Who knew the boy with the heart of a lion was really a paper tiger?
Squall squinted, trying to focus on the paper before him, trying to block out the voice in his head. He pushed on, despite the headache, forcing himself to read the latest mission reports, driving himself onward with a soldier's discipline.
Who knew the boy with the heart of a lion was really a paper tiger?
Still, the voice followed him. Sought him out in the secret corners of his mind. Seeped in around the cracks of his consciousness. Chipped away at his resolve. Tried to drag him down into the mire of despair.
Few things had ever sapped Squall's will to fight, but the damnable voice chilled him to the core.
Who knew the boy with the heart of a lion was really a paper tiger?
Who knew...
Who...
Cursing, Squall stood up, shoving his chair away from the desk vigorously. He crossed to the window, watching the Garden spread out beneath him. The people counting on him. The people waiting for him to make the next move. Even those he'd managed to save, he still failed. They never should have abandoned Balamb Garden, never should have left their comrades behind.
But for the cowardice on his part.
Who knew...
Sometimes he could reassure himself, believing that he did all he could, that had they not withdrawn, everyone would have fallen to Mallis' troops. Sometimes he ran through the events of that day again, trying to find the critical moment where he lost control, to reassess the battle and figure out what he did wrong.
No matter what he did, however, the voice followed him. Echoed in his ears while he worked, haunted his dreams at night.
"Screw it," he said, stalking to the elevator, knowing he couldn't accomplish much in his current state. He needed to get away from Garden, needed to move. The doors whooshed open, lowering him down to the ground level.
"Commander Leonhart," said Instructor Euve, a middle-ranking SeeD who stood waiting for the elevator, "I was just on my way to see you." In his hand he held a hefty folder, which he extended to Squall.
Squall put up his hands in protest. "Find someone else to deal with it," he said.
"But, Commander."
"Xu, or Quistis, or someone like that," he continued. "I'm done for the day."
Without waiting for a reply, he stalked off, heading for the parking garage.
His baby waited for him in his private spot: a dark silver Tempest convertible. He first drove a Tempest during the parade mission, in Deling City, hijacking the car for his assault on the Sorceress. Even as his mind had whirled, contemplating his attack, he'd succumbed to the seductive rumble of its engine. Shortly after the Second Sorceress War, he'd purchased one in a rare moment of self-indulgence. On relocating to Esthar Garden, he'd replaced the car before buying anything else.
He opened the door and put the top down. As he inserted the key, the car sprang to life under his touch, its roaring motor thrilling him. Squall backed out of the spot and punched the accelerator, abandoning the parking garage in a squeal of tires.
Soon the road opened up before him, and he floored the accelerator, the car reacting instantly. His right hand moved of its own accord, shifting between gears with a practiced ease. The scenery flashed past in an incomprehensible blur and the Garden behind him diminished to a tiny speck in his rear-view mirror.
Who knew...
He pressed harder, pushing the powerful engine to its limit, running from the sound of Mallis' mocking voice and burying it in the throaty roar of the Tempest. He drove with no particular destination in mind, intending only to flee from the laughter in his head. The car pointed itself towards the crystal city of Esthar, shimmering like a jewel on the horizon.
He drove the streets of the lower city, far beneath the arcing skyways and hovering vehicles, not knowing what he sought. Soon enough, though, he found it: Selphie's little yellow car, custom license plate BOOYAKA – a special birthday gift from Laguna.
He pulled into the spot beside her and sprang out of his car, looking at the building where he found himself: some sort of dance club, apparently. Acting completely on instinct, he pressed on, heading inside, still following a reason he couldn't comprehend.
The music closed in around him as he entered, and the crowd threatened to strangle him. Nevertheless, he cut his path through the dancers, making his way to a table at the end where he saw Selphie, sullenly contemplating a glass of liquor. He stood before her, as if asking permission, until she noticed him. With her head, she gestured to a seat at the table. Squall sat down.
Silence. He watched her for a time, neither of them moving or speaking. Finally, he broke through the stillness.
"What are you doing here?"
She raised the glass an inch or two off the table. "Drinking."
"Why?"
"Irvine doesn't like to see me drink, so I drink where he can't see me," she replied, emptying the glass.
"Oh."
Minutes passed and neither spoke. Selphie stared at her glass and sighed.
"Well, I'm not getting any drunker like this. You want something?" she asked, gesturing to a nearby waiter.
"No," Squall replied.
"Right, you don't drink."
"Right."
They sat in silence while the waiter procured her another drink. He delivered it, and Selphie looked as if he'd placed salvation in a glass. She reached for it, lifting it to her lips.
"Don't," Squall said, the word sliding out involuntarily, carrying with it the tone of a plea, a note of subtle desperation in his voice.
"Sorry?" she said, unsure she'd heard him correctly.
"Just... don't," he said, unable to name a specific motive. All he could say is that he didn't want her to take that drink. He suddenly feared the drink, found himself passionately devoted to her avoiding the liquor. He couldn't bear to see it pass her lips.
"Okay," she shrugged, sliding it aside. Squall released a breath he didn't realize he'd started holding.
They sat. More minutes ticked by. A full half-hour had elapsed since Squall first found Selphie sitting by herself.
"This sucks," Selphie said, resting her head on her hands. "Mallis comes along and suddenly two of the finest fighters Garden ever produced are reduced to a couple of bums sitting in a bar.
"I mean, we took down Ultimecia," she continued, slamming her fist on the table. "We did Time Compression and walked away from it. But now what are we supposed to do? Just go knock on his door and invite him to slaughter us? Let him get away with the whole thing? Tell me we're not going to let him get away with it," she said, reaching across the table and taking his hand, squeezing it emphatically.
"No," he replied, shaking his head.
"We're going to get him, right?"
"Yes."
"And make him pay?"
"Yes."
"Good." She did not release his hand.
They sat like that, unspeaking, for another ten minutes before Selphie asked him, "So what's your plan?"
"I don't have one," Squall shrugged.
"You know when we're going back?"
"After the field exam," he said. "Maybe."
"Why so hesitant?"
"Don't want everyone to get killed," he confessed. "Last time was bad enough."
"I'll say."
"Squall," she said eventually, sighing and looking over at her discarded glass, "I really need that drink."
The inexplicable feeling of dread rose in him again. He didn't know why, but once again, he just couldn't bear it if she took that drink.
"Dance with me?"
"What?" she laughed.
"Dance with me," he repeated, as surprised as she at the words coming from his mouth.
"An invitation to dance from Squall Leonhart?" One corner of her mouth turned in a cruel smile. "This is an occasion. I can't imagine you like this kind of music," she said, gesturing around, indicating the wailing guitar of the band onstage.
"Humor me," he said, rising from his seat, still holding her hand.
She looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, trying to gauge a motive even he couldn't define. Finally, she stood, the ghost of a smile flitting across her face. "What the hell," she said.
Selphie moved easily, like sunlight, as if she could make herself forget what had happened. Unlike the poseurs and dilettantes surrounding her, she didn't dance to conceal, she didn't dance with any kind of hidden message or innuendo. She danced as a revelation, the unmasking of what she held within her. She danced rage and pain and grief, letting it all take shape through her body.
Squall watched her, not even attempting to move to the music. He'd danced a little at the start of the song, but quickly found himself overwhelmed by the depth of the emotions she released. She never noticed his absence, so caught up in her own experience. She had a cloud around her, carrying with it months of pent-up emotion.
The song ended, and Selphie's eyes refocused on the world around her, seeing Squall again. As the next song, a slow number, started, she moved close to him, placing his hands on her small waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they started to move in rhythm.
He looked down at her jade eyes and saw the hurt in them, the deep psychic beating she'd taken when Mallis had killed the junior cadets in her charge.
"I failed them," she whispered, her voice heavy with regret.
"There was nothing we could have done," he said, shaking his head.
"I... I should have stayed with them," she insisted.
"You're... too valuable... too important," he replied, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.
"...Squall!" she choked out, releasing her arms from his neck and hugging him tight, burying her face in his chest. His arms enfolded her easily as she sobbed, her cries muffled by his shirt.
He held her like that, listening to her cry, wishing he knew what to say. Her tears had just started to subside, though, when his phone rang. Squall took a step back, awkwardly, and reached for it. He glanced at the message displayed on the screen and turned to Selphie.
"I have to go."
"Okay. I'll be okay."
He blinked. "Come with me."
"I'm sure it's ultra-important Commander stuff. You don't need me."
"Come with me," he pressed, wiping the tears off her face. "Please."
"Okay."
"You okay to drive?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"Good. Let's go."
They drove back to Garden, Squall reigning in the engine of his car in order to keep Selphie's less powerful vehicle in sight. In short order, they arrived back at Garden and parked their cars, moving briskly through the lower floors to the elevator, oblivious to everything else but each other. The elevator glowed with their shared energy.
The elevator released them at the middle floor of Squall's office.
"Follow me," Squall said, eyes strangely glittering "I have something I want to show you."
He led Selphie by way of the stairs to the lower floor of his office, to the door sealed off by way of a retinal scanner. He leaned forward, allowing the machine to confirm his identity, and it hissed open002E
Squall turned to Selphie, his face in a secret half-smile, arm gesturing into the now-open room. "Welcome to Avatar."
Selphie felt her jaw drop. Avatar: SeeD's most precious secret. The source for all of its key intelligence. Even she, the organization's most highly ranked intelligence officer, had never seen the inner workings of the system. Only two people in the history of SeeD knew the true nature of Avatar, and one of them – Headmaster Cid – had taken the secret to his grave. Speculation about Avatar ran wild. Some postulated that the system took the shape of an artificial intelligence capable of modeling real-world simulations with unerring accuracy. Others that Cid harnessed the energy of a fantastically powerful Guardian Force, enslaving it on SeeD's behalf. Both theories consisted of pure conjecture, though.
"Squall... are you sure... I mean... Do you really want to let this slip?"
He nodded, still smiling.
She walked into the room, and he followed her, the door whispering shut behind them.
Selphie's felt almost staggeringly disappointed at the mundane nature of the Avatar room. A large desk dominated the room, with a clear black surface. A comfortable black chair sat behind it. A monitor of one corner of the room showed cycling views of various security cameras throughout the Garden, focusing on the areas around Squall's office.
"Okay...," Selphie said. "So what's the big secret?"
Squall pulled the chair out from the table and gestured for her to sit. She did so. He took her hand and placed it upon the surface of the desk. Instantly, it lit up, displaying a map of the world, with a blinking red beacon on Galbadia City.
"Avatar," Squall said, almost reverently.
He took her hand again and touched it to the beacon, which zoomed the map to a local display of the Galbadia City. The map had dim red dots in addition to the persistently blinking one.
"Those are our Avatars in that city," he explained. "Our sources in the field. People who report information up the ladder, which makes its way here. Once it comes here, I send it off to you in the intelligence division."
"But who are they?" Selphie asked. "Are they SeeDs? People we've bribed? On our payroll? What?"
Squall broke into a full-out grin. "That's the beauty part. Anyone who attends Garden but doesn't join SeeD is gently tested for their willingness to act as an informer or an intelligence agent. Would they like to help out their old friends by photocopying some papers now and then? Maybe taking the odd picture or passing along a piece of gossip? Most people get a kick out of playing secret agent. And, if they ever find themselves in financial trouble, we're always willing to lend a hand."
"That's brilliant," Selphie admitted.
"Cid knew what he was doing."
"When he wasn't monstrously insane," she muttered.
Squall shrugged by way of admission.
"So what's this blinking red dot?"
"That means someone has something to tell me. Just touch it to read the report."
Selphie pressed her finger to the blinking red light. They read the report in silence.
"What do you make of it?" she asked.
"Same thing you do," he replied. "Mallis."
"Want me to have some people check into it?"
"Yeah," he nodded.
The report came from an employee at a weapons manufacturer. According to the report, the company had started working its employees overtime, pushing them hard to complete "an enormous order for a major client." The snag, however, came from the fact that no client existed. No one had purchased the weapons. No money had changed hands.
A buzzer sounded, and Squall and Selphie glanced up at the monitor to see Quistis, riding the elevator up to Squall's office. Squall rose from his position crouched at the Avatar table and moved to the door, and Selphie followed behind him. They met Quistis at the stairs.
"Squall, I'm glad I caught you," she panted, out of breath.
"What's up?" he replied.
"I just figured out how to beat Mallis."