The Breakspark

Chapter II - Reclaiming

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII and all characters herin belong to Squaresoft-Enix. Except for Nida's mom, though. SHE BELONGS TO ME. And the street doesn't exist, so far as I know. P

A/N: Still don't know where this is headed and hoping it's not going to sail off a cliff. If you're seeing this, it means I got three reviews, because I'm writing this Author's Note before I even upload the first chapter. Strange, ain't it?

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It was one A.M. Nida could sense this before he had even opened his eyes, before he was even fully concious. A side-effect from years of waking up for deadlines, he could always sense in the air what was happening, and wake up at certain cues. It was an annoying habit, but nevertheless useful. But there was something else in the air this morning, and he was determined to find out what it was before he turned over and woke up fully. Food? No, it wasn't food. Nida had asked his mother not to wake him up in the morning and he knew she would respect that, but there was someone there. He held his breath for a moment and heard another pair of lungs working. Left? Right? Behind him - watching him.

He knew those breaths, somehow. The hours he had spent carefully watching, carefully paying absolute attention to everything and everyone around him. The constant high alert, brought on by who-knows-what. He let himself start breathing again and began to run the sound through his memory, but before he could think of anything - he heard a chain rustle. The sound of expensive metal clinking against expensive metal -- and a sigh. Not a peaceful, contented sigh. An low, impatient, almost angry sigh. Someone who wanted him to wake up but was either too polite to do so, or was waiting for him to be shocked when he woke up. Who would he be shocked to see at this moment? The expensive metal, the tempered but oh-so-impatient sigh that lasted quite a few seconds, and showed hints of -- self-confidence? Assertion? Overbearingly annoying and cocky egotistical I'm-greater-than-you attitude?

"Almasy?"

"What the hell? How long have you been awake for, you incompetent freak? I've been standing here three hours waiting for you." He pushed down the corner with one of Nida's bed with one foot, making Nida slide out due to gravity. Nida rolled onto his back and looked groggily up at Seifer Almasy, who smirked and prodded Nida with his boot. From the ground, Seifer looked massive, dominant, and somehow exuded an air of extreme importance that made Nida feel more insignificant than usual.

Nida slowly picked himself off of the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed, ignoring Seifer's persistent you-owe-me-a-response look. "What're you doing in my room?"

"As if you don't know." He grinned an evil little grin, pulling up a small desk chair and sitting on it backwards so that his arms were perched atop the back of it. "Let me refresh your memory - two years ago, Hannushai fish market, you somehow get stuck in the gutter of doom. I rescue your pathetic hide, and I quote, 'I owe you one, Almasy'. Two years ago, and now here I am. Failed flight school, heh?"

He frowned at Seifer's knowing glare. "The test results won't even be posted until tomorrow. How'd you find out?"

"Pfft, you have no subtlety. It was simple deduction - you're still moping around your mom's house, instead of out partying or doing whatever you miserable failures do when you think you're finally getting somewhere. And I know I'm right," he added, seeing the look on Nida's face. "I'm not here to bitch at you for not making it. That ain't my job. I'm just here for one litte thing."

Nida raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "What is it?"

Seifer anchored his gunblade into the floor.

"You're going to be a mercenary." The words hit the air like a ton of bricks and floated listlessly across the silent room. Thoughts whirred like helicopter blades through Nida's head - but only one managed to make it to the surface -

"I'm going to kill people for money? That's not a small request. That's a bomb. I don't kill people."

"It's not your choice. It's your father's, and Garden's, and mine. And maybe I should've been more specific - you're going to be a pilot. The pilot. You're going to fly Balamb Garden."

"My father's dead, Almasy, and you're a lunatic," said Nida tonelessly. He got up from the bed and walked over to the door, opening and pointing out. "I don't know how you got in here, and what kind of sick joke this is, but I'm not playing along." He sighed again and shook his head. "I'm not explaining this to everyone, so pass it along. I'm done. I can't be a pilot, and I'm tired of trying because I never know anything except that I'm going to fail. I'm not going to keep doing it. I can't."

Seifer stood up and pushed the chair back to Nida's desk, looking penseive. He had expected Nida to come willingly, relieved, to be glad for a chance to do something. Two years ago, he would have been positively delighted for the chance to even attempt to pilot Garden. But now he was assured that no matter what, he couldn't do anything. Seifer wondered how Nida could have changed so much -- and then, just as quickly, he decided that he was going to have to bring out the big guns.

Nida watched, slightly curious, as Seifer rummaged in the pockets of his trenchcoat and pulled out a tiny, faded little piece of paper, cleared his throat, and began to read aloud.

"Blah blah blah blah, I, Luciano Ciancetti, do hereby instill that my son, Nida Alfonso Ciancetti, must be entered into a Garden of his choice if he should not have found a career before the age of eighteen. And he must buy Sir Seifer Ciaran Almasy a strawberry milkshake. You've been in pilot training since you were 17, haven't you? Well, you're coming with me to Balamb. That's the favor I'm asking, since there's no 'do not combine with any other offers' warning on this." He waved the paper in the air smugly in front of Nida, who grabbed it and read it so quickly that his eyes appeared blurred.

"Why didn't anyone ever tell me about this?" asked Nida, looking distraught. "And more importantly, why do you want me to come with you? And how'd you get this? And your middle name's Ciaran? And --" He stopped abruptly, realizing Seifer was grinning madly at him, which annoyed Nida greatly. "What? What's so funny?"

"Take your downers, jumpy. Didn't anyone ever teach you to ask one question at a time?" His words weren't exactly nice, but Nida could tell that Seifer was amused anyway. "Look, I got it from your mom. I take it she never told you because she didn't want you to have to leave for Garden. Yes, my middle name is Ciaran, it is Irish, get over it or so help me Hyne I will hurt you. And ..." Seifer trailed off for a second, looking thoughtful again. "I don't know why I want you to come with me. I hate you. Of course, I hate everyone, but you less than most. Plus, I saw that impressive free-form you did" -- Nida squeaked in complaint about how so many people having seen his free-form, but Seifer plowed on -- "and you know, you'd be pretty good at tactical evasion. Plus, Cid liked it, too," he added, making Nida twitch.

"...Do I still have to buy you that milkshake?"

"Yes you do, chicken-hawk. Yes you do."

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