery. Beneath them, Balamb Garden hovered atop a group of low hills.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she said. "Sometimes I'd go here just to look at the night sky and the stars. Something about them helps my mind clear. They take me away from my worries, even for just a second."
"Maybe their distance from us's why they can do that. It took years an' years for those stars to illuminate their light to us right now. But as my mum'd say, 'Stars ar' a glimpse into the universe's past. But be careful. Nosin' a'things too long ago'll make ye blind of whot's here an' now.'" He looked up at the heavens and laughed ruefully. "Her eccentricity was a bit strong for some people. But she was a tough and smart one. She got me outta the stars an' into reality. How to survive it. How to fight through it sometimes."
"Your mother must have taught you a lot."
"Sure. Family's where people learn themselves."
"That's what many say. I wouldn't know. I've never met my real mother."
"Never?" He turned slowly to face her. Carefully he asked, "...You were an orphan?"
"Yes. Along with my friends here in the Garden. We stayed at Edea's orphanage when we were children. Edea was our Matron, the orphans' mother. After that, I got my own, adopted parents..." She shook her head at herself as nostalgia and a bit of melancholy crept in.
"An adopted family, huh?" He smiled kindly. "Sounds like a child's dream come true."
"It was what I expected it to be for me."
Quistis' face was hard to read; the woman herself even more so, yet Bradley still saw a feigned smile upon her lips. Vaguely, he heard the despondency and closure in her tone as well; perhaps even depression. Many before her had veiled pain and truth in guarding, kind gestures. He hated such deceptions. Pretending painful actualities didn't exist never helped anyone or their problems. He had never thought Quistis to be kind that recoils into a shroud. It made him realize how fragile she truly was. Perhaps acknowledging her past was too much for her to face, or she wasn't ready yet. Either way, he had neither the right nor obligation to ask. For her sake, he left the matter be. Deep inside, a guilty part of him wanted to know. He wanted to know how a woman like Quistis came to be. Instead of meddling his curiosity into perilous grounds (which he was an expert at doing), he made himself comment, "This's one impressive Garden, Quistis." Okay, he admitted to himself, a far off statement, Rad, but what else can you say?
Beyond Quistis' vision, Bradley sighed a relief as she nodded and said, "Yes, the artisans and mechanics did an outstanding job on it, didn't they?"
"Oh yeah," he said appreciatively. "Even for an antique, it hovers like a dream."
She turned to face him. "How did you know it's old?"
"The Garden's mechanical structure. Dates back about...fifty years or so...it's rarely used these days in spite of its power and speed. The designers were Shumi, but some fellow mechanics I know from Fisherman's Horizon said they've worked on a similar model."
"I thought you only worked on cars, not Gardens."
"I like to be all around in my work. Possibly know all the classifications of mobile machinery out there some day."
Quistis was taken aback. There was nothing particular about his words, but the surety in his tone shocked her. A man who wanted it all....Was it even plausible to receive all he sought for from a short, brittle thing called life? For a full second, she stopped to gaze at his steady, green eyes. Then slowly she asked, "How can you be like this?"
"Like what?"
"Act as if Fate itself will mold into your plans."
"No, not exactly. I figure Fate'll give me a good turn one a'these days. True, I can't say that for sure. No one knows the future. The way I see it, it's a challenge one has to live up to. A promise to oneself to live life."
She didn't reply. In spite of their instant friendship this was one belief Quistis utterly disagreed with. The future? A challenge? Playing with the unforeseen as some sort of dare was what sane people call reckless. Surely, life itself was not a play. Throughout her entire life, she had viewed her time on earth as a task, laid upon her until her final days. A tolerable thing, one that could be endured. It shouldn't be taken lightly. Finally, she chose to say, "I think it's hypocrisy."
His smile tilted to one side slightly; his voice was humorous. "Accusing me of being a hypocrite, milady?"
Why did his voice sound satiric to her? To whom, himself or her? Everything she expected Bradley --an energetic, witty man-- to be was there. But by changing his tone or choice of words, he could imply a deeper or mocked meaning. She was correct in his being artful, albeit she never expected it to be with speech. A trait that got her intrigued, yet puzzled about his nature. Perhaps he liked throwing women off balance with his thought-provoking wiliness, he obviously loved generating unique discussions. "You say you know reality, but you act as if the future is a challenge. Clearly, the two don't match."
Nonchalantly, he shook his head. "No, they fit fine to me." When he saw the disbelief in Quistis' pinched and confused face, he laughed and said, "I'll prove it to you. How does meeting up for lunch tomorrow sound to you?"
Again, it took her a while to respond. Out of nowhere, without warning, she had been invited to meet him again. Did he consider their time together as a romantic relation? More importantly, did she? Astoundingly, the thought hadn't come to her until now. Being with him came...naturally. For the first time in her eighteen years, tense awareness was starting to relieve from her. Self-consciousness, in her mind and body, became less prominent in her actions and thoughts. Hence, it was only natural that she replied with, "That sounds fine to me."
Then, abruptly, she realized how futile it was. Tomorrow afternoon, Balamb Garden is going to depart from Dollet. How can I see you again? She was about to ask the question aloud when the overhead speaker announced, "Quistis Trepe, please report to the infirmary immediately."
"I have to go. I think Dr. Kadowaki needs my help again." When students injure themselves during training, the doctor turned to Quistis for help because she was the one and only ex-instructor every patient related to or adored.
"I'll meet you tomorrow then, milady." He gave her forehand a quick kiss before walking away to the door. He didn't speak of how they could cross paths again. Maybe he doesn't mean to meet up with me again, she rationalized. It was a bit of a letdown. He was intellectual, engaging and pleasant to talk to. When the announcement repeated itself again, it was only then did she became aware of her stillness. Hastily, she sprinted for the doorway and walked briskly to the infirmary.
~~~~~~
Dimmed by a single light source from the computer screen, Squall's dormitory was one of the few rooms still active during the midnight hour. He didn't want to disturb Rinoa by turning on the lights. She was asleep soundly on his bed, heedless to the clicking keyboard. Ever since moving into the Garden, she came to his room every evening, either to say 'good night' or to snuggle next to him on the bed. Tonight, Squall was too agitated to lie down next to her. His instincts and over-thinking bothered him badly. So badly, sleep would not come if didn't check for the new stranger's name in the SeeD's documented reports. All night, he had a stubborn notion of seeing Bradley Atkin's profile in the records not long ago. However, arriving at his goal only made sleep that more impossible to attain. He gave the face a hard, extensive look, yet the longer he stared, the less he became certain if he was looking at Mr. Atkins or an almost identical man. No name or other text came with the monochrome photograph. It was simply a picture of a man with long, bleached hair, a five o'clock shadow and a very intimidating frown. Underneath a mass of wild bangs, the glower definitely didn't match Bradley's ever-slanted grinning face. On the other hand, what kind of man would smile at a filthy, bruised, crime mug? Either the SeeDs or another gang got a good bash at his blotched left eye and jaw. His pale eyes had murderous intent written all over them, but so would anyone else after being thrashed. It looked to be the same exceptional face of a man close to or in his twenties, yet a lot of it was covered by his unruly hair.
Squall did nothing but stare at it for five minutes. Ultimately, his search ended inconclusively. He would find no more. At least, not in his laptop. If he snooped and asked questions to other Gardens or authorities, he could possibly find the photograph's identity. Generally, he wouldn't bother with nit-picking through people's pasts, but it was Quistis' safety he was considering.
He had to find out.
After printing the photograph, he thought of contacting someone who might discern the picture, but it was too late in the evening to be inquiring. Lying down next to Rinoa, he tried his best to slumber. But all he could do was absently drill the man's profile into his over-worked brain.
~~~~~~
"Thanks a lot, Brad! You're doing Nida a great favour. You wouldn't believe how many times he nagged us about it!" Selphie said, giggling and pointing at the Garden's pilot. Nida answered her by humorously sticking out his tongue. Outside the bridge's immense windows, she saw Bradley inspecting what the pilot complained about.
"No big deal. It's a simple solution of gettin' this panel fixed, really," he said loud enough for the people to hear inside. A linked wire kept him on the metal surface of the ship as he hammered a dent while explaining, "It's amazing how one, tiny nick could tear the sides off this Garden. Y'know that whislin' noise Nida's talkin' about? The shell was startin' to tear. Not too much, but enough for fast winds to go through. See? Right here." He pointed at a hole no bigger than a grain of rice.
Inside the bridge, she followed where Bradley pointed. When she found it, she gaped at it and exclaimed, "Oooh....We've never noticed that hole before. Uhm....isn't it scary being out there so high up from the ground?"
"Not really. It's part of m'job more often than not," he answered. After using a welder on the hole, he waved to her, saying, "I'm done. No whisling'll be bothering Nida now."
As Selphie welcomed him in through an opening, he saw two people arriving from the elevator. The first person he saw was Squall, the man with a semi-permanent frown. His scowl was a bit peculiar; as if he recently found fifty more reasons to detest Bradley. Once the commander's eyes left him, the iciness in him decreased. Squall's attitude made his brows knot as well. Never had he met anyone so determined to despise another man. He hadn't done anything to Squall. He actually tried being polite to him the first time they met, in fact.
To distract himself from the troubling mystery, he glanced at the second person who entered. His eyes widened slightly; it was Quistis. And she was the perfect distraction; a feminine vision of a two-piece outfit, jangling things on her hips and brown leather gloves and boots. It was the first time he saw her in her regular attire. He noted the long leather hanging on her belt. A sexy, smart teacher with a whip...the boys must have had quite a lesson, he thought. I bet she had fans...Maybe she still does. Slowly, he scanned her from head to toe with his pale green eyes as she walked towards him. Her blue eyes were wide with surprise. Her eyes were so clear and round, a calm sea. Long strands of gossamer gold framed her soft, pale features. Goddess. It was the exquisite word for the lady he beheld. Without speaking, he watched as Quistis' cheeks gradually turned pink. Her forearms came up around her stomach, he was beginning to realize it was one of her characteristic gestures. Her pouty lips pressed tightly together; she was looking for something to say, he speculated. Then at last she said, "What're you doing here?"
Off-handedly his answer was, "Does yer groupie have a name?"
She crossed her arms tightly together and said, "They call themselves the 'Trepies.' Who told you about them? You still haven't answered my question yet."
"Ah, why I am here...Selphie needed someone to fix a tear. It just happen to know how to solve her problem. Besides, I did say I'll see you today." His eyes became playful again. "And as for yer fans, Quistis, no one told me anythin'. A guess." He laughed. "Cute name, yer groupie has."
"I thought it was silly when they first came up with it. But they are such dedicated and enthusiastic students as a group so I left them be." She shook her head and laughed sofly. "It's strange that The Trepies still exist after I got demoted."
He grinned. "No, they're dedicated to ya. You should be proud."
Quistis bit her bottom lip, then chuckled. "Proud of a fan club? I still don't understand why I have one." Her coy expression told him she was fond of her fans, but didn't think she deserved them. She was modest, careful and rational. It showed on their initial meeting. Yet he felt that the complete opposite was lurking beneath her impish, pale eyes. He considered that perhaps she had a 'devil may care' persona once, a long time ago. Or a wildness in her that hadn't been give a chance to resurface. She was bossy to an extent too, he realized. He became aware of it when she held firmly to her opinions with an authoritative air. On that account, she must have always been the leader of nearly everything in her life. He was captivated by the contrast: head-strong and bossy, but also modest and whimsical.
"Hey, Quisty!" Selphie greeted as she touched Quistis' arm. "Did Brad tell you he did Nida a great favour? He was sooo skillful, being suspended outside the Garden! And ooh! Did you hear!? Trabia Garden's almost back to its old self, thanks to the Balamb students who came and help them. Trabia thanked us by sending these really fast bikes. Me and Irvy tried them today. They're sooo cool! Why don't you guys take a spin at them? The Garden stopped just a few miles south from Dollet. The view on the sea-side cliff is beautiful!" She inched closer to Quists' ear, winked at her then whispered, "Plus, you get to hug Brad real tight from behind."
Before Quistis could reply, Squall came marching towards them saying, "Quistis, Headmaster Cid informed me that new, junior students from Trabia Garden will be transferring here today. You will be able to guide and brief them on Balamb Garden and its rules, won't you?" After receiving a nod from her, he turned and walked swiftly back to the pilot's side.
"Aaaw, Quisty! You could've just refused," Selphie whined.
"How can I? It's direct orders from the headmaster, isn't it?"
"Uh-uh." Selphie happily shook her head. "That's not what he said. He could easily brief the students himself." She leaned in closer so that only her and Bradley could hear. "The way me, Zell and Irvine figure it, Squall's been waiting for a plan to get'cha away from Brad." She straightened up and patted them both on the shoulder. "Let me take care of the juniors. I'd really love to! They're from Trabia, after all, so I should be the one showing 'em the ropes."
"Won't Squall notice me not doing my job?"
She giggled. "He won't if his busy schedule keeps him occupied long enough." She grabbed Quistis' arm and whispered into her ear again, saying, "C'mon, Quisty. How often do ya get to be with a hunky guy two days in a row? Have fun! Let us kids worry about the work for once. And hey, it'll be fun foolin' Squall too."
"Thank you, Selphie. I owe you one," she whispered back with a smile.
Selphie snickered, then as casually as possible she said aloud, "So I'll see you after you brief those junior students then, Quisty." Behind Squall's back, she winked and mouthed, Have fun, you two!
Quistis winked back. It was hard not to make their departure look conspicuous, but with Squall's attention centered on the pilot speaking, the two were able to steal away to the elevator. It wasn't long until they reached the parking lot. Not far from the entrance, they caught sight of a newly manufactured motorcycle. Its coat of emblazoned, fire and silver on a metallic surface shone, even in the dim light of the lot.
Bradley whistled. "Nice piece of work, Trabia engineers and designers did."
"It sure is. It looks like it'll run really fast." Quistis stood in front of it and ran her fingers gracefully and smoothly across the handle, the machine's side, then the seat. She turned and discovered Bradley had been silent and staring at her. Their eyes held. Neither of them noticed that no one had spoken a word in a while, and that both of them were still staring.
Still looking directly into her eyes, Bradley said, "Are instructors and SeeD taught how to ride motorcycles in your academy?"
"We were trained to operate any kind of vehicle. Though I'm more used to driving vans and cars. It's rare for us to require using a motorcycle during a mission."
"It shouldn't be rare," he commented. "This thing is definitely a lot faster'n the standard cars in here." He grinned, the devilish slant appearing on the left side of his lips. After he sat himself on the bike, he leaned his elbows on the handles and said, "Do you want to know how much faster?"
Quistis' smile took on a mischievous hint. "Don't tell me your an expert on motorcycles too."
He chuckled. "A bloke's gotta learn 'bout sumthin,' though can't say I'm an expert. I jus' happen ta like riding anythin' fast as on my spare time." With ease, he relaxed on the bike's front with both forearms. "An' I ain't surprised ya rarely use 'em. I bet SeeDs --an' their instructors-- 're too...tight fer these kinda things."
Her smile became wider, mostly because she noticed the thickening of his accent. He was teasing her again, trying to throw her off balance. He was challenging her. He wanted for her to show him different. In a lithe, deliberate motion, she sat behind him and declared, "SeeDs are trained to command anything, Mr. Atkins. Whether it be a situation...or speed. You can go as fast as you want, but you will never see this SeeD become...'tight,' as you've put it."
Bradley let out a loud laugh; he was shocked and pleased to hear her answer. "Aye, aye. Whatever ye say, Ms. Trepe!" At the step of the accelerator, the engine and exhaust came alive with a roar. In a flash they sped off into the grassy plains with the wheels burning and gripping the surface.
To be continued...
by: Cathy-chan
Chapter 4: Enigmas
The sky had darkened. Midnight. Faraway stars showered their beauty from a velvety blue heaven. Quistis smiled softly at where their tour of the Garden had ended: the aft of the ship. On the military's tough warfare, the windows were used as the SeeD's primary lookout post. Tonight, it was the perfect view of Dollet's ocean-side scenery. Beneath them, Balamb Garden hovered atop a group of low hills.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she said. "Sometimes I'd go here just to look at the night sky and the stars. Something about them helps my mind clear. They take me away from my worries, even for just a second."
"Maybe their distance from us's why they can do that. It took years an' years for those stars to illuminate their light to us right now. But as my mum'd say, 'Stars ar' a glimpse into the universe's past. But be careful. Nosin' a'things too long ago'll make ye blind of whot's here an' now.'" He looked up at the heavens and laughed ruefully. "Her eccentricity was a bit strong for some people. But she was a tough and smart one. She got me outta the stars an' into reality. How to survive it. How to fight through it sometimes."
"Your mother must have taught you a lot."
"Sure. Family's where people learn themselves."
"That's what many say. I wouldn't know. I've never met my real mother."
"Never?" He turned slowly to face her. Carefully he asked, "...You were an orphan?"
"Yes. Along with my friends here in the Garden. We stayed at Edea's orphanage when we were children. Edea was our Matron, the orphans' mother. After that, I got my own, adopted parents..." She shook her head at herself as nostalgia and a bit of melancholy crept in.
"An adopted family, huh?" He smiled kindly. "Sounds like a child's dream come true."
"It was what I expected it to be for me."
Quistis' face was hard to read; the woman herself even more so, yet Bradley still saw a feigned smile upon her lips. Vaguely, he heard the despondency and closure in her tone as well; perhaps even depression. Many before her had veiled pain and truth in guarding, kind gestures. He hated such deceptions. Pretending painful actualities didn't exist never helped anyone or their problems. He had never thought Quistis to be kind that recoils into a shroud. It made him realize how fragile she truly was. Perhaps acknowledging her past was too much for her to face, or she wasn't ready yet. Either way, he had neither the right nor obligation to ask. For her sake, he left the matter be. Deep inside, a guilty part of him wanted to know. He wanted to know how a woman like Quistis came to be. Instead of meddling his curiosity into perilous grounds (which he was an expert at doing), he made himself comment, "This's one impressive Garden, Quistis." Okay, he admitted to himself, a far off statement, Rad, but what else can you say?
Beyond Quistis' vision, Bradley sighed a relief as she nodded and said, "Yes, the artisans and mechanics did an outstanding job on it, didn't they?"
"Oh yeah," he said appreciatively. "Even for an antique, it hovers like a dream."
She turned to face him. "How did you know it's old?"
"The Garden's mechanical structure. Dates back about...fifty years or so...it's rarely used these days in spite of its power and speed. The designers were Shumi, but some fellow mechanics I know from Fisherman's Horizon said they've worked on a similar model."
"I thought you only worked on cars, not Gardens."
"I like to be all around in my work. Possibly know all the classifications of mobile machinery out there some day."
Quistis was taken aback. There was nothing particular about his words, but the surety in his tone shocked her. A man who wanted it all....Was it even plausible to receive all he sought for from a short, brittle thing called life? For a full second, she stopped to gaze at his steady, green eyes. Then slowly she asked, "How can you be like this?"
"Like what?"
"Act as if Fate itself will mold into your plans."
"No, not exactly. I figure Fate'll give me a good turn one a'these days. True, I can't say that for sure. No one knows the future. The way I see it, it's a challenge one has to live up to. A promise to oneself to live life."
She didn't reply. In spite of their instant friendship this was one belief Quistis utterly disagreed with. The future? A challenge? Playing with the unforeseen as some sort of dare was what sane people call reckless. Surely, life itself was not a play. Throughout her entire life, she had viewed her time on earth as a task, laid upon her until her final days. A tolerable thing, one that could be endured. It shouldn't be taken lightly. Finally, she chose to say, "I think it's hypocrisy."
His smile tilted to one side slightly; his voice was humorous. "Accusing me of being a hypocrite, milady?"
Why did his voice sound satiric to her? To whom, himself or her? Everything she expected Bradley --an energetic, witty man-- to be was there. But by changing his tone or choice of words, he could imply a deeper or mocked meaning. She was correct in his being artful, albeit she never expected it to be with speech. A trait that got her intrigued, yet puzzled about his nature. Perhaps he liked throwing women off balance with his thought-provoking wiliness, he obviously loved generating unique discussions. "You say you know reality, but you act as if the future is a challenge. Clearly, the two don't match."
Nonchalantly, he shook his head. "No, they fit fine to me." When he saw the disbelief in Quistis' pinched and confused face, he laughed and said, "I'll prove it to you. How does meeting up for lunch tomorrow sound to you?"
Again, it took her a while to respond. Out of nowhere, without warning, she had been invited to meet him again. Did he consider their time together as a romantic relation? More importantly, did she? Astoundingly, the thought hadn't come to her until now. Being with him came...naturally. For the first time in her eighteen years, tense awareness was starting to relieve from her. Self-consciousness, in her mind and body, became less prominent in her actions and thoughts. Hence, it was only natural that she replied with, "That sounds fine to me."
Then, abruptly, she realized how futile it was. Tomorrow afternoon, Balamb Garden is going to depart from Dollet. How can I see you again? She was about to ask the question aloud when the overhead speaker announced, "Quistis Trepe, please report to the infirmary immediately."
"I have to go. I think Dr. Kadowaki needs my help again." When students injure themselves during training, the doctor turned to Quistis for help because she was the one and only ex-instructor every patient related to or adored.
"I'll meet you tomorrow then, milady." He gave her forehand a quick kiss before walking away to the door. He didn't speak of how they could cross paths again. Maybe he doesn't mean to meet up with me again, she rationalized. It was a bit of a letdown. He was intellectual, engaging and pleasant to talk to. When the announcement repeated itself again, it was only then did she became aware of her stillness. Hastily, she sprinted for the doorway and walked briskly to the infirmary.
~~~~~~
Dimmed by a single light source from the computer screen, Squall's dormitory was one of the few rooms still active during the midnight hour. He didn't want to disturb Rinoa by turning on the lights. She was asleep soundly on his bed, heedless to the clicking keyboard. Ever since moving into the Garden, she came to his room every evening, either to say 'good night' or to snuggle next to him on the bed. Tonight, Squall was too agitated to lie down next to her. His instincts and over-thinking bothered him badly. So badly, sleep would not come if didn't check for the new stranger's name in the SeeD's documented reports. All night, he had a stubborn notion of seeing Bradley Atkin's profile in the records not long ago. However, arriving at his goal only made sleep that more impossible to attain. He gave the face a hard, extensive look, yet the longer he stared, the less he became certain if he was looking at Mr. Atkins or an almost identical man. No name or other text came with the monochrome photograph. It was simply a picture of a man with long, bleached hair, a five o'clock shadow and a very intimidating frown. Underneath a mass of wild bangs, the glower definitely didn't match Bradley's ever-slanted grinning face. On the other hand, what kind of man would smile at a filthy, bruised, crime mug? Either the SeeDs or another gang got a good bash at his blotched left eye and jaw. His pale eyes had murderous intent written all over them, but so would anyone else after being thrashed. It looked to be the same exceptional face of a man close to or in his twenties, yet a lot of it was covered by his unruly hair.
Squall did nothing but stare at it for five minutes. Ultimately, his search ended inconclusively. He would find no more. At least, not in his laptop. If he snooped and asked questions to other Gardens or authorities, he could possibly find the photograph's identity. Generally, he wouldn't bother with nit-picking through people's pasts, but it was Quistis' safety he was considering.
He had to find out.
After printing the photograph, he thought of contacting someone who might discern the picture, but it was too late in the evening to be inquiring. Lying down next to Rinoa, he tried his best to slumber. But all he could do was absently drill the man's profile into his over-worked brain.
~~~~~~
"Thanks a lot, Brad! You're doing Nida a great favour. You wouldn't believe how many times he nagged us about it!" Selphie said, giggling and pointing at the Garden's pilot. Nida answered her by humorously sticking out his tongue. Outside the bridge's immense windows, she saw Bradley inspecting what the pilot complained about.
"No big deal. It's a simple solution of gettin' this panel fixed, really," he said loud enough for the people to hear inside. A linked wire kept him on the metal surface of the ship as he hammered a dent while explaining, "It's amazing how one, tiny nick could tear the sides off this Garden. Y'know that whislin' noise Nida's talkin' about? The shell was startin' to tear. Not too much, but enough for fast winds to go through. See? Right here." He pointed at a hole no bigger than a grain of rice.
Inside the bridge, she followed where Bradley pointed. When she found it, she gaped at it and exclaimed, "Oooh....We've never noticed that hole before. Uhm....isn't it scary being out there so high up from the ground?"
"Not really. It's part of m'job more often than not," he answered. After using a welder on the hole, he waved to her, saying, "I'm done. No whisling'll be bothering Nida now."
As Selphie welcomed him in through an opening, he saw two people arriving from the elevator. The first person he saw was Squall, the man with a semi-permanent frown. His scowl was a bit peculiar; as if he recently found fifty more reasons to detest Bradley. Once the commander's eyes left him, the iciness in him decreased. Squall's attitude made his brows knot as well. Never had he met anyone so determined to despise another man. He hadn't done anything to Squall. He actually tried being polite to him the first time they met, in fact.
To distract himself from the troubling mystery, he glanced at the second person who entered. His eyes widened slightly; it was Quistis. And she was the perfect distraction; a feminine vision of a two-piece outfit, jangling things on her hips and brown leather gloves and boots. It was the first time he saw her in her regular attire. He noted the long leather hanging on her belt. A sexy, smart teacher with a whip...the boys must have had quite a lesson, he thought. I bet she had fans...Maybe she still does. Slowly, he scanned her from head to toe with his pale green eyes as she walked towards him. Her blue eyes were wide with surprise. Her eyes were so clear and round, a calm sea. Long strands of gossamer gold framed her soft, pale features. Goddess. It was the exquisite word for the lady he beheld. Without speaking, he watched as Quistis' cheeks gradually turned pink. Her forearms came up around her stomach, he was beginning to realize it was one of her characteristic gestures. Her pouty lips pressed tightly together; she was looking for something to say, he speculated. Then at last she said, "What're you doing here?"
Off-handedly his answer was, "Does yer groupie have a name?"
She crossed her arms tightly together and said, "They call themselves the 'Trepies.' Who told you about them? You still haven't answered my question yet."
"Ah, why I am here...Selphie needed someone to fix a tear. It just happen to know how to solve her problem. Besides, I did say I'll see you today." His eyes became playful again. "And as for yer fans, Quistis, no one told me anythin'. A guess." He laughed. "Cute name, yer groupie has."
"I thought it was silly when they first came up with it. But they are such dedicated and enthusiastic students as a group so I left them be." She shook her head and laughed sofly. "It's strange that The Trepies still exist after I got demoted."
He grinned. "No, they're dedicated to ya. You should be proud."
Quistis bit her bottom lip, then chuckled. "Proud of a fan club? I still don't understand why I have one." Her coy expression told him she was fond of her fans, but didn't think she deserved them. She was modest, careful and rational. It showed on their initial meeting. Yet he felt that the complete opposite was lurking beneath her impish, pale eyes. He considered that perhaps she had a 'devil may care' persona once, a long time ago. Or a wildness in her that hadn't been give a chance to resurface. She was bossy to an extent too, he realized. He became aware of it when she held firmly to her opinions with an authoritative air. On that account, she must have always been the leader of nearly everything in her life. He was captivated by the contrast: head-strong and bossy, but also modest and whimsical.
"Hey, Quisty!" Selphie greeted as she touched Quistis' arm. "Did Brad tell you he did Nida a great favour? He was sooo skillful, being suspended outside the Garden! And ooh! Did you hear!? Trabia Garden's almost back to its old self, thanks to the Balamb students who came and help them. Trabia thanked us by sending these really fast bikes. Me and Irvy tried them today. They're sooo cool! Why don't you guys take a spin at them? The Garden stopped just a few miles south from Dollet. The view on the sea-side cliff is beautiful!" She inched closer to Quists' ear, winked at her then whispered, "Plus, you get to hug Brad real tight from behind."
Before Quistis could reply, Squall came marching towards them saying, "Quistis, Headmaster Cid informed me that new, junior students from Trabia Garden will be transferring here today. You will be able to guide and brief them on Balamb Garden and its rules, won't you?" After receiving a nod from her, he turned and walked swiftly back to the pilot's side.
"Aaaw, Quisty! You could've just refused," Selphie whined.
"How can I? It's direct orders from the headmaster, isn't it?"
"Uh-uh." Selphie happily shook her head. "That's not what he said. He could easily brief the students himself." She leaned in closer so that only her and Bradley could hear. "The way me, Zell and Irvine figure it, Squall's been waiting for a plan to get'cha away from Brad." She straightened up and patted them both on the shoulder. "Let me take care of the juniors. I'd really love to! They're from Trabia, after all, so I should be the one showing 'em the ropes."
"Won't Squall notice me not doing my job?"
She giggled. "He won't if his busy schedule keeps him occupied long enough." She grabbed Quistis' arm and whispered into her ear again, saying, "C'mon, Quisty. How often do ya get to be with a hunky guy two days in a row? Have fun! Let us kids worry about the work for once. And hey, it'll be fun foolin' Squall too."
"Thank you, Selphie. I owe you one," she whispered back with a smile.
Selphie snickered, then as casually as possible she said aloud, "So I'll see you after you brief those junior students then, Quisty." Behind Squall's back, she winked and mouthed, Have fun, you two!
Quistis winked back. It was hard not to make their departure look conspicuous, but with Squall's attention centered on the pilot speaking, the two were able to steal away to the elevator. It wasn't long until they reached the parking lot. Not far from the entrance, they caught sight of a newly manufactured motorcycle. Its coat of emblazoned, fire and silver on a metallic surface shone, even in the dim light of the lot.
Bradley whistled. "Nice piece of work, Trabia engineers and designers did."
"It sure is. It looks like it'll run really fast." Quistis stood in front of it and ran her fingers gracefully and smoothly across the handle, the machine's side, then the seat. She turned and discovered Bradley had been silent and staring at her. Their eyes held. Neither of them noticed that no one had spoken a word in a while, and that both of them were still staring.
Still looking directly into her eyes, Bradley said, "Are instructors and SeeD taught how to ride motorcycles in your academy?"
"We were trained to operate any kind of vehicle. Though I'm more used to driving vans and cars. It's rare for us to require using a motorcycle during a mission."
"It shouldn't be rare," he commented. "This thing is definitely a lot faster'n the standard cars in here." He grinned, the devilish slant appearing on the left side of his lips. After he sat himself on the bike, he leaned his elbows on the handles and said, "Do you want to know how much faster?"
Quistis' smile took on a mischievous hint. "Don't tell me your an expert on motorcycles too."
He chuckled. "A bloke's gotta learn 'bout sumthin,' though can't say I'm an expert. I jus' happen ta like riding anythin' fast as on my spare time." With ease, he relaxed on the bike's front with both forearms. "An' I ain't surprised ya rarely use 'em. I bet SeeDs --an' their instructors-- 're too...tight fer these kinda things."
Her smile became wider, mostly because she noticed the thickening of his accent. He was teasing her again, trying to throw her off balance. He was challenging her. He wanted for her to show him different. In a lithe, deliberate motion, she sat behind him and declared, "SeeDs are trained to command anything, Mr. Atkins. Whether it be a situation...or speed. You can go as fast as you want, but you will never see this SeeD become...'tight,' as you've put it."
Bradley let out a loud laugh; he was shocked and pleased to hear her answer. "Aye, aye. Whatever ye say, Ms. Trepe!" At the step of the accelerator, the engine and exhaust came alive with a roar. In a flash they sped off into the grassy plains with the wheels burning and gripping the surface.
To be continued...