Disclaimer: I make no claim whatsoever to the characters or world of Final Fantasy VIII, which is the property of Squaresoft/Square Enix.
Chapter III
Irvine sat on the wall of the Garden Quad, long legs dangling over the edge, reckless and unbothered by the yawning drop down to the ground, his back to the half-dismantled Garden Festival stage. He hated the goddamned sight of it. The stage screamed Selphie to him. It stood for everything Selphie had loved, and everything she had suddenly, inexplicably lost.
Since that day in Dollet, he had watched with bewilderment as Selphie changed overnight from her effervescent, cheery self - Irvine's own personal ray of sunshine, he liked to think - to a detached, cynical person who didn't appear to give a Grat's ass about anything at all. And now, even worse, she was gone.
He hadn't sat moping about it for long, though. Maybe a day or two. After that, he focused his energy on trying to work out where the hell Selphie had gone to. Irvine contacted her friends in Trabia, who seemed utterly shocked to hear that Selphie had left SeeD. So that was a dead end. He made discreet inquiries in Dollet, wondering if the inherited magic had pulled Selphie back to Hasberry Castle. No luck there. The Duke, apparently delighted with SeeD's work, had already set about restoring the castle to its former glory. Irvine made sure his old contacts in Deling City, Timber and South Galbadia were told to prick their ears up to any gossip about an ex-SeeD Sorceress roaming about. He waited, and as the days passed without any word, he realized that he was done waiting.
Squall buzzed him into the Commander's office without meeting Irvine's eye. He hadn't looked Irvine in the eye since accepting Selphie's resignation, come to think of it. Which meant that Squall felt almost as bad about the whole thing as Irvine did.
He propped his ankles up on Squall's desk, taking less enjoyment than usual in the scowl that action elicited. "So, Commander. Thing is, I want to take some personal leave."
Squall reached forward and pushed Irvine's heels off the edge of the desk. "Is this about Selphie?"
"Yeah. I want to go lookin' for her."
"Selphie's coming back. Just give her time." Squall shook his head and returned to the computer screen. "I won't grant leave for now, Irvine. I need you on the roster."
"But-"
"No. That's my answer."
Irvine knew right away that Squall wouldn't budge. He sighed dramatically, to no response, and swept out of Squall's office to find Rinoa.
She was in the library, crouching on the floor next to one of the stacks, running her finger along the spines of the bottom row in the History section. Irvine watched as she stopped at a thick, cloth-bound volume titled The Fall of Centra, and slid it carefully out of the shelf.
"Irvine, I know you're looming over me. No-one else's shadow has a hat like yours," she said without turning round.
He crouched down to join her. "Think there's anythin' in here about where sorceresses go when they're pissed off?"
"She wasn't pissed off."
"What the hell's going on with her, then? She wasn't even Sefie anymore."
Something in his words made Rinoa flinch, and she straightened up, clutching the heavy tome to her chest. He stood too, towering over her.
"Don't say that."
"S'true though. It was like someone crept into her bed and stole her skin."
Rinoa frowned and drew her arms more tightly around the library book. "I think it's a temporary reaction, to the shock. It's hard to explain how much it changes you. She... She'll be back, Irvine. Squall's certain of it."
"What about you? You 'certain' too?"
She gazed into the mid-distance for a few moments, then nodded. "Yeah. I think she'll adjust to her powers, and come back. We've got to trust her."
Trust her, he thought. That's the problem. I trust Sefie. I don't trust whatever's gotten inside her.
The first night was dark, moonless. The first night of her freedom.
She headed west, and then south, to the lands that called out to her, saving most of her traveling for the dead of night. With the sky pitch black and no soul in sight, she could soar further, faster each time, laughing in delight at the forceful headwinds that rushed against her skin.
Her wings, gray, spiky little things, beat harder and stronger as they remembered their purpose, and she reveled in it. Wings that had been dormant for a lifetime, long before the birth of this new vessel. The one that had been called Selphie Tilmitt, once, but no longer. Oh, she was still there, little Selphie, somewhere underneath; confused, excited, still so drunk on the first flush of magic that the seeds of fear and regret were barely planted. She would notice them soon, perhaps. They usually did.
And when that happened, she would be crushed. The magic was always stronger than the vessel.
Always.
Her feet touched the ground, old familiar earth that had welcomed her in a different life, so far in the past now. How many vessels had it been since then?
I am here, she said, sinking her fingernails into the wet grass, and the land sang its ancient song in jubilation at the return of its cherished daughter.
Irvine lay sprawled on his dorm bed, Selphie's old faded yellow sundress in his hands. She was right about one thing. He was sentimental. He brought the fabric close to his nose and inhaled tentatively. It smelled like her. Floral soap and... Selphie-ness.
Don't cry, you goddamn fool, he told himself, blinking, as he folded the garment carefully and slid it into his bedside drawer.
He almost jumped out of his skin at the aggressive rapping on the door. Irvine plastered a smile on his face as he crossed the room, and swung the door open, his arms wide in welcome.
"Quisty! How was Esthar?"
She wasn't fooled by his grin. Mind you, she never was. Quistis stood expressionless in the doorway, her icy eyes boring into his.
"It's not often I'm blessed with such a beautiful woman visitin' my quarters. What can I do you for?"
Quistis let out a cry of rage and tore Irvine's hat off his head, throwing it down to the floor as she pushed past him, the door slamming in her wake.
"Don't give me any of your shit, Irvine Kinneas!"
Irvine readjusted his hair and gave her his best charming smile. "If you're tryin' to seduce me, can we slow it down a notch? I've never been a big fan of aggression in foreplay."
Quistis strode over to where Irvine's Exeter rifle was propped against the wall, seized it and aimed it at the floor. "Knock off your ridiculously labored ladies-man act right now, or I swear to you, I will shoot your hat." She released the safety catch on the rifle and glared at him menacingly.
Yikes. If she was mad enough to take his stetson hostage, she was seriously mad. Irvine held up both hands and backed slowly towards his bed.
"Let the hat go, Quisty."
"I'm warning you, Kinneas. No funny business."
"Understood, ma'am." He threw in the SeeD salute for good measure.
She sighed, clicked the safety back on the rifle and returned it to the wall. Irvine couldn't help appreciating the care with which she did so. Even when she's angry, she always knows how to treat a fella's weapon with respect, he thought, and smirked as a lewd double meaning to that sentiment occurred to him. He was about to voice it when one glance from Quistis told him that his hat, and possibly his kneecaps, would never be the same again if he did.
"What's this I hear about Selphie leaving?" she demanded. "And you and Squall just letting her go? Are you men or moogles?"
"What choice did we have? My opinion's never made any difference to Sefie, and Squall can't force her to stay. You know as well as anyone that SeeDs have the right to resign at any time. Gar-"
"Yes yes, Garden Code Article 5, line 1. I've just had Squall quoting it at me. You're as useless as each other. Did you even try talking to her? Listening to her?"
"Course I did!"
"Then you should have-"
Irvine cut her off with a louder tone of voice than he was used to hearing from himself. "Quisty, has it escaped your attention that I've loved her my whole damn life?"
She stared at him as he bent to pick up his hat and jammed it firmly back on his head.
"Has, hasn't it? Well, I do love her. More than anythin'. So I don't need you lecturin' me."
"What are you going to do about it, then? She's gone."
"I've got a plan, okay? I'm gonna find her. I've put the feelers out. I'm not sittin' on my ass doin' nothin'."
"Anything so far?"
"No, but-"
"Then I'll help in any way I can." She took a seat on his bed and looked up at him expectantly. "Now tell me exactly what happened in Hasberry Castle. Don't leave any details out."
Irvine recounted the mission as best he could, and found Quistis staring at him in horror at the end.
"And the castle was abandoned around the fall of the Holy Dollet Empire?"
"That's what the Duke said, yeah."
"Then we have to assume that the Sorceress was lying there, half-dead, alone, for a whole century."
"Well, I guess."
Quistis' face was white, even under the light Esthar tan she'd picked up during her mission. "Irvine. Can you even imagine how broken her mind must have been?"
"I mean, it sucks, but..."
"Think! All that pain and despair, a hundred years of it, flowing into Selphie! How on earth do you think that will affect her?"
Shit. Shit. "But- But Rinoa was fine after she took on Adel's powers-"
Quistis gave a heavy sigh. "I have a feeling that none of us know how hard Rinoa works to make it seem like she's 'fine'."
"You don't think she's okay?"
"No, I don't. But that's between her and Squall. It's not our business. The point is, Selphie's taking all this on alone, and we don't know where she is."
Irvine stared at the wall behind her. Why didn't you let me be your knight, Sef? I would've- You know I would've...
"We have to take action, Irvine. Quickly."
He agreed with her, and let her talk until she was ready to leave. Quistis' idea of a plan mostly seemed to involve asking Squall to take charge, to send squads of SeeDs out looking for Selphie. Irvine didn't bother interrupting to tell her that Squall's mind was already made up. His thoughts were racing too fast. This was down to him now. He'd do the job of Selphie's knight whether she wanted it or not.
He crashed back onto his bed after Quistis left. Irvine was so deeply buried in his thoughts that it took a while for him to register the faint buzzing that emanated from under his mattress.
Leaping off the bed, he shoved his arm in the tight gap to wrestle out his old G-Army comms device, untraceable and so far undetected by Garden security. It was his one remaining link to Galbadia and had remained a complete secret, even from his friends. Even from Selphie. Although Irvine had taken the SeeD exam and pledged allegiance to Garden in the past year, he wasn't stupid. A man needed to keep his options open. Always.
He flipped the receiver open. The ID sign of the incoming call belonged to Jordy, a former member of Irvine's G-Army regiment. Jordy had been medically discharged after sustaining injury in the Battle of the Gardens, and was now a traffic cop in Deling with a few less-than-legal sidelines on the go.
"Kinneas. Go ahead."
"Hey." Jordy's deep voice sounded breathy, the thrum of a car engine in the background. "The little matter you asked me to keep my eyes open for? There might be a development."
Irvine's fingertips, suddenly sweaty, slipped against the handset. "Whereabouts?"
"Abandoned temple in the boonies of Timber, out towards Shenand. Old Hyne cult. I can give you coordinates. Got a pen?"
Irvine held the comms unit against his ear with a hunched shoulder as he rifled through the drawer of his desk for a notebook and pen. "What information have you heard? And what sources?"
"Sources are local farmers and a bunch of kids. The gist of it was... wild-eyed girl, mighty pissed when anyone comes in the temple, throwing blue lightning around. Looks cute, but scares the shit out of the locals."
Jordy reeled off the coordinates, and Irvine jotted them down.
"I'll check it out. Thanks, Jordy."
"Pleasure. Take care out there, Irv."
Irvine terminated the call, and stared down at the numbers on the pad. At last, he had something real. Something concrete that could lead him to Selphie.
"Blue lightnin', huh?" he said out loud. "Hold still, darlin'. I'm on my way."
He folded up the paper, placed it in his pocket, and set about getting himself ready for the road.