Chapter 17 - "Of Boxes and Ink"
By Skandranon
The Estharian deportment barge landed at Balamb at 3:08 in the morning on March 8th. The door swung open with a clinking of gears, to show Quistis Trepe, Asst. Headmistress of Balamb Garden, waiting patiently at the dock with a politely disgruntled expression and a clipboard in hand. She kept her back straight and her hands folded, her chin high and her eyes sharp.
She didn't look too pleased to see them playing fisticuffs.
"I'm too old for this," she declared, and marched forward and slapped them both across the cheeks. It was a wonderful distraction, and he and Irvine gaped at her, bruised and breathing heavily. "You're both on detention leave until further notice. You will stick to the Garden and be the perfect models of civility, or I will have you writing finance reports until your arthritis kicks in. You will be receiving full physicals and PTSD exams the moment we get home, then you will be receiving psych evaluations, then you will be retaking SeeD Conduct 301 again, and you will be demoted in rank if you fail it."
Oh Hyne no I'm not. That's what I've been putting up with this bastard in order to avoid. Squall made as if to argue, but Irvine recognized her severity and stopped him with a kick to the ankle.
She turned with a flip of the hair and stalked back to the car as Selphie bounded into Irvine's arms and smothered him with kisses. "I love you you're okay! You're okay and I missed you – is that a hickey? Is that a HICKEY!" Irvine received another slap. "You bastard! Who was it! Some rich old floozy noble lady at the Ball? Is that why Squall went nuts? You bastard! I love you!" She seized his head and forcibly kissed him. "You're in so much trouble but I love you and I want to hold the wedding tomorrow!"
Oops. He finally took in their appearance, and realized that some of the… whatever that was… had left marks. "Um." Squall cleared his throat. "Not his fault. He tried to turn …her down, but… she wouldn't take no for an answer."
Irvine blinked a dozen or so times at that, probably shocked at Squall standing up for him. Selphie immediately began reclaiming him with hickeys of her own, chattering about how brave and true and wonderful he was, and how quickly a priest could be gotten if you knew who to call.
Quistis shook her head. "Sorry, Selphie, but wedding plans will have to wait until after I'm through punishing them for all the hassle they're putting me through."
Selphie whined and whimpered as they all climbed into the car, and Irvine whapped Squall's shoulder repeatedly until he fastened his seatbelt, and Quistis helped herself to some Advil and then defended the bottle from attempts to borrow it. The driver took them along the peaceful streets towards the town exit and the road beyond to Garden.
"So, in order to keep the peace until we get there, tell me how your mission went and I'll pretend not to be furious with you."
Irvine waved a hand vaguely. "Baddies captured us, we killed them, then we walked to Esthar."
"Walked to Esthar?"
"His fault," Squall mumbled.
Irvine growled something about "bright idea" and "punch bowl", but did it low enough that he couldn't catch the words.
The recap was lengthened, but Squall stopped paying attention after that. Life was too complicated lately for him to focus on so many things. And right now it was all he could do to keep his head straight.
Irvine said I might have PTSD. Do I? If feel sane now, but I get so angry, and so miserable…am I going nuts? Would I notice if I did?
About time you caught on.
Shiva? Why weren't you talking to me earlier? I'm sorry if I did som-
Stop that. An icy sigh rippled through him. Of course you didn't do anything wrong, you lovely idiot. I don't know why, but you couldn't hear me when I spoke to you.
I didn't know that was possible.
Neither did I. Somehow the connection between us was blocked. Squall, do a favor for me?
Anything.
Get a CAT scan.
Quistis clicked her pen tip in and out sharply. "Anyway. That reminds me. Your barge was very slow. While you were on your way here, Cid had time to take the Ragnarok to Esthar and apologize on your behalf, and return with gifts. One of which is this." She tapped a large cardboard box seated beside her. Around the top were neat holes, and written on the side in curly, green letters was You left before I could give this to you. Had fun at the party! Hope you come to see us for Hynelight. – LL
Irvine chuckled. "After everything we did, Laguna sends you a present. I like him."
"He sent... a box." Squall numbly tried to come to terms with the fact.
The box rattled.
"A box that moves," Irvine clarified.
A shiny black nose stuck through one of the holes and snuffled the air.
"And the contents are alive." This should terrify me, right?
"Open it!" Selphie giggled.
I don't get that man. I create a diplomatic nightmare, and he sends me… this… thing. I'm not sure if this is supposed to be a reward or a punishment, actually.
Considering Laguna, I'd say a reward. He has a funny sense of humor.
Funny isn't the word I'd use.
"OPEN IT," Selphie insisted, with all the intensity of a child awaiting a surprise. Irvine shrugged helplessly, in a manner that strongly encouraged doing as the girlfriend wished.
"If it bites me…" he grumbled, and tore the tape off the top. Before he could lift the flaps, they pushed themselves up to reveal a furry, curious face, set with a pair of huge almond black eyes.
"Cuuuute…" Selphie whispered.
Oh no. It's…
The tiny critter crawled out to perch on the lid, its claws digging into the cardboard. It shook its red fur with shivering motions, and whirred a soft sound.
…a moomba.
A moomba kitten, Shiva clarified.
Selphie reached out, mesmerized, to pet it. Its eyes riveted to her, and before Squall could warn her, it had sunk its teeth in her palm.
Seconds later, Squall found himself and the others playing hot potato with the furball, tossing it away from them as it tried to bite, only to have it land on another person. Selphie just screamed and clutched her hands. Finally, it landed back on the box, where it clung to the side, murring timidly.
Quistis tried to calm down the brunette by explaining moomba culture. Squall stared at his thumb bitterly. A drop of blood was welling up on it.
He sent me the thing. It's going to recognize him. Any second now it's going to-
The kitten launched itself in a flying leap towards his face with a triumphant "RA-GOOOOO-Na!"
Ink everywhere.
The fuzzball had all the hyperactive tendencies of a child. It scampered everywhere, it explored everything, and it chewed all Squall's pens. Ink everywhere. Papers everywhere. Fur. Everywhere.
It was terribly adorable, when you got right down to it.
Currently the little critter was happily disorganizing the contents of Squall's desk and leaving little black pawprints on the carpet. Squall was rubbing his forehead. Quistis was trying not to be amused, and Selphie wasn't trying.
Since no one else bothered, Irvine found himself regulated to keeping the moomba from destroying anything too irreplaceable. He herded it away from the rare books with distracting pieces of bright string. When it got that look that suggested leather swivel desk chairs would make wonderful chew toys, Irvine scratched its belly until it blissfully forgot. He tried to save the paperwork, but negotiating his way around Squall, who had been leaning against the desk, lost him the precious time that could have salvaged them.
Squall was being more of an obstacle than usual. He kept dazedly wandering into Irvine's path, then glaring as if it were his fault. Irvine tried to ignore him and focus on the task at hand, which was to keep the pet mischief free while the adults talked.
"Extreme mood swings, violent or depressive tendencies, inability to focus… well, it does sound somewhat like PTSD, but I'm not convinced." Kadowaki scratched her chin thoughtfully. "I'd like to run you through some tests. Bloodwork, x-rays, the general lot. You say you had difficulty communicating with Shiva?"
Squall nodded wearily. He'd dropped into an apathetic lull once the news of his suicide attempts had gotten out.
"The nearest magic health detection equipment is in Deling. If we can't find a solution on our own, I suppose we can send you down there to get examined." The doctor didn't look too pleased at having a patient taken out of her hands, but if it came down to that, she'd send him on his way without a second thought.
"Until there is a solution," Cid mused, "I think it best you stay off active duty, and be confined to the D restricted areas of Garden. No Training Center, no Weapons Range, and no access to Garden files… just in case."
The moomba caught its claws in the carpet and frantically thrashed about. Irvine pinned it down and attempted to untangle the mess.
It's for the best, Squall, just go with it, Irvine silently urged. This would be an unpleasant time for one of Squall's more aggressive moodswings to kick in.
"Fine," Squall grumbled, but without any hostility to back it up. The kitten tried to scamper towards him at the sound of his voice, with eager chirps of "Ra-Goo-na! Ra-Goo-na!", but Irvine's hold on the critter prevented Squall from earning some more clawholes in his pants.
Selphie watched his efforts with wide, enthralled eyes, distracted from her 'my fiancé's back!' celebration by the only thing more important to her: cute and fuzzy. She was keeping her distance, though, after the first impression in the car.
Of all the things he could be doing right now, this wasn't anywhere on either his best or worst case scenario list. He had things he should be thinking about. His fiancée wanted to get married immediately. He had… cheated? On her with Squall. With a guy, of all things. Squall was going off the deep end. There were other "must think about" things lurking in the back of his head, but at the moment, all he could really concentrate on was how stupid he had to look laying prone on the floor in puddles of ink, wrestling with an armful of orange fur.
Cid shuffled the papers in his lap, one of which had to be Squall's "leave of absence for medical reasons" form. "I'm placing you under Irvine's supervision for the duration of your treatment."
"What," Kadowaki blinked.
"What! No!" Selphie moaned. "No no no! I need Irvine for the wedding! Caterer to hire! Invitations to print! Irvine! You haven't done your boyfriend duties!"
"It is a bit… unconventional," Quistis mused. "Usually patients with mental complications are placed under the care of a therapist or doctor, and Irvine is neither."
Cid shrugged and tried to hide a smile. "Well, he's done a bang up job so far. Convinced me to send Squall with him on two missions in a short span of time."
That earned him a cold stare. "Cid… I thought we discussed that." Quistis stated. "You gave all control over mission stats to Xu and me, remember? You aren't supposed to make any changes without consulting us."
"Is that so?" Cid pretended to be surprised. "Oh yes, that's right, so silly of me to forget. Ah well, no point worrying over it now. Irvine, good luck with Squall, I'll be sure to check up on you two later. If you'll excuse me." And with that he wandered off, with Quistis arguing with his back.
Irvine kept his opinion to himself and stayed out of the affairs of the higher ups, but inwardly he was grinning. Sometimes I think the old senile fool is not as senile or foolish as he wants us to think he is.
Quistis and Kadowaki followed their Headmaster out, leaving the others to their own thoughts. Selphie pouted with tiny whimpering noises. Squall pouted in a much more masculine way. Irvine looked up at both of them, and honestly couldn't tell who looked cuter.
"Fine." Selphie hugged her arms with a snort. "Fine. Have fun. Whenever you're done babysitting, you can find me at the ALTER." Wincing at her own harsh words, she ran out.
Irvine rolled over so he could properly glare at the heavens. "Why me?"
Squall kicked him. "Stop exaggerating."
The moomba took advantage of Irvine's distraction and wiggled out of the hold, leaping jubilantly towards its master chanting "Ra-goo-na-ra-goo-na-ra-GOOOO-Na!" It shimmied up his pantleg to climb into his shirt.
The Commander of Balamb Garden collapsed to the floor snickering and gasping "No tickling! Bad Grrface! Irvine! Help!"
Irvine settled in to watch the show. "Uh-oh. Looks like big bad Leonhart has met his match. Oh no, someone save him from the horrible fluffy kitten! If only I had a camera… wait… Grrface?"
Author's Notes : For those of you who don't know, moombas recognize people by their DNA.
To Dylan : My very first angry review! I'm so happy! Thank you! Heh. And if you want PWP... go read something else.