A Word From the Author: I just got my English, Lit. and Math papers back today (Thursday). Math is OK, but I'm mad that I just missed getting top grades in the other two by ONE measly mark. GRRR! So darned unfair. Okay, everyone knows the world is unfair, but like Calvin said in Hobbes (at least I think so) : "...but why can't the world ever be unfair in my favor?" ANYWAY. That's not the point. The point here is the STORY. This chapter skips back a few days to when Laguna has just gotten killed and there's a lot of political stuff going on in Esthar at the moment. I know that you guys are all screaming for more Sephiroth/ Jenova interaction, but this coming scene is a seriously important plot device and it needs to go in. No, it can't wait. BWAHAHAHAHAHA! Seriously, otherwise the story will have a big hole in it. Cheer up, it has got Quisty in it, and she definitely doesn't take any more crap than she used to in the game. You go, girl! So, time to read!

Chapter Sixteen: Trouble in Esthar

The day before his death Laguna had been in her office. He hadn't visited for a while; he had been too busy. He looked older than ever, and it was such a drastic change in his usual buoyant personality that she was worried for him. More gray hairs streaked his black hair, more lines wrinkled his face, and he moved awkwardly, slowly, instead of the unconscious grace he had displayed when he was young. His broad shoulders seemed shrunken, more stooped, but more telling was the look in his eyes. Once bright, eager, curious, adventurous, now he just appeared weary and sad, though his natural spark of merriment still thrived deep in his orbs. How come she had never noticed before? Perhaps when she thought of Laguna, she still saw that brash, foolhardy young man he had been all those years ago. Now, though, Quistis was struck, suddenly, by the realization that Laguna was getting old. She had known that before, but without the full import of what that meant. He was old, and he was tired. He was no loner young' his energy was exhaustible. His next words proved that without a shadow of a doubt.

"I want to retire, Quistis," he had said, rubbing his eyes with a quick, practiced gesture. He ran his hands through his graying hair and sighed deeply. "But I'm the one the people look up to, the one the people trust, and I can't throw it all away. I've spent about a third of a century helping Esthar grow, and these are my people. I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone." He gave a dry, but bitter laugh.

"Wouldn't it be good for them? For me to display weakness...just a little...and they would be on me like a pack of wolves...claiming I'm senile, losing my touch, unfit to lead..." Frustrated, he shook his head. "Damn it, Quistis, since when did my Esthar degenerate into a lair of wolves?"

She glanced at him, almost appalled at what he was saying. She had never heard so much full emotion in his voice before. He had bags under his eyes, she noticed, and his hair was not combed. So uncharacteristic. He clashed so horribly with the image of the content, charismatic President she had built up in her mind. Or had it really been him at all? She was the only one who had ever known him, seen his past self through the eyes of Ellone, someone whom he could confide in with trust.

Laguna smiled wanly. "I know what you're thinking, Quistis. And I totally agree. I love this job, don't get me wrong, and Esthar is my home. It's just, so, responsible. And I've never been that much of a sucker for responsibility. I still have trouble believing it. Me, a President?" He chuckled, and took a sip from the cup of tea she had offered him. He set it down, and the humor faded from his face. "But the thing is, if I retire..." He sighed, and hunched down in his seat, absently stirring his tea. "The wolves will be waiting, for the pack leader to step down so they can fight for the vacant position to the death. Skeiz Mardon...oh, I see you know who he is. Of course you would. He's the vice-president, second to me, and Skeiz has never liked being second."

Quistis wrinkled her nose in distaste and mutual agreement. She had never quite liked Skeiz either, though he was good, good at his job. Better, in fact. He was serious, intense, focused and intelligent. He had undergone military training at Galbadia Garden and had developed an amazing talent with the whip, like her. The Academy of Esthar still sang praises about their most promising, most brilliant student. However, he also possessed ambition in great quantities, and he was young and hot-blooded. So far he had been patient, waiting for Laguna to leave. But even Skeiz wouldn't wait forever.

Now that she thought about it, a shiver passed down her spine. It seemed almost like a premonition, in light of what was to come, but at that time she had not known that.

Instead she had smiled reassuringly at the President and one of her closest friends. Quistis was Headmistress of Esthar Garden, which had been built a year after the fall of Ultimecia. She had never regretted that decision, and took delight in performing her duties, but sometimes she missed her friends and comrades-in-arms with an ache that was almost physical. Oh, when they were free, they did drop in to visit sometimes, but that was not often, and she was not always able to entertain them, being far too loaded down with her various meetings and responsibilities. She remembered vividly the last time Irvine had visited, her office had been so buried in mounds of paperwork that she had not been noticed when the cowboy had entered. In fact, she was so engrossed that Irvine had to lean over the pile of official-looking documents in front of her, remove the pen she was holding in her hand and say hello. He was smiling gently, half seriously, half jokingly, as he told her that she had to relax sometimes. She wished she could take his advice, but now with Galbadia stirring from its sleep like a long dormant dragon, there was no way she could ignore that threat. She was making her cadets and SeeDs work hard, to prepare for the new threat.

"But Skeiz has his reputation to protect if her wants to win the Estharians over to his side. When he makes a move, if he makes a move, it won't be too big. So don't worry. One day Skeiz will be replaced with someone more capable than he is and you can find a successor. Then you can happily hand over the presidency and go to live with Squall and Rinoa and grown old telling stories to all the children at the orphanage. More importantly, spent time with your family," Quistis said in a chipper voice. "One can only hope."

Laguna had laughed quietly and shook his head, his long hair waving in front of his face. "I wish, Quistis, I wish." His smile was wistful, and his eyes held a glimmer of sadness still. But his expression was definitely lighter, more jovial, as he rose to leave. His bodyguards, standing like statues at Quistis' door, snapped to attention.

"Oh, you're going already? You barely got here," Quistis asked, disappointed. Her chats with Laguna, when he could make it after a long, exhausting day of work, were practically the high points of her days. To be able to sit here, with someone who had gone through war, as she had, to be understood.

He smiled at her. "Yes, sorry," he said apologetically. Distractedly he ran both hands through his hair again, messing it up even further. "Arne's coming next week with my son and daughter-in-law. Do you think you could give yourself a break and tour Esthar with us?"

"I'll be glad to, Laguna," Quistis said at once. "It'll do you good to loosen yourself up a bit."

Laguna grinned crookedly. "I can hear it in your voice, Quistis. You think I look terrible, don't you." He held up his hand, forestalling further protest. "Yes, you're right. I do need a break. Well, see you around, Quistis. I'll call you later to arrange the time."

"Goodbye." She waved at him, then hugged him impulsively. One of Laguna's guards scowled in disapproval, then hastily rearranged his features. Laguna was surprised, but pleased. He squeezed her back briefly before letting go. They exchanged another round of farewells, then he turned around and left with his entourage.

A final goodbye, a last meeting. She never saw him alive again.

Two days later he was dead. She stared at the unmoving corpse, covered with a white shroud, through blurry eyes. She gazed at the body of the man who had meant so much to her, who only hours before had been animated with life and humor. And he was dead.

It was the first time she had ever cried in public. She couldn't believe it. Laguna had deserved to die peacefully and happily with his family and friends near the sea in Edea's orphanage. Not here, in the heart of the political storm that was Esthar, surrounded by cold, unfeeling politicians that squabbled and schemed to fill the vacant spot at the head of power.

The elections were held speedily and hastily a day after Laguna's death. Skeiz Mardon was chosen, and his face beaming in triumph, he walked out of the election hall waving to the Estharians amid the flashing of camcorders. Few smiled back. Like Quistis, they were numbed and shocked that the beloved President that had nourished Esthar for as long as they could remember through strife and peace was gone. Quistis found Skeiz's megawatt smile, his million-dollar suit, and the billion-dollar ceremony pretentious and showy. Laguna had never been one to spend money on appearance. He liked to keep things simple, he said, and when he went to work everyday, it was in the blue shirt and trousers he had been wearing when Quistis and her friends had seen him for the first time. When she had asked if he had ever washed his clothes, he had laughed and said that he had about a hundred of the same outfits hanging in his closet back in his residence. Quistis remembered his laughter with a sharp pang. She would never hear it again, and she cherished the precious memory in her heart like a fragile butterfly.

Skeiz was making his speech. She wasn't listening. Her eyes found the ground as he spoke confidently on. Someone tapped her shoulder then, and she jumped like a spooked cat. Flushing and embarrassed at her ridiculous reaction, she twisted her head around to look. It was Kiros, wearing traditional robes of black in mourning. He looked ill and miserable. No wonder. Laguna had one of his best buddies for practically forever. He, Ward and Kiros had been a threesome back in the days of their service in the Galbadia Army and were inseparable. He had endured the first pain when Ward had died. Then he had Laguna and both of them had comforted the other. Now he was alone, the last of them. Quistis wondered how he felt. Worse than her, probably, and that was saying something. He looked simply awful, and his dark skin had a lighter hue than usual. With another twist of her stomach, she wondered if the news had reached the Leonheart clan already. They had not just lost a friend; they had lost family.

"May I sit here?" Kiros asked politely, indicating the seat next to her. She nodded mutely. So they sat there, not drinking in a single word of Skeiz's speech, which was clearly winding to a dramatic climax, wallowing in their pain, shared, amplified by the thousands of bewildered Estharians that sat around them. Not all, though. Here and there some cheered for Skeiz and sneered at mention of Laguna. Quistis had to swallow and fist her hands at her sides to stop herself from leaping at them like a tigress and throttling them.

"I can't believe he's gone," Kiros said after a brief pause. She looked at him; his dark eyes were bottomless pools of indescribable grief. "Me too," she said softly. "Is it...is it foul play?" she added, choking at the very idea that someone would hate likable, charismatic Laguna so much to go to all the trouble of killing him.

Kiros sighed and absently played with his braids. "I don't want to think so," he said slowly, but the expression in his eyes indicated he did feel that such was the case. "There's just not enough proof, Quistis. Jeremy cleaned up the mess before the police arrived to investigate and disappeared shortly afterwards. We still don't know what happened to him." He looked at her very seriously. "Maybe someone tried to shut him up."

"Maybe," she echoed glumly.

After a while Kiros stood up and sighed. "I better get back to the palace to pack my stuff. I have to leave by this afternoon."

Startled, Quistis peered at him. "...Leave! Whatever for? Aren't you staying on as advisor to the president?"

Kiros shook his head, eyes grave. "No. Mardon...President Mardon just fired the entire staff last night following Laguna's..." He couldn't say the word. "...and replaced us with new loyalists. This will only be the first sign, Quistis." They locked gazes, and she understood perfectly. "Where will you go next?" she asked him.

Kiros pondered. "I haven't really thought about it. Perhaps I shall visit my hometown in Centra. I have been away for far too long." He gave her a wan smile. "So long, Quistis. I'll see you again someday."

She nodded. As he left, she suddenly felt very alone. She wanted desperately to leave, but as Headmistress of Esthar Garden, she was obliged to stay put to the very end and escort Skeiz back to the palace where he wanted a meeting with the other important leaders of the city. Rumor had it that Edigier Deling of Galbadia would be flying in tomorrow to 'discuss' the possibility of alliance with Esthar.

"We're doomed," she muttered to herself in despair.

(Back at the Presidential Palace)

Quistis sat quietly in the guest room, pretending to read a magazine, but in truth her eyes were not taking in one word of the article she was looking at. Her mind was going over the events of the recently adjourned meeting. She had not said one word. No one had. They were too shocked, as Skeiz wove his grand schemes of domination into words. He had spoken with the Galbadian President, he had announced in faintly smug tones. Galbadia and Esthar would combine into one vast force, the leading nation in technology. The smaller countries would be assimilated into the empire and any who resisted would automatically become enemies of the state. The empire, known as Es-carda, would be ruled jointly by the Presidents of both nations.

"Of course," he hastened to assure them, "the people will still have free choice of will in whether they will be included in to this glorious venture. However, sadly, they will have to be banished from Esthar...permanently. We cannot allow discord to spread within and undermine our rule."

It sure sounded like dictatorship to Quistis.

At last Quistis reached a decision. She stood and threw the magazine to the floor, stretching her limbs. She had sat cross-legged on the bed for a very long time, debating with herself. She believed that she had made the right choice. She could not possibly serve a man she had no respect for.

She made towards the door, but before she could open it, there was a smart rap on the polished wood. She opened it only to see Skeiz waiting outside, a bulky bodyguard rippling with muscle behind him. He flashed her a blinding smile. "Miss Trepe. I wish to have a private conversation with you, if you don't mind. Pardon me, for I am aware that the hour is late..."

"That's alright, sir. I was going to find you too. I have something I need to say," Quistis replied in as respectful a tone she could muster.

Skeiz looked surprised, and his smile dimmed by a couple of molars, then he said," Very well, then. Dmitri, please remain where you are," he added, as his companion started to follow him inside. The man grunted and stepped backwards, taking up a position next to the door and looking ready to fight off an entire army.

Quistis closed the door as Skeiz got comfortable on the room's only chair. It was the first time they had ever been in a room alone together and now she took the opportunity to study him. His eyes were sharp, penetrating and a clear blue. They constantly roved around, seeking, searching, for danger. He had been trained as a SeeD, after all, though he had never qualified as one. His instructors had found him impulsive and with a tendency to be violent in frustrating situations. She had trained him herself in the use of the whip. He had been dark-haired then, but now his head was clean-shaven. His features were extraordinarily angular and narrow; everything edged like a bird of prey. He was watching her as carefully as she was him. Distrust thickened the air until Quistis imagined that she could actually touch it.

He spoke first, locking his fingers together and laying them on his lap. "Why don't you sit down, Miss Trepe? It is a bit of a bother looking up at you all the time. IT' giving me a crick in the neck."

Quistis knew that she was making Skeiz uncomfortable. By standing and looking down at him, she was in a position of superiority. Quistis allowed herself a little catty moment and replied politely, "No thanks, sir. I plan to be leaving shortly after this meeting anyway."

His eyes narrowed, and Quistis was pleased to see that her words had struck a nerve. "Really? Where to, Miss Trepe? You are welcome to stay overnight at the residence. There is no need to feel that you are abusing my hospitality."

"It's not that, sir. Why don't you speak first? You're the President."

Skeiz Mardon looked at her again, hard, taking the measure of her. His wiry frame did not relax as he said, "I believe you still retain connections to your associates in the Second Sorceress War?"

Quistis frowned. This conversation was starting to reek of rat very strongly. "Of course, sir. Do you want me to contact them?"

"Not in the way you think." He was smiling now, not the light bulb one he reserved for the reporters, but a creepy vampire one (A/N: I've been reading too much Artemis Fowl.) "I have…something else in mind. And when you became Headmistress, you swore to work only in Esthar's best interests, did you not?" His voice was flat and angry now, and his eyes were burning.

"Yes, sir." Quistis definitely did not like the turn the conversation was taking.

"This is an order, Miss Trepe. You are to leave tomorrow morning for the orphanage run by the Kramers. Do whatever you have to, but get the Leonheart senior on your plane to see me. Do you understand? I want to see him immediately."

"Is this kidnap, sir?" Quistis asked coolly.

"No, it's not," Skeiz said very quietly. "You are friends, are you not? He trusts you. He will come of his own accord. It is not kidnap. Do you understand me, Miss Trepe? It is merely a meeting between two old friends. Surely you cannot bungle a mission that easy."

Quistis thought very fast. Skeiz was telling her that her career was shot if she failed to carry out his command. He was trying to take advantage of her ties to the Leonheart family to accomplish this. Unable to restrain herself, she said coldly, "I understand perfectly, sir. You want me to betray someone who's been my friend for over twenty years for your own ends. This only strengthens my decision. I'm sorry, sir, but it is not within my capacity to serve you as you wish. I quit."

Skeiz's mouth dropped open and he stared at the former Headmistress. Quistis calmly picked up a bag, sauntered away and pulled open the door to the suite. She ignored Dmitri and jogged down the corridor—towards the exit. She was in it now, she knew. Quistis realized that it would be easier to feign cooperation and depart tomorrow as he had asked, whereupon she could leave Esthar forever, but she had been unable to stop herself from lashing out at him. She was furious; wrath was building up in her like steam from a kettle. How dare he. HOW DARE HE.

Skeiz finally found his voice. "Dmitri? Get her, damn you!"

Dmitri asked no questions. He lumbered after her, pulling a gun from his jacket holster. "Stop!" he yelled. Skeiz ran from Quistis' room, rapidly yanking out his black whip, Spike, from his belt and undoing the catches. His face was twisted in rage.

Quistis turned and struck with Save the Queen. The gold links of the whip curled around Dmitri's ankles and he tripped, falling to the floor with a thud. Quistis could have sworn the floor trembled. Skeiz brandished his weapon. "Fight me, bitch!" he yelled, already losing control. Quistis shook her head in disappointment. After all this time, Skeiz still hadn't learnt.

"Sleep," she said almost gently, as the magic swirled out of her fingers and surrounded him like a sparkling haze. Fortunately he was not protected against her sorcery, and he collapsed to the floor, his face twitching as he tried to remain awake. Quistis bent her will on him, and his expression went slack. Quistis grinned in satisfaction. She had wanted to do that for a very long time. She shoved them inside her room, with difficulty (Dmitri was roughly the size and weight of a gorilla) and sprinted down the hall. They would be found soon, and she wanted to get out of here as fast as possible and return to Balamb.

She strolled out of the palace, refraining from running as it would look too suspicious. She took the air-seat to the Airstation and greeted the guard at the doors. Nearly all of them had been trained under her. She felt sorry for them as the youth greeted her brightly and permitted her to pass without question. She was leaving them behind to face Skeiz's anger when he finally woke up.

The guard standing next to the Mirrormists was different from the rest. Though he wore the same uniform, he had a black insignia pinned on his breast. An image of a raven and a thorn was sewn into it. His face was unrecognizable. Quistis felt unease. She knew everyone here. It could be one of Skeiz's men.

"ID?" he asked in a hoarse voice, his gaze scanning her. She produced her laminated card and he examined it closely, as though determined to detect a forgery. When it passed the test, he grunted and handed it back. "Business?"

"I was assigned by the President himself to a top secret mission," she answered haughtily. "Now let me pass. The situation is extremely urgent and the President will be most displeased if I am delayed."

The guard's eyes squinted at her. He looked suspicious. "I had better call the President to make sure," he muttered, reaching for the black Farspeaker dangling from his belt. Quistis groaned. Just what she needed. A loyal guard who wouldn't take a crap without asking for permission first.

Therefore, she decked him.

A couple of officials passing by gaped at her, their jaws open in a comical O of confusion. She ignored them and headed towards the nearest plane. Thankfully her access card had not been deleted from the active list yet, and she slotted it into the reader. With a beep, the door popped open and she entered. It slid shut behind her. She raced toward the cockpit and began typing a string of commands, occasionally speaking them aloud. In seconds the entire system was configured so that the computer would only listen to her.

"Activate camouflage mode. Threat assessment level five. Now," she ordered as she manipulated the controls. The sleek jet rose into the air, engines firing, and with an audible pop! vanished into thin air. Only a slight shimmer, like a heat wave, betrayed its presence.

"Mirror F9-0458, this is Esthar Airstation Control. You are not authorized to leave the landing pad. Touch down NOW or the security personnel will be sent to bring you down," blared a voice from the intercom. Quistis smirked. She had been sitting idle behind her desk for too long. This promised to be an exciting chase.

"Eat dung, Control." She found the Off switch and flipped it. The voice went silent in mid-threat. Quistis spoke again. "Prepare missiles for firing. Laser cannon, begin charge. Targeting system, on. Communications, down. Shields, on. Sensors, report."

Five planes, type F9, closing in, approximately two miles away at a speed of five hundred kilometers per hour. Target lock. All in threat approach. Lasers on. Label as enemy?

"Yes." Quistis watched as the blue blips on her screen turned red. She zoomed away from the city, unwilling to hurt civilians if she could help it. Something told her there would be a lot of wreckage dropping from the sky. Burning wreckage.

Pilot, F9-0167 is attempting to call you. Answer? the computer buzzed.

"Fine. Put whoever it is on."

The radio crackled. A voice stated, "Esthar Security Personnel. Miss Trepe, stop this madness and get back on ground. We have no wish to hurt you."

"Quistis Trepe. If so, stop chasing me. It's annoying."

"I take it this means you are not going to surrender?"

"I don't need to surrender. I haven't done anything wrong."

"President Mardon has ordered your arrest. He is willing to be forgiving, however, if you just follow us quietly back—"

"That's a good one. However, I don't believe it one whit." She hesitated, then continued, "Do you know what you're working for? Mardon is not a good man, pilot. He will be signing your death warrants by hooking up with Galbadia. You will all be at the mercy of President Deling."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end. "You didn't know that?" Quistis asked, mercilessly pressing on. She told the pilot the whole dirty story in three short sentences.

"Nevertheless, Miss, I have my orders." The pilot's voice was sad. "Unlike you, I am Estharian. I will not turn traitor."

Quistis sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Me too, if you will believe that, Miss." The pilot cut the connection and Quistis sat in silence for a few seconds before pulling herself together. She was facing five to one odds, and she had better get busy. However, deep within, there was regret for the job she must do. But she had to do it. She was a soldier. And a survivor.

She glanced at the dark blue sky around her and saw nothing. But her sensors had sharper eyes than she. Quistis knew that the other ships could pick her up on their screens as well. Hers showed that they were lining up above, beside, and behind her. They were trying to corner her. Quistis smiled and shook her head. Nuh-uh. She broke out by flying straight at one of the ships and it darted aside to avoid the crash.

"Activate Auto-Pilot," she stated. "Destination: Balamb Garden." She slid in a disk; she had been planning for her grand escapade for some time already. "Download file. Follow specified route."

Download Complete. Switching to new route

"Thanks, computer." That gave her some time to get out if here without harming someone. She didn't want to hurt the people she had lived amongst for so long. They weren't the real villains; they were just following orders because that was what they had been trained to do. She pulled out a shiny black laptop from her bag and started clacking away. She found the air control ports in no time and dug out an encrypter, an extremely useful little device Dr. Odine had given her. She attached it to her computer and within seconds it proudly produced the passwords. The plane lurched as the first lasers creased the shields and pinged off.

Return fire?

"No," she snapped, then corrected herself, "Yes. Fire rear lasers, power intensity setting zero point five."

That is the lowest setting. Do you wish to proceed?

"Yes, yes," Quistis said impatiently. She returned to her computer and typed some more, digging her fingers deep into the guts of the security systems. She smiled in delight as she finally found what she was looking for.

"Now..." she muttered, hitting a key.

The Mirrormist rocked wildly again and Quistis almost dropped her laptop. Only quick reflexes prevented it from smashing on the floor. For a moment static buzzed on her screen, before the blips came back.

"Computer, report!" she yelled.

Back Shield battery hit. Recharging. Currently at twenty-three percent. Tail exposed. Repairs commencing.

"Damn," she said in response. "Computer, increase speed."

Maximum speed. Fuel is at fifty-seven percent. Shield power is at thirty percent.

"Location."

Forty-nine percent of journey complete. Over Fisherman's Horizon.

Quistis snarled in concentration and her fingers danced frenziedly across the keyboard. DROIDS 45/8A56 DISABLE PORTS A3#094/ DO NOT RESPOND AFTER COMMAND IS CARRIED OUT/ SELF DESTRUCT ONE MINUTES/ PASSCODE 7972 TREPE OVERRIDE/

SEND ?

She jabbed at the enter key and switched on the intercom again. "Computer, monitor all verbal communication and send them to me, but no outgoing calls."

Understood.

She repeated the commands, with varying changes to the numbers of the droids. Otherwise the code was quite identical. She sat back and smiled as panicked shouts of 'Damnit! My sensors are going berserk!', 'Captain! I can't see Trepe anywhere!' , 'She's off my screen, darn it! The Prez gonna have my skin for this!' and 'Captain, my utility droids are running wild!' came through the intercom.

She reached forward and thoughtfully thumbed on her mike. "Security, you might like to know that those droids of yours will explode in approximately thirty seconds. Starting from now. Out, Trepe."

She switched off her mike and watched as a medley of curses and swear words came over the radio. The pursuing planes shuddered as a ball of fire swept through the tail ends where the droids were usually kept, including the engines. Quistis smiled as she blazed away, leaving the Estharians to deal with their new problems.

"Home sweet home," she sighed happily. "Status?"

Repairs fifty percent complete. Shields eighty-nine percent recharged.

"How long more to Balamb?"

From my mark. Mark. Ten minutes and five seconds.

She grinned and settled down into the chair, closing her eyes for a quick nap. "When it's down to five minutes, de-activate camouflage mode. Inform me if the enemy resumes pursuit and when we arrive at the Garden."

Understood. Assessing...

(At Balamb Garden)

"What the...?"

"It's a Estharian plane. Inform the Headmistress."

"Yes, sir." The technician ran away.

The SeeD motioned to his companions. "Let's give the Mirrormist a friendly welcoming reception. Just in case." The pilots laughed and climbed into their assorted crafts. They fired up and ringed around the black plane. The SeeD flight commander called, "Ragnorak B5-089 to unknown aircraft. Please identify yourself."

"Or what? You'll blow me out of the sky? This is Quistis Trepe, you morons! Now clear off so I can land," an extremely familiar voice replied irritably.

The commander was taken aback. "Headmistress Trepe?" he stammered. "I apologize ... we had no idea. You heard her, lads! Move back."

The Mirrormist touched down in the hangar, and the smaller Ragnoraks rearranged themselves around it. By the time the SeeD pilots had alighted, Quistis was standing in front of the Mirror, all traces of levity gone. "I need to see Headmistress Xu Fraden. Is she in her office?" she demanded, striding past the stunned flight crew.

"She's on her way here, Headmistress," the commander replied.

"Good," she murmured. "And I am no longer Headmistress," she added. "So you may desist with that title."

The pilots goggled at her with looks of shock on their faces. At that moment, Xu came bursting in, with three people running behind her. Her face lit up. "Quistis! What are you doing here!" she exclaimed, rushing up. For a moment, she flung her arms right, ready to crush her longtime friend in a hug, then remembered where she was.

"I suppose it can be summed up in, 'We need to save the world Again.'" Quistis said dryly. She stopped short as she spotted the Kinneas family, minus Ivan, gathered next to Xu. "What are THEY are doing here? I thought the meeting doesn't start until next week?"

Selphie looked unusually dispirited, all her usual energy all drained out of her. "We came to ask for help, Quistis. And shouldn't you be at Esthar Garden?"

Xu closed her eyes and groaned. "First it's Trabia, now it's Esthar. I haven't got that many resources, and the majority of my untrained cadets and experienced instructors are involved in Coruthary. I'm afraid, Selph," she said gently, "You'll have to wait until they get back. I myself have barely enough troops to defend the Balamb continent."

"What is it? You look...terrible, Selph," Quistis said in alarm.

Irvine and Lisa looked terrible, too. They all had massive eye bags, pale skin, and bore an expression of fear and sadness. Slowly Quistis began to assemble the pieces together.

"Hyne," she said in horror, "Don't tell me it has something to do with Ivan."

Irvine gazed at Quistis, a bitter smile on his lips. "Gee, Quistis. However did you guess?" He fell into a broody silence, and his daughter took up the thread of the story. She told Quistis everything.

"What can we do?" Quistis asked hopelessly.

Lisa rubbed her eyes. They were red around the rims. "What can we do?" she repeated cynically. "Nothing."

Author's Ending Note: I know you're thinking: What a pathetic ending. Can you sense the number of times I ran into writer's block here? I kept running out of technical terms, cause I know zilch about planes. I made everything up and it shows painfully. UGH. Please inform me if the whole plane chase thing actually made sense or not. I reread it and it doesn't seem exciting enough but I've got no idea how to improve it. Sorry for the lack of Sephy goodness in this chapter, but it's getting late and I have to shut down soon. Thanks for the 15 reviews, readers! This is the first time I've got so many for a single chapter. Of course, that could be because that is the first chapter I worked so hard on. See you next time.

Signing out,

Travithian Axile

Thanks to:

Anasazi Darkmoon: Thanks for the info on Sephy's wing and Kadowaki. And the compliment.

Zack M. Strith: What is?

Mifurey: Just popped into your profile. You haven't updated!

Noacat: Well, yeah, of course...

Seraph Paladin: Well, I'm on Disc 3. Again. Final Fantasy VIII totally rocks!

O.o: (evil grin) Well, you'll just have to wait some more.

kleptomaniac0: Thank you! You're right, I just lost my notebook which roughly details out my plot so know I'm just running on impromptu ideas and old plot stuff. Heh heh. In fact, I'm still trying to agree with myself what comes next after Seph runs into Jenova. Which is one of the reasons why I wrote this chapter first.

Hikari-Remix: Yes, yes, no, YES! I have already visualized that part...and...er...Seph will be forced into extremely uncomfortable circumstances! BWAHAHAHA! There is nothing in the world more satisfying like torturing our fav silver-haired villain...if only in imagination...

Nodmanmatt: Just don't come after me with a pitchfork after you read this...(backs nervously away.) And the killing part is unintentional.

Hopeful Wings: Who ever heard of killing people with cliffhangers? Seems to work as effectively as a knife or two...huh...

TheWyldeWestWynd: Sounds like Seph all right. He may be the One-Winged Angel, with the seriously amazing Masamune, but the POWER OF THE PEN always PREVAILS! (evil grin again)

tetraflash777: I'm not sure, because I never got to see any of Seph's moves. I just kept casting Knights of the Round again and again until he died. Sorry, Seph.

goldmonkey: Nah, she didn't. She just had her ass severely kicked and decided to hightail it back to the FF8 world. I guess this is kind of an AU fic.