Chapter Three
the pieces of a puzzle
The town of Balamb was always a cheerful place, full of splashes of life: water upon beach, sun upon stone. This day was much like any other: beautiful, but not overwhelming; calm and peaceful, like most of Balamb was. Sunlight dripped from the buildings, gracefully falling from smooth, well-worn wood and stone onto the passers-by. Waves gently hissed up and down the shoreline as a soft soundtrack to the dance of the falling sunbeams.
Quistis Trepe stood in front of the Balamb Hotel. Dressed in her SeeD uniform – spotless and neatly pressed as usual – she looked tall and professional, almost regal. She was early. She was ten steps away from the door.
She was trying to gather her courage, or her wits. Either would be acceptable; she could deal with losing one, but both had currently gone to lunch and they were sorely missed.
The night had been long and mostly sleepless. As she had expected, she had been unable to sleep, turning the possibilities over and over in her head. Scenarios presented themselves; emotions crept out of their hiding place and wrung themselves around her heart. She had told herself sternly to get her sleep because she'd need it tomorrow; and her head had firmly told her to get bent and continued to dance around with predicaments and possibilities.
All her life Quistis had used a simple strategy with her big decisions. If she was truly torn between two things and was unable to decide … she simply chose a solution and went to sleep. The ideas turned themselves over in her head while she slept away, oblivious. When she woke up in the morning, she always knew if her decision had been wrong – she could tell; something in her bones, or her heart, or her head told her she needed to go in another direction. If she woke up in the morning and felt good about the decision – well, obviously, she moved on. The habit had never failed her.
However, it did require a sound sleep. Something that had eluded her.
At four in the morning she decided to hell with this, I'm awake and I'm going to do something productive with myself. She got up, made tea, and graded a set of lab reports that weren't due for a week. She did an extra-long workout. She read ahead in the text she was thinking of assigning for Limit Break Dev. And she still wasn't tired.
The decision was still as elusive as ever. Six-thirty came and went, and the day began.
In desperation, Quistis headed to her office. She'd do some organizing, perhaps. Let the thoughts simmer in the back of her head while she filed papers and reorganized her pen collection. She was as fidgety as a puppy, and resented herself for it. What was so hard about accepting this amazing opportunity? She'd have to work for it, yes, but she had never shirked a job. Ever. Could she find the confidence in herself to just take it? What if she messed up? What if she failed?
What if she gave up now? What sort of person was she?
She blinked into her pencil drawer, unable to focus her eyes. She could do it, she had been asked to do it, it had been offered to her. Other people had faith.
Why couldn't she?
Back to the pencils.
In the midst of her half-hearted attempts at distraction, there was a knock at the door. She jumped, and then cursed loudly, and then laughed at herself. Finally she called out to invite the guest in.
She had been expecting a student, coming to complain about an assignment or to appeal a grade on Selphie's final. The last person she had expected to see was Squall Leonhart. She would've been less surprised had it been the hot-dog lady.
The Commander of Balamb Garden stood outside her door, looking just as surprised with himself as Quistis felt. She almost had to laugh at the look on his face, thinking, Rinoa put you up to this, didn't she. She'd invited him in, gesturing to the chairs that stood along her wall.
"Go ahead and pull one up, Commander," she said, slamming her pen drawer closed a little harder than she had expected. For a second her heart had flared up with hope – Squall knew her, he could talk to her, give her advice on what to do and what she was good at –
And then her brain had caught up with her heart and given it a good solid slap. This was Commander Squall Talk-To-A-Wall Leonhart (her brain chuckled, because that rhymed) and he would be no help whatsoever.
Quistis and Squall had found it hard to get along. True, they had never been best friends. But the awkwardness of their interwoven histories – and Quistis's self-proclaimed misunderstood love – stood between them. There was too much past between them that wasn't past. The awkwardness of their positions in relationship to each other didn't help, either. Squall was still Commander, a position he loathed and yet had been handed freely. And Quistis had fought her way back to Instructorship, a position she loved and yet had been denied. Neither of them took well to authority from each other; they both remembered that not long ago they had been Instructor and Student. And not long before that they had been two small lonely children, one tall and one small.
Overall it was a mess which manifested itself in large amounts of awkwardness. Quistis was too bitter and cynical to think that she and Squall could be friends now; and Squall was too stubborn and cold to let anyone save ethereal Rinoa behind his wall.
Squall sighed, and that look appeared on his face again, the one that said he was really surprised to be here; and Quistis began to think in spite of herself that perhaps Rinoa hadn't sent him at all.
"I hear you've been offered a wonderful opportunity," he began formally.
Damn, Quistis thought, unsure of how to treat the opening. Working with your friends is a problem – is this an official visit from the Commander? "I've been offered a mission and a reward," she began, her head spinning.
"I suggested you," Squall said simply, and the sentence was so unexpected that even Quistis was caught off-guard.
"Yes, Headmaster Cid said so," she replied awkwardly. Um. Was he expecting a thank-you card? A pat on the back? A cookie?
He shifted in his chair as if he had just had the same thought and didn't want any of Quistis's gratitude (or her cookies). "Are you going to take it?"
She paused again, and said truthfully: "I'm not sure yet."
"Really."
She looked up at him and blurted out: "What do you think?"
And suddenly they were children again, one tall golden-crowned girl who wanted to be the older sister but couldn't do it without the approval of the others - especially the one small dark-haired boy who only wanted the other sister, wouldn't accept her -
Squall blinked in surprise, and then shifted in his chair again, and then very nearly smiled. "Do I think you should do it? Or do I think you can do it?"
Very slowly, she nodded, knowing that a part of her very much wanted to hear his answer. "Either. Or both."
"Of course," he said then, the tone of his voice plainly telling her, I wouldn't have suggested you otherwise.
They sat, looking at each other almost awkwardly.
"Wow," she said finally, smiling slightly. "A two-word pep talk from the Commander."
Surprisingly, Squall answered her smile with a small one of his own. "At least I didn't tell you to talk to a wall."
Her smile broadened in response. "Well," she said, "that would have been four words. Hyne forbid."
He raised one eyebrow. "I wanted to tell you," he said quietly but solidly, "that you'd have my support."
The warm golden feeling of encouragement and approval had slowly sunk through her then. She had the confidence of Cid and Squall – the men that had perhaps played the most important roles in her life up to now – and it was like a force that had settled in her bones and her heart. It was the greatest compliment she had ever been paid. Quistis felt tall again.
It was on that strength that she had walked to the Balamb Hotel. But at the sight of those doors the strength had dissipated and even the thought of having Squall on her side couldn't call up that golden force again. Ten steps away from the door, and Quistis had again paused, listening to that small voice quaking in her heart. It was a disembodied voice, whispering little phrases that sapped her self-confidence. Quistis tried to conjure another voice, someone who would tell her something encouraging…
"Quistis, the meeting is inside the hotel, not out here in the street."
This new voice was so familiar and welcome that Quistis smiled in spite of herself, allowing it to drown out the voice of her doubts. Of course. Xu would be here early – she was Special Commander, Rank A, and in charge of all kinds of defense. She'd do a full perimeter check before Garden Security even showed their faces. And then she'd set the table while everyone else thought they were doing their job. Xu was an amazing woman, and Quistis was suddenly struck with the exciting idea of making Xu her Commander. Giddily she turned around to smile at her best friend.
"You're a twit," Xu said, but affectionately. "Are you really not that sure of yourself?"
Quistis sighed, and finally the last of her doubt allowed itself to be tucked away into the corners of her brain (where it would certainly plague her later, she knew). She had never even thought of going to Xu – which she certainly should have. Xu had been older sister and teacher and guardian all in one. She and Quistis had immediately bonded in their classes (Quistis had tested out of many of her first- and second-year courses) and had been inseparable through all their training. Xu was an orphan as well, and her foster-family life had been much like Quistis's; the two girls found soulmates in each other.
But for all their similarities, they were very different people. Xu had wanted to get in the field immediately, while Quistis had always been oriented towards Instructorship. Xu would never be interested in being a Headmaster, Quistis knew.
What an idiot she had been. Giving Xu a small smile that said, you're-right-I-am-a-twit, she gestured to let the older girl lead her in. "You have to set the table, right?"
Xu's small snort was the perfect response. Her extra security measures were the best-kept secret in all of Garden; 'setting the table' had always been the code phrase for 'securing the area', and both girls knew it.
With Xu at her side and both Cid and Squall behind her, Quistis took those last ten steps and entered the Balamb Hotel.
The mahogany table of the Balamb Hotel grandroom - home of many integral SeeD conferences – was old and worn by years of use. The edges of the table had long since been unevenly smoothed by the constant play of fingers brushing its surface. Dents and scars – it had many – spotted and streaked its surface; but even these had been worn down, no longer sharp but smoothed by the passage of time. Quistis sat, tapping her own fingers against a particularly attractive knot in the wood, wondering if the force which had sanded this table had been – not time, but an overwhelming sense of boredom, which drove idle fingers to prattle away at the mahogany itself.
The meeting hadn't started yet, which accounted for the boredom. They were waiting for the delegation from Trabia Garden, and Headmaster Martine had decided to regale the entire room with one of his stories from FH. Martine – though he could be a wonderful Headmaster – was quite possibly the world's worst storyteller. For what seemed like the umpteenth time Quistis folded her hands neatly in her lap, determined to stop fidgeting.
Being a Headmaster will mean putting up with Martine's stories.
She bit her lip to keep from groaning. Her eyes flickered upwards to scan the room again; all sets of eyes instantly averted themselves (save Martine, who was thoroughly engrossed in telling his story to the table).
This would not do. Everyone was watching her. She'd have to behave.
The doors opened, and Xu approached, her stride long and proud, her portable communicator in one hand. "I've received conformation that the Trabian portion will not be joining us today," she said, the appropriate hint of regret present in her voice. "They had a minor earthquake which resulted in more damage. Headmaster Shain sends his regrets and will meet with each of you at his earliest convenience; but there was no way for him to get away. One of their dormitories suffered some damages."
"Man needs to get his priorities straight," cracked a man that Quistis knew as a financeer; he sat between the Shumis and a light-haired man that looked to be one of Martine's.
"His priorities are straight," Cid replied kindly. "He's a Headmaster, and a dedicated one at that."
"Poor Trabia," Martine commented. "With all their reconstruction troubles, it might be worth thinking about simply constructing another Garden elsewhere."
"Scrapping Trabia?" asked Xu. "They'd never stand for it – least of all Headmaster Shain."
"True," mused a chestnut-haired woman at the other end of the table. "Shain's stubborn as get-out. But it's a question of opportunity cost…"
Quistis listened to the banter; it sounded light and idle, though it was anything but. Around the table sat various members of what Cid had called the Garden Council – a committee consisting of representatives from each of the Three Gardens and their funding interests. The Balamb party consisted of Cid, Xu, and Squall (who had been silent the whole time and appeared to be as bored as she) along with their Shumi investors. Galbadia had sent Martine and his Commander, a man called Era Maxus, along with the chestnut-haired woman; some of the financeers at the other end beside the Shumi could be assumed to be theirs as well. There were three empty seats which Quistis guessed had been designated for the Trabian entourage. The finance people and the lawyers rounded out the other end of the table, as if they knew that their presence was not exactly cheered for.
Cid introduced her, presenting her to the Garden Council as the candidate for Headmastership for Balamb Garden. He handed a folder to Headmaster Martine and passed another down to the end of the table – her credentials, she assumed.
"As you all know," Cid continued, "Garden standard protocol prevents any headmaster from being under the age of twenty-five. Instructor Trepe is nineteen. However, I believe the issue can be dealt with later. Her mission could take anywhere up to a year, and after that she will undergo the obligatory two-year internship. The Garden Council has recently made exceptions to some of the more stringent rules, and I am hoping that we can consider the option of making another."
"Cid, those decisions were under extreme circumstances," said one of the lawyers. "We can examine your case, but I don't think that a desire for early retirement constitutes an early appointment."
"I know, Karya," Cid said to the dark-haired woman. "We can examine such details when the time comes." He smiled. "I'm not asking for them to be reviewed now. I'd rather focus on Instructor Trepe's upcoming mission objectives."
"Ah, yes." Martine looked at his Commander, who produced a thin manila folder. "Mission briefing." Maxus handed the folder to Squall, who placed it atop his similar folder and handed it to Quistis.
She didn't get a chance to open it, because Cid stood up and began to pace in front of the room; she recognized his usual mission-briefing mannerism and remained still. "As everyone in this room is aware, we believe there is a traitor within our midst. Someone at Garden has committed various acts of subterfuge in the hopes of destroying both our resources and our credibility. The mission in question involves tracking down those responsible and dealing with all persons in question."
He looked at Quistis, who had the wherewithal to ask: "Isn't there a mission out already tracing down the perpetrators?"
Cid nodded. "Yes. However, Special Commander Xu has just returned from Deling City, where she and her team conducted a full search." He opened his mouth as if to continue, and then gestured for Xu to give her report to the Council.
Xu stood up, tucking dark silky hair behind one ear – three earrings twinkled – and began her report. "My team managed to trace the sources outside of Garden protocol. We were forced to abandon the trace in order to act on the Kinneas-Tilmitt mission, which took priority as ordered. The details found are included in that folder." She gestured at Quistis. "What we found implies that the funding for these – acts of subterfuge – comes from an external source. There's something larger at hand here." She grinned, and Quistis noted the informal way she addressed the council; very different than Cid. "We had to act on other orders, but I've got a hunch."
Maxus nodded. "In the Galbadia folder, I've included all the traces I did on the two students who are suspect. Maybe some of the information will match up."
"Instructor Trepe, your mission will be to move within and outside Garden to find the people responsible for these acts of subterfuge. I don't mean the cadets involved – we're looking at them – we want you to trace this to its roots. Find out who is behind this and why. Act upon it if necessary. We want this stopped, and we want it stopped now."
Cid's voice was much more forceful than Quistis remembered, and she looked up at him with respect in her eyes. "Yes, sir," she said, hoping her voice would be strong; it was.
"We expect you to act to the best of your ability in all situations. Obedience to Garden protocol will be expected at all times. You are also expected to act on your own, although an emergency channel for a backup request will be made available to you."
Quistis nodded. "Yes, sir," she said. She knew the truth as well as the rest of them: Quistis Trepe worked best alone.
"You will be given free rein of Garden information services," Martine said, "as well as lodging at any Garden. We will cover your travel expenses within reason."
"Yeah, no executive suites, Quis," Xu cracked.
Martine, to her surprise, smiled. "Probably not. You will receive a Garden Account card. We'll review the expenses before processing, and anything deemed inappropriate will be charged to your wages as SeeD. Everything else will be taken care of through our general mission funding."
"How will that work?" asked one of the financiers, a balding man with a low-pitched voice. "Are we expecting any sort of revenue from this mission?"
"Aren't SeeD missions meant to bring in cash, not spend it?" asked another.
Cid turned to them. "This mission is vital to the very survival of Garden," he said, his voice darkening. "It will be funded by Garden – we are commissioning these actions. If expenses get out of range, we will have to rethink things. But this – this is a threat that must be taken care of."
"Oh dear," said the first businessman. "We'll have to rethink our budget."
"We can talk later," Martine offered, in an attempt to shut the man up.
Cid turned back to Quistis. "The rest of your mission details are in that folder," he said. "If you have questions, I ask that you come only to myself or Martine – or Headmaster Shain, once you have met him. Please keep the details of your actions entirely under secrecy."
Quistis nodded.
Well, wasn't this hell in a handbasket. A mission as vague as, "Find the guys responsible and take care of them"? The mission would take the good part of a year, her ass. She was beginning to think she'd be lucky to be done with it before she was twenty-five.
Then again, maybe she'd be lucky. Maybe it was just some random twit with a grudge, and she'd be done.
Somehow she doubted it. Her gut was telling her that the rumors were right – that Xu was right – that Selphie and Irvine were going to be right. There was something nasty behind this all.
The meeting flew after that. Cid finished all the necessary arrangements with the finance folk while Martine and Maxus decided to send word to Trabia. Xu appointed herself in charge of finding Quistis "all the fun gadgets you'll ever need." Squall looked at her, gave her a small smile, and left.
Quistis walked out with Cid. The silence between them was comfortable – not perfect, but close. Cid looked at her and smiled.
"Best of luck, Quistis," he offered.
She smiled back at him. "Thank you, sir – Cid."
***********
Ah. Another long span of time, another chapter (even though nothing super happened, there's some important information and stuff).
It's been busy. Life's crappy, you know? I've always supported the whole idea of 'if life gives you lemons, at least you'll have something to throw at people'. I know a couple people I'd like to peg with a lemon, if only a proverbial lemon.
This chapter was written and posted almost entirely from my bed. Way to go wireless apartment! I know, I'm a nerd – but haw haw! I'm in bed right now and you're (probably) not!!
I appreciate the feedback:
Noacat (thanks so much … and keep writing Angel Wings!); Masked Reviewer (can I call you MR?) - (you stuck around for most of SC, I'll try not to disappoint; "what could have Squall running? Power." – HAHAHAHA. Way too true, and you've hit on an important part of the story!); nynaeve77 (glad you stuck around for this one!); chococat2 (thanks, and I'll be sure to continue); xahra/kate (as if I need to explain Quistis to you ^^; and I agree about RL, have read WAY too many unbelievable drunks and hookups … goony little fangirls need to look up some of that Quistis/Cid pr0n); Winter-Dragon (I find a lot of my stories deals with the way people deal with each other … I totally love interaction); Asphalt Angel (wow! Am I famous?); gauntlet challenge (I'm glad it's believable); Karie (thanks, and stay tuned); Ripley (I'm glad to hear you think like I do; Quistis and I are really very much alike); Caroline (I so totally love feedback on "waves". Thanks a ton! There are some new pages up. My art has evolved so much this summer alone … I promise, I'm not a horrible artist. And I like the new page re-do as well … entirely HTML selftaught b/c I think it's cool).
Blah, I am so random. Usually I don't do thank-yous, so if I forget you, it's only because I'm lazy. I always check my reviews, and they're always meaningful – especially now, when people keep throwing those proverbial lemons at me. Those fucks.
Thanks again, and stay tuned as always.
7th
"rumour has it that she was a former pro wrestler, a stellar babe, and even that she was just totally feline … well, whatever she was, like, she wrote music that kicks rocks"