omg: Reno and Vincent. Www(dot)adventchildren(dot)net - screens. (fangirl drooling)
Those of you who liked the introspection, thank you: the point of my writing is to let us see a little bit more of these poor ignored-by-Square characters, to let us see what goes on in their heads. The point is also to have a whopping good time at it, so for those who would have liked some action, I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. I'm excited about it.
Chapter Thirteen
The Return to the Battle
She'd definitely lost track of the days at this point.
It couldn't have been that long, she knew, nowhere close to like a year, or even a couple months. But it had been disorientingly long enough for her.
Her life was a bizarre schedule of brisk sit-ups, pushups, athletics, and long conversations with the mildew on the ceiling. She'd tried a lot of things. She'd tried talking to the guards; they answered her politely, but with disinterest. She tried breaking out of the door; without Junctioned strength, she knew she'd never get it. She tried bribing random people she saw in the hall, telling them Cid Kramer would make good on any offer; they answered her politely, but with disinterest. Damn.
So she kept to these days, minutes tracked by an internal clock no longer calibrated to real-time, sections of days marked only by disjointed sets of athletics and the inherent sense that time was passing. Her muscles were enjoying this long break from deliberate usage and despite her best efforts, were joyfully atrophying.
Then, one day, the lights went out.
Quistis had been sitting on the floor, her back against the bed. Her senses took the full and sudden plunge into the darkness without warning; she was completely surrounded in the stuff, eyes and ears full of it -
A small trace of terror began to crawl up her spine, fueled by the creepy emptiness of the space under the bed, on the small of her back, where tiny little hands might reach out to grab her -
Freaked, Quistis slowly moved herself up onto the bed, so that her back was pressing up against the wall. The solidity of the plaster against the entirety of her spine was reassuring. Quistis had never really liked the dark: you were never in complete control of yourself or your surroundings. It wasn't that she was scared. Really.
Although the little twingy shivers, and the fact that her hands were clenched into fists, was telling her otherwise. Her heart was pounding, and there was a strange nauseous feeling in her stomach that was something like absolute terror. She was pressing her entire back into the wall with so much force she figured there'd be an imprint of her spinal cord when she moved. If she moved. But with the wall at her back, nothing could sneak up behind her.
She focused on breathing, and on adjusting her eyes to this darkness.
She hated darkness because it was a loss of control. It was a loss of everything that gave her power. She'd grown to hate it with her foster-family, trying to sleep in a dark and unfamiliar room (it had always been unfamiliar, even after years). The pain in her chest and terror in her spine was like a polite form of a panic attack: the fear of the unknown. She loved challenge and mystery, yes: but she loved the ones you could see.
Through the bars that were her door she began to see a hazy, very faint light. Emergency bulbs were lit in alcoves, positioned in increments down the long hallway. Their faint glow was cutting across the darkness.
She couldn't stand not being able to see, so she decided to move over closer to the door. Maneuvering carefully off the bed, she made her way to the door, scooting around the perimeter of the room so that her back never left the wall. Once by the door, she pressed herself up against the wall perpendicular to it. This way she could see into the dimly lit hallway and still have the firm reassurance that her back was unexposed.
It was so silly, but she couldn't help it. And besides: she wasn't really herself after so many constantly-lit days.
There were noises: some strange scufflings which she assumed were Elsevier employees; either Preparing for Trouble or Getting the Hell Out. She heard whispering down the hall, and what sounded like shouting from upstairs.
Then there was a long, drawn-out whine, like from an electric circuit, being gradually but increasingly overloaded, some electronic system reaching its capacity and being driven to excess -
And then a longer, deeper shudder, which shook the entire building. Quistis felt the vibration in the soles of her feet. The whine had died; the halls were silent. The nausea was growing, and she gripped her hands in fists to ward it off. Her brain felt fuzzy and vague. Some major system had just somehow failed; maybe they had been trying to turn the line back on.
She shifted herself, curious in spite of her fear, and moved towards the door.
Her head suddenly filled with static, a strange white noise; but she realized that around it, she could finally feel her GFs again. Encouraged, she took the last step, pressing her forehead against the door. They were clamoring inside her consciousness: she could distinctly pick out the three very different mental signals. There was still some kind of barrier, a buffer, inside the room which prevented her from Junctioning or Summoning - but outside her cell, the barrier had fallen. She supposed the static in her head was the result of the waning field at the edge of her door. It was discomforting, and probably was what made her so nauseous, but the comfort of feeling Shiva once more won out.
So Quistis decided to wait, her head leaning against the bars of her door, the metal warming slowly under her skin. Maybe the anti-magic fields had been overloaded and disintegrated.
Then, suddenly, there was a loud crash which echoed down a stairwell. The crash sounded intensely like battle.
All of her muscles tensed up, her body at the ready, instant response well-trained into her blood and bones. Battle? It was too much to hope for, but maybe someone had finally come to get her out. And even if they weren't here for her, this could be her one chance to make an escape - finally - especially if the anti-GF wards had died.
She was filled with equal parts excitement and desperation. The fear had faded away in her determination to get out.
She kept her eyes trained on where she knew the stairwell was. There were dim flashes of light: gunfire or grenades, maybe, or residue from magic. The light which wove its way through the stairs and down onto her level grew brighter and brighter. Whatever it was, it was coming.
Then, suddenly, the stairwell had blazed up with light; silhouetted against it was a dark figure, which leapt from the stairwell and took a couple cautious steps.
Cautious and familiar steps.
"Squall?"
Shocking Quistis Trepe speechless is one thing, an admirable feat in itself.
Shocking Quistis Trepe into speech is another thing entirely.
Squall looked down at her outburst, a hiss against the sounds of battle behind him, and he brought his wrist up to his mouth. Quistis recognized the delivery of a confirmation message through one of Garden's prized (and expensive) geo-synch communicators.
She had always thought they'd come for her, but somehow she'd expected something a little more - well, diplomatic. Squall breaking in to Elsevier's basement was strangely - espionage-ish. And who was his backup? Did he have backup?
Squall looked up at her, but then turned his gaze back to the glowing stairwell. He stretched out one arm, hand up in his familiar casting stance; but no, he wasn't casting, he was reaching for something.
Someone. Out of the stairwell came a faintly glowing, ethereal form, floating almost on tip-toe, gentle wings outstretched. Her eyes were closed; it was clear that the blaze of light Quistis had seen was residue from one of the girl's more powerful spell concoctions.
Rinoa?
The detached part of Quistis's mind recognized that the girl had slipped into her Berserk'd Limit Break and that, somehow, Squall was guiding her. Probably a function of their Sorceress-Knight bond, it noted.
The rest of Quistis's mind was still staring, its hypothetical jaw dropped.
Squall walked carefully down the hall, Rinoa trailing him, floating behind with her eyes closed. As he approached Quistis's room, he stopped, eyeing the bars on the door. Quistis took two steps back: if he was calculating Lionheart's capability to cut through metall, she didn't want to be a part of it.
But instead, he closed his eyes as well, and made a strange gesture, much like Rinoa's casting gesture; the floating figure behind him echoed it. Quistis heard the electric sizzle of lightning a mere second before the door slid open.
Rinoa had accessed the unlocking mechanism. With her magic. And Squall guiding her.
Quistis couldn't give this any more thought because Shiva seized the opportunity, diving from her dormant recess of hibernation into Quistis's consciousness, dragging Siren and Pandemona with her. The sudden blast of magic was too much for her, along with the shock of the dark and the rescue and - she staggered back to support herself, one hand braced against the wall of the hallway behind her.
Squall, hearing noises from the stairwell, dropped into fighting stance. Rinoa leveled herself behind him and bowed her head, hands outstretched in casting. A thin protective shimmer radiated outward from her until it surrounded both Squall and Quistis, half of a transparent globe.
"What the hell is going on?" Quistis finally managed to ask.
Squall looked over at her, his eyes narrow with determination. "Status report," he said, gesturing to the geo-synch on his wrist; another mission operative must have been on the other end, ready to respond. "WJMS update, Quistis, and now."
She pulled her fragmented thoughts together. "Weapon: missing, confiscated, location unknown. Junction: three-GF alignment, central Junction Shiva, supported by Siren and Pandemona. Magic -" She closed her eyes briefly, scanning the strength of her reserves. "Probably preparation rank eight, with magical junctions leaning right now toward health, strength, and stamina. Supplies: also missing and confiscated."
"Good," Squall said, relaxing his grip on Lionheart momentarily. "Keep Junctions aligned as so: we're here to get you out, so you'd better be able to keep up. As for the others, here."
Quistis noticed Squall was wearing one of Garden's specially developed Battle Packs. It was built like a backpack, but with one large canvas-mylar strap which crossed the chest diagonally from shoulder to waist, with a clasp in the middle not unlike a seatbelt. Research had shown that backpacks were needed for supplies on long journeys, but that the dual straps on a traditional backpack hindered combat. Thus, the single strap, designed to stay close to the body and away from the battle.
Squall unclasped the pack and swung it off his back, handing it to Quistis. "Open it," he said, and for the first time Quistis saw the small hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. There was something protruding from the top, not able to fit entirely in the bag. Quistis undid the zipper the rest of the way and - oh, my.
The protruding piece had been part of a fiberglass-type rod, slightly longer than Quistis's forearm; and as she removed that from the bag she noted the d-ring on the other end with two long tails attached. Eyes widening in surprise, she pulled out the rest of the whip: the tails were a treated sort of black skin, almost scaly, slightly shorter than Save the Queen had been. The scales were mildly sharp; she drew a gloved finger across it and was surprised when it snagged slightly. At the end of each was a cluster of barbs, as if the tail of a rattle-snake had suddenly grown fish-hooks. The ends were weighted, obviously meant to deliver a heavy punch as well as flesh-tearing damage.
"Newest model," Squall said by way of explanation. "It's called the Medusa's Ire. Will it work?"
She lifted it and took an experimental swing; the two tails moved almost in unison, snapping suddenly in the empty hallway. The longer handle would take some getting used to, but a two-handed weapon would have more power to it. The tails were lighter than the Queen had been, but the weights on the end counter-balanced them nicely. She had wanted a dual-tailed model to experiment with for some time now. She swung again, her body pivoting slightly as she took in its exquisite balance and precision.
"Yes," she said grimly, and Squall gave her a small - but complete - smile.
She fastened the Battle Pack onto her back as Squall lifted his wrist to his mouth. "Trepe is armed," he said. "Calling retreat. Be ready."
Squall headed for the stairwell again. There'd been little noise during their brief conversation, and Quistis realized this was because Squall and Rinoa had cut their way through a lot of Elsevier's defenses to get to her level. Rinoa, mostly; she saw charred turrets, smoking monitor cameras, slick hallways, and lots of unconscious employees. Apparently, having Squall to guide her helped the girl to focus her spells - lightning on electric machinery, Sleeps or Stops on humans. It was uncanny.
Quistis swallowed. No wonder Elsevier is after Rinoa. Sorceress Rinoa. Hyne, she was crazy to come here. What if they got her? For a brief second her mind was back on Garden protocol: How will they report this? She wished, half-hopingly, for Trabia's Sensor to come and take a stroll through here; she'd die to read the report on this.
But the upper levels had taken the opportunity to bolster their defenses; there were still only two exits, and they were surrounded by strangely-uniformed soldiers like the strangest police bust in Esthar history. Squall was heading for one, but had stopped, back leaning up against the wall like the world's strangest spy movie. His eyes closed momentarily as he anchored the floating Rinoa around a corner where she couldn't be seen and raised his wristband to his mouth, whispering.
Elsevier has an army? Somehow, she wasn't surprised. It was at least a security squad, but they looked pretty rough - Is that really a grenade launcher? She tightened her grip on Medusa's Ire; it was unfamiliar, but reassuring.
A weapon. She was armed. Squall was here - Rinoa was here - she was going home.
Quistis narrowed her eyes and stared in the general direction of the uniformed Elsevierans as determination swelled in her heart.
Squall gestured, and she approached, leaning in until their foreheads were buzzing with almost-touching static. "Rinoa's Sensing and Ragnarok's scans match," Squall whispered. "There aren't many of them - maybe two dozen. They do seem to be armed."
"Two dozen," Quistis whispered, half in worry and half in anticipation. Two dozen, against three - well, against two and a half. For all her fierceness, she was sorely out of shape, and she knew it.
"Look, just follow Rinoa and I and try not to get hurt," Squall said brusquely, and Quistis bristled as he peeked around the corner again and then closed his eyes, apparently communicating with the Sorceress. Quistis felt suddenly and violently left out - and jealous.
Not of Rinoa, really; not in that way, not any more. But - it was supposed to be the other way around - Squall Leonhart and Quistis Trepe, two Garden prodigies, protecting Rinoa Heartilly, the civilian. Why did she have to stay in the background and not get hurt? All of a sudden Quistis was the one on the sidelines. And as much as the practical half of her wanted to say, look you halfwit you just said yourself you're out of shape: that didn't make it hurt any less...
Squall's eyes opened slowly, gleaming with a battle-hardened look Quistis recognized as very, very dangerous for those on the receiving end. "Ready?" he mouthed to her, more gesture than noise. She nodded, once, briskly.
"Rinoa, go now," Squall whispered.
Rinoa's eyes opened.
From that point Quistis could barely follow what was happening: she felt rather than saw the subtle double glow of Protect and Shell on her skin as Rinoa lit up, even brighter, as if she were on fire. Gleaming in gold and silver, a firework, the Sorceress was suddenly around the corner. There was a quick round of bullets - stopped by Rinoa's outstretched hand in an odd, eerie parody of a parade Quistis had seen once - and then someone yelled, "No, stop shooting! That's the Sorceress!"
Quistis barely had time to register that she was now glowing with even more strength - she recognized the pulse of Haste as well as the dangerous tint of Aura - as Squall pulled her around the corner and yelled, "Go for it!"
Rinoa's eyes were now bleak and empty gleams in her translucent body, and she stretched her arms out, letting a barrage of pure magic hurl itself down the hallway and out the door. Quistis recognized some tactical Sleep and Stop spells mixed in with a good deal of damage; mostly lightning-based. But at that point she and Squall were running after the Sorceress, who was careening down the hallway, almost-running as she floated in midway.
I've never - seen anyone cast - that much - that fast, Quistis's brain panted at her as she ran. This was followed by the somewhat muted thought: Squall is daft to let her take point anyway. What does he think he's doing?
But the Elseverians had stopped shooting -
Oh Hyne, they want her alive. Squall, are you crazy?
Rinoa brought her arms down in one sharp movement and the door exploded outwards in a giant burst of Flare, taking a good portion of the wall with it. She and Squall stumbled out in an afterthought, Squall's normal battle-grace having taken a toll - no, he's busy with Rinoa, Quistis realized.
And then the enemies were upon them. Squall was slashing upright with his blade, and then down, knocking out a second pseudo-soldier with the hilt. Rinoa remained anchored, feeding into their Protect spells as those in the back began to tentatively fire grenades. Quistis took two grim swipes with the Medusa's Ire and then, feeling the Aura spike, let loose a blast of Bad Breath, which left an entire line of soldiers incapacitated.
"Go," Squall called, an invitation rather than a command. She followed, feeling the adrenaline begin to pool in her unused muscles. As if taking a cue from Selphie, Rinoa let loose a long stream of Blizzaga; Quistis lost count after five, raising the long fiberglass handle of her new whip to block a strike and then knock a soldier to the ground.
There was a pause, and Quistis let her own eyes flutter momentarily, calling forth her White Wind. No harm in being overly cautious; and besides, if she remembered correctly, Rinoa was incapable of actual healing when tranced. Although with this new Squall-Rinoa combo she wouldn't be surprised if the girl could still summon. This was unreal.
There was a whirring noise above her, and Quistis's brain recognized the hyperjets of the Ragnarok, hovering above them. Squall looked at her, a directive clear in his eyes: Get Ready. She wasn't sure what their mode of exit would be, but at this point, she'd take anything -
A body collided with her suddenly, knocking her off-balance; she kicked out, flailing against it, but in doing so she dropped the long handle of the Medusa's Ire. Dropped, violently. It went flying off to the right and behind her and in a strange instinctive gesture Quistis reached out and grabbed the tail end (praying the material of her gloves would hold) before it could sail out of her reach.
Surprisingly, the patch her hand landed on was smooth and tailored; she glanced down in surprise, noting a section of the tail had been grafted with sturdy black leather. What?
But the body had, apparently, realized what it had hit, and she felt somebody grab for her again. Out of sheer surprise and luck more than anything she writhed out of his grasp, stuttered steps dodging the man's weight. She felt the whip of the Medusa's ire become taught as the solid handle reached the end of its arc -
Oh. She neatly leapt backwards and swung, watching as the fiberglass handle connected with the man's face, just like a one-ended nunchuck. Her aim wasn't nearly as good as it had been with the whip, but the handle was solid and packed quite a punch. Selphie would have been thrilled. The man went down, and her head shot up, looking for Squall and Rinoa.
"Quistis," Squall yelled, and she spun around -
And then Rinoa's spell hit her, some strange combination of a Float spell and a Gravity spell, and she felt herself flying upwards, her only thought Hyne, I hope Rinoa is controlling this one.
They were pulled up into the cargo bay, and Quistis could actually feel the point in which Rinoa's spell faded and the pull of the Ragnarok took over. The three of them landed very ungracefully on the floor and slid across the room. She heard Squall bark a command, most likely into his wrist communicator, as she remained, half-dazed and counting her limbs. Once she was sure they were all there she rolled over.
Squall was shouting into his wrist (a mildly amusing image), "No, close the door, we're in!", while Rinoa, now directionless, was floating off towards the still gaping opening at the end of the chamber.
"Squall!" Quistis yelled, and together the two of them leapt to their feet and grabbed Rinoa's arms.All Quistis could remember of the point where she touched Rinoa was a blinding, consuming static mixed with large amounts of panic; close to that which she had felt in her cell, only magnified. She almost dropped the girl's arm in shock, but gritted her teeth. Rinoa was surprisingly forceful, almost heavy, for someone floating in midair.
But then in another instant Rinoa collapsed onto the ground (and partially onto Squall and Quistis, as the Sorceress had crumpled in their direction). The glow around her faded and now it was just Rinoa, quiet, silent.
Quistis met Squall's eyes over the unconscious body of his lover. Wordlessly, Squall hoisted himself to his feet and picked Rinoa up in his arms.
Quistis followed them into one of Ragnarok's smaller rooms, where Squall gently lay Rinoa down on a cot. Someone had turned the room into an imitation of the SeeD car on the train - Quistis suspected young miss Tilmitt - and she and Squall both collapsed onto nearby couches.
His wrist buzzed. "Yes, Nida, we're in," Squall said patiently. "Balamb."
He was sitting, trying to look at ease, but every few seconds his eyes were drawn towards Rinoa's still form. Quistis was surprised that he wasn't over near her, but she guessed that Squall was trying to be respectful and dignified and manly. He wasn't panicking, which meant (probably) that something like this had happened before and that Rinoa would be fine; no, it was just normal, everyday Squall Leonhart worrying without looking attached.
Quistis sighed. The incredulity of her situation was beginning to sink in. She was safe - she was going home. And she'd been saved by Squall and Rinoa, which would require some proficient grace and a tall helping of humble pie.
She looked up at Squall to ask him something - anything - but his eyes were on Rinoa again, and she simply said: "Will she be alright?"
Squall turned his eyes down onto his hands. "Yeah, I think so."
At least Quistis was familiar with this game. She prompted him with a question: "What happened?"
"Some kind of reaction." He glanced over, and then sat up straight and looked at Quistis. "Something happened when she walked through the Elsevier sensors."
"Hm," Quistis said. "The magic dampers?"
"Maybe," Squall said. "Didn't feel like that, though."
A slight pause, and then Quistis asked, "What did it - ah - feel like, then?"
Squall realized the intimacy of his words; his eyes flared with brief anger at Quistis's inadvertent teasing. Luckily, he answered. "It was like they were going after her, but she was too much for them to take." He paused, thinking, and gave Rinoa a long, clear look before finishing. "She overloaded something, though, some kind of circuit."
"Yeah, I felt that," Quistis said, identifying the whine and shudder she had experienced. "My GFs came back after that - well, kind of - and so I bet she did overload the magic dampers, somehow."
Squall shook his head, still looking at Rinoa. He was like this: not close-mouthed, necessarily, if you were willing to wring it out of him. However, you sure did have to wring. Quistis was used to it. And Squall was, at least, trying.
"So what happened before?" she asked, curious. "Why - how did you guys know to come? I was trying to find a way to get in touch with you, but I couldn't get anywhere."
"We had two signs," Squall said. Quistis looked at him inquisitively.
"First," he said, his deep voice pitched low (probably for the pseudo-sleeping Rinoa), "we had a visit from Headmaster Shain, who came to town for Selphie's benefit banquet."
Quistis knew what was coming; Squall, to his credit, only smirked as he said, "Shain says he had all of your bags and was very concerned as to why you hadn't come back for a change of clothing."
She shook her head. "I couldn't exactly carry them around Esthar, could I, now?"
"He was worried," Squall said. It was enough to make her smile, strangely; Shain, worried over her. "So we were running up your last couple transmissions and reports to see if we could figure you out."
"And?" She drummed her fingers on the seat. "The second piece?"
Squall was staring: not at Rinoa, but off in the distance. His eyes were full of a muted anger. "There was this email," he said.
His voice was so angry and upset that Quistis got a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. "What kind of email?"
He shook his head slightly. "It almost got deleted," he said. "Spam filter. It just had this one line..."
His eyes flicked over to Rinoa then, and Quistis softly said, "And?"
Squall looked up then to meet her gaze with his own steely one. "One line. 'Sorceress Rinoa Heartilly for Instructor Quistis Trepe.' And an address."
"What?" Quistis's fists slammed into the couch beside her. "Oh, gods. This is all my fault. Squall -"
"Hey," Squall said, forcefully, almost angrily. "I didn't mean for her to come, okay? My plan was to dispatch the Special-Ops, delete the email, and get you back home in time for tea."
She couldn't quite explain the feeling of guilt. "But what happened?"
Squall looked down at his hands again, and a rueful smile flickered across his face. "She was reading over my shoulder," he admitted, and Quistis had to laugh.
"But," he continued, still looking at his hands. "She - she, uh, thought she owed you one. There was a kidnapping attempt on her, one of the weekends she went to see Caraway. And because of your warning she'd - asked her father to set up an extra guard."
"Oh." Quistis was silent. This didn't really help the feeling of guilt; it was still her fault that Rinoa had been dragged into all this.
"She was about to run off on her own on some miraculous rescue adventure." Squall was rubbing his hands over his face now, clearly tired and worried. "And so we compromised - she could be part of the rescue if she didn't run off and do something stupid."
"You staged a switch," Quistis said, understanding now. "Brought her in, as if you were going to make the trade." Squall nodded in confirmation. "Huh," she continued. "I bet it caught them off-guard that you had agreed to the deal."
"The original plan was to distract them while the Special-Ops slipped in the back," Squall said. "But then we went through the front gate..."
"And the fireworks went off," Quistis said, motioning to Rinoa.
Squall nodded. "We've been - training," he said, not wanting to divulge any more details. "I've been - I can help her control it." His voice, usually strong, was strangely hesitant.
"I saw," Quistis said. "You guys made an amazing team."
The gratitude in her voice was honestly meant, and the sting she'd felt at being the rescued, not the rescuer, faded away.
It was her turn to talk. "Squall," she began, "we need to call a Balamb council meeting. Garden Council, maybe, but I don't want this information to get too far. We should do it tonight, really, or first thing tomorrow-"
"Fat chance," said a very weak voice. "Tomorrow's Selphie's banquet, and there's no meeting that'll let you get out of it."
Rinoa was hauling herself upright on the cot; Squall, moving faster than battle, was at her side, his arm supporting her back as she sat up.
"Oog," Rinoa said intelligently. "I feel like I've been dragged backwards through D-City." Her voice was weak, but full of humour; she leant her head on Squall's shoulder. "You okay, Quistis?"
The blonde nodded crisply, and smiled. " Sure thing. Thanks. You okay, Rinoa?"
Rinoa smiled sleepily back at her. "I think so. Ugh. All my muscles are filled with - whatever, the after-ness of magic, what's that called?"
"Aftermath, or Residue," Quistis said automatically. "Yeah, you'll be stiff for a while."
"Don't I know it," Rinoa said, but coming from the girl it wasn't a correction or criticism; just a comment. "It'll be okay, though. Dr Kadowaki says my system metabolizes magical stuff about ten times faster than the average SeeD." She giggled softly. "One of the - few - perks to being a Sorceress."
Quistis wondered that, after the fascinatingly devastating operation she had just seen, Rinoa could make jokes. Perhaps the girl deserved a little more credit than she was normally given.
They reached Balamb shortly after; Squall helped Rinoa out of the Ragnarok while Quistis was greeted by Pilot Nida and three SeeD she recognized from Special-Ops. The sight of Balamb Garden, all glowing rings and pride, was the final realization: she was home. The adrenaline and stress in her muscles was beginning to fade, and exhaustion and aftershock was beginning to creep in. Quistis knew she needed a nap, and a shower; and soon. The tiredness was hitting her like a T-Rexaur.
"Wait." Squall reached out, turned her around; he scrambled around in the battle-pack for a while before pulling something out and zipping it back up. "Here," he said. It was a Balamb ID, marked for temporary access. "Do you still have yours?"
"Everything's gone," she replied, wistfully thinking of Save the Queen.
"Bed," Squall said to her, his arm still around Rinoa as he helped the tired Sorceress along. "That's an order. You can get checked out by Kadowaki tomorrow."
He didn't have to tell Quistis twice. They split up; Squall walking Rinoa down towards the cafeteria, Quistis heading directly for her dormitory. Luckily she passed no-one in the halls. She wasn't quite in the mood for Selphie at the moment, or even Xu.
The door opened and closed behind her with a sound of finality. Quistis looked around her room with extreme pleasure. Talk about a sight for sore eyes. And a sore back. And a very sore mind.
Within approximately thirty-seven seconds all of Quistis Trepe's clothing lay in a neat pile on the bed, the coffee-pot was gurgling, and Quistis herself was in the midst of taking the hottest shower in the history of Balamb Garden.
She washed her hair three times, her face twice, and used half a bottle of conditioner and an entire travel-sized bottle of shower gel. After that she just stood in the shower, letting the scalding water beat away at the stiffness in her shoulders and back, letting heat and comfort and relief seep into her tired body.
There was so much to do. She had to gather up evidence to present. Try to talk Squall into having his meeting tomorrow instead of the next day. Get cleared by Kadowaki. Head back to the Training Center, not only to beat her muscles back into shape but to learn the quirks of the Medusa's Ire. Figure out Seifer. Get her bags back from Shain. But that was all outside of her shower, and she didn't want to move.
A fine example of one of those times where so much weighs on the mind that the mind says simply, screw this, and dumps it all on the floor.
Eventually, Quistis emerged from her bathroom, skin bright pink and burning. She wrapped herself in an assortment of butter-yellow towels and a creamy fleece bathrobe, relishing in being able to wear something that wasn't her battle-gear. The room smelled of fresh coffee, delicious and familiar.
She fell backwards onto the bed, towels and robe askew, submerging herself in the safety of her own room and the smell of coffee and the feeling of warmth.
Within thirty-two seconds, Quistis Trepe was asleep.
haha, sorry about the long delay. i mean, it was already
long, but the chapter was ready to be up last week and my account
got suspended. (blush) they took away my script fic.
guess those got illegal when i wasn't looking. oh well, many
apologies, didn't mean any harm. and now i'm back!
Mirrorfeather has grown wings, a tail, and two more movements: your comments appreciated. Shameless, am I.
Man, I owe lots and lots of thank-yous. From Ch11 onward:
Sarady - (11) A lot of people liked the GFs - I'm glad, cause I'm having fun with them. (12) I think poor Quistis is very confused.
Shortey - (11) thank you, so much. (As for the pairing ... um ...well if you really want to ask, feel free to email me :P ) (12) HAHAHA. Yes, surprisingly, I am a LOT like Quistis, enough that it's strange (blond girl with glasses who has always been a little too 'mature/old' and ends up being everyone's teacher. It's uncanny). And Seifer will be back in ... umm ... if not the next chapter, then the one directly after. He still has a part to play... ;)
Enkida - muuuuuchos gracias for the review-spam - what a great compliment! Maybe I should just write you an email, there's too much in your comments for me to comment on/respond to! It would take a whole page. Anyway, THANKS!
Melete - I try to throw in little details to make this my own little world. (And yes, I confess: Seifer is innocent. Or as innocent as he can be. Which really isn't. But I haven't done anything to him!)
Pierson - Hi! And thank you
chococat2 - (11)I'm just discovering the evil of cliff-hangers ...I hate them ...but I can't help myself... (12) aie, such a compliment! If you like this style you should try reading Robin McKinley - she is my goddess and I try to model her as much as humanly possible without plagarizing her work ;)
Nynaeve77 - (11) Hi to you! Hopefully I'll get around to filling in that dream sequence; I liked making Quistis go clubbing, it seems like her idea of hell, honestly. (12) Someone bench-pressed ME once, it wasn't very pleasant. And I like introspective Quistis because, as you said, I think it scares her a lot.
Noacat - (11) tee ...it's so nice to have loyal supporters! (12) And yeah, my cat is just so nosy. If only I could teach her to type then she could update for me, but alas. I just didn't want to lose the introspect angle like (i feel) i did in SC.
Thugstra - the dream-scene was part fun and part meaningful, so don't explode that brain just yet :P
Dominus - (11)a couple people didn't like Era ...hmmm ...am I too obvious? ;) (12) thank you :)
CWolf2 - (11) I'm trying to keep you in suspense. (12) Wow, I'm honored. But a lot of those other stories are crap, aren't they? ;);)
Rachel1 - I loved reading your reviews as you went through the story, it was really cool to see ... (12) Hopefully this chapter had enough action!
Peachy Papayas - So many people like Shain, I'm so glad. And you and Rachel caught my mistake. Again: this is why seventhe should not write at the wee hours in the morn...
GhandiOwnsYou - Haha, thank you! I love Xahra's fics, she's so brilliantly sarcastic. I'm glad I got you "hooked". Hope you'll stick around til the end!
Xan318 - Thank you, I am shameless and love all compliments
Apple Pie - Wow, it's nice to see you around again. :) I like playing with introspective, especially with characters that aren't mine.
Until next time, which will hopefully come much more quickly. I'm kind of getting my groove back with this one. MF was a pleasant distraction. Let's see if I can wrap this baby up...
Pura vida,
seventhe and rydia, the kitty cat of dooooooooooom