Those who we remember most

A Final Fantasy VIII Fanfiction

By Fateweaver

Chapter 3

"…Ashes, Ashes, we all Fall Down."

Quistis' hair bobbed in the wind as she leaned over the Garden's top floor's rail, staring at the sunset over the ocean nearby. She had shaved off the excess hair she had acquired in the desert and aside from changing the bandage on her leg in the hospital, she had been discharged without so much as painkillers.

A warm, leather glove on her shoulder signaled Edea's arrival on the rooftop. Without a word, she walked past Quistis and stared at the sunset as well with a smile. Turning her attention back to the sunset, Quistis said, "Why are you here, Edea?"

"It is a beautiful morning," Edea replied, "and I have always watched the sun rise on the top of this Garden since I came to live here."

A moment passed between them as the sun continued to rise, an uncertain, yet knowing moment. Quistis noticed it immediately and turned to Edea, whose face had drooped and was now somber.

"You came to ask me about Zell, didn't you?"

Edea closed her eyes and shook her head, "I already know what happened. I wanted to see if you were all right, child."

Blushing a bit, Quistis turned back to stare at the horizon and stammered, "I-I'm just fine, Edea. I don't know why you would be worried about me; we returned home after all, didn't we?"

Delicately, Edea placed her arms on the cold rails and stared into the sunset, her eyes distant and fixed on a spot somewhere beyond her sight, "He loved you, Quistis."

Turning to the door, Quistis began walking, her calm face breaking apart.

"Before you go," Edea quickly said, "tell me, can you survive?"

Her hand landed on the door's latch and she stopped. "Zell was a great man and I would hope that you would be more worried with Squall and Irvine." The door opened, shut, and Quistis was gone.

"It is alright to love someone, even if they are someone else's, and it is similarly fine to be loved beyond the grave." Edea said to nobody in particular as she stared at the sunrise. "Hyne be with you, Quistis." With that, her body shimmered and vanished, materializing somewhere else in the Garden where none would fine her unless she wanted them to.

Blood sprayed over Irvine's clothes as he downed another Behemoth, his bullet landing soundly through the beast's eye and out his skull. Teetering for a moment, the beast stood defiantly and then collapsed into a bloody heap of guts and blood, shaking the ground slightly.

Ejecting the brass casings of the rounds in his rifle, he reloaded and began walking forward again. No matter how many fights he got into with the beasts of the training area, he couldn't clear his mind. Any second now, he expected Zell to come bursting in through the door, punching the air and running on the balls of his feet with that happy-go-lucky expression of his, asking him if he wanted to practice together.

A rustle in the bush drew his gun and he fired two shots without a thought. Flipping open his hunting rifle again, he walked over to the brush to observe his kill. Shivering, holding his profusely bleeding arm, a child lay with gritted teeth and tearing eyes.

"Shit," Irvine hissed through his clenched teeth as he holstered his rifle and picked the kid up of the ground, "hold on, I'm gonna get you to the hospital."

His boots clapped against the hard-packed soil of the Training Grounds, his legs carrying him as fast as they could go, his mind filled with horror and venomous self-hate. The kid looked bad too, both shots had hit dead-pan in the arm, near the major arteries. A sword rattled against his belt, undrawn and apparently brand new.

Irvine swore to himself as he shouted people out of his way as he charged out of the training grounds at a full-sprint that he wouldn't pick up a gun again until he could be sure this wouldn't have a 'next time'.

Noticing a sudden shift in weight in his arms as he ran up to the medical bay, Irvine looked down and, to his horror, the child's head hung limp against his arms and he was barely breathing. "Hold on, kid! Don't die on me," he yelled as he shouldered the door open, breaking the latch and lock in the process.

"I've got a gunshot kid here," he yelled to the dark medical bay, completely empty of any medical personnel. Cursing at his bad luck, he placed the kid on the nearby bench and ransacked the nearby cabinets for something, anything, to treat the wound. Managing a roll of gauze, Irvine scrambled over to the kid, whose face was becoming paler by the second and quickly wrapped gauze over the wound. Cutting the gauze with his teeth, he grabbed some tape off the desk and sealed the bandage, hoping it would be good enough to stop the bleeding shortly until someone showed up.

Glancing at the kid's face, which was nearly chalk-white now, he knew he didn't have that much time to waste. Rummaging through his coat, he fished out his personal radio and snapped it open. Fumbling the number for Dr. Kadowaki onto the screen and pressing the 'SEND' button. Gritting his teeth, he said as calmly as he could, "Get to the infirmary ASAP, Dr. I have a gunshot victim here, and he's about to bleed to death."

Rinoa stirred lightly as she heard the sound of things being moved. Her eyes opened to find Squall sitting at the other end of the bed, holding the Lionheart in both hands, staring at it with an unreadable expression.

Bare-chested and wearing only his leather pants, Squall gripped the sword handle and walked to the door without so much as kissing her on the forehead. She thought about stopping him for a moment, but after what she had told him last night, she decided it might be best for him to have some time alone.

The door opened for him and closed shut behind him and she was alone again. Her thoughts drifted to the events of the last night as he lay in bed, staring at the door to the room.

He had just sat on the bed, staring at the floor with his hands on his knees as she had told him about his child's death, her alcoholism, and all the changes to the Garden made since he had left. She also reluctantly told him about her demotion to Groundskeeper because of her inability to fight and high maintenance, though she never kept the grounds. They had demoted her to that job simply so that she might one day be able to rise to the ranks of her former status.

She had made dinner for him, hamburgers, after that but he just didn't seem in the mood to talk then. All the happiness that she had been able to see in his heart when he had first seen her had vanished, replaced by something far darker.

They had gone to bed together, but everything seemed so hollow and empty, even there. Finally, they had gone to sleep without another word spoken, except for Squall apologizing earnestly for having been gone so long.

Grabbing her clothes, she dressed and decided to go out looking for him, hoping to cheer him up somehow.

Ignoring the stares of others had been something he had always been good at, and no better a time did he need it than now. Barefoot, wearing only his leather pants, he calmly stalked down the main corridor to the training grounds, his sword slung over his shoulder. Students stopped and stared and he faintly made a note to himself to shave when he returned.

As he reached the entrance, he found a group of students huddled about the door, talking excitedly among each other. He walked up to the group, unnoticed, and coughed to get their attention.

The kids, no more than fifteen years old, all looked up in anger, and then fear.

"What's going on," he demanded calmly as the student's looked among each other with worried expressions.

The youngest replied, "We saw some guy in a trench coat run by, he was carrying one of our friends. Had a gun. In any case, we can't find him now, and Biggs here keeps saying that he was bleeding or something."

"Yeah," Biggs replied exuberantly, "bleeding from the arm!"

"Whatever," the youngest butted in, "but we can't find him now. The guy ran off in the direction of the infirmary, but that place isn't open this time of the morning."

"Irvine," Squall stated as recognition kicked in. Without a word, he charged off to the infirmary, leaving the kids behind in his dust.

Finding the door broken in and the lights on, Squall skidded to a stop and walked in the door, expecting the worse. Immediately, Dr. Kadowaki shoved him out of the way as he ran in from the corridor Squall had come down. "Get out of the way, I've got a gunshot victim bleeding to death in here!" Scrambling into the operating room, Kadowaki shouted, "Sit on the bench and I'll get to you as soon as I can!"

"What's going on here," Squall demanded as he strode into the operating room to find Irvine with his hat off, between his legs, his expression blank and cool, and a kid on the operating table with heavy bleeding on his right arm.

Grabbing Irvine from his chair, Kadowaki yelled, "Get out, the both of you! I can't have your germs flitting about with this kind of blood loss!"

Irvine stood up from the chair and walked to the door, not daring make eye contact with Squall. Grabbing his arm as he walked by, Squall demanded an explanation. "Some kids told me that you shot this kid, is that true?"

Ripping his arm from Squall's grip with a shove, he walked to the infirmary's door and hissed, "Leave me alone. I know what I did. I'm going out and it might be a while till I'm back. Tell the others."

With that, Irvine walked down the corridor. Before Squall could pursue him, Kadowaki's head poked out of the operating room and demanded, "Get me some gauze, Squall!"

Grunting, Squall let Irvine go. He would deal with him, and whatever just happened, at a more appropriate time in the future.

Pulling on a sweater, Rinoa walked through the door with a quizzical expression. "What's going on, Squall?"

Deciding to remain silent, he turned and returned to his original intent of training as Rinoa gasped and ran over to Dr. Kadowaki.

'Damnit Irvine,' Squall thought as he padded across the cool floor, 'why? What the hell is going on with you. If that kid dies…'

"Squall," someone nearby chuckled. Turning with fire in his eyes, Squall was tempting for a moment to unshoulder his blade and plant it firmly in between Seifer's frosty eyes. With a smirk he pointed at Squall's gunblade and stated, "One more incident like that and I'm going to kick you all out of here—you're lucky I'm not the head of the disciplinary committee anymore."

The fire cooled in Squall's eyes as he stared at Seifer. He wasn't who he used to be either, just a hollow and scared copy of the original. Ever since Ultimecia, Seifer had retreated back to his former 'I'm a total badass' personality and had considered three times leaving Balamb Garden. According to Cid, since they'd been gone, he had grown increasingly manic and depressed; and obsessed with getting 'revenge' on Squall for 'setting him up to be who he's not'. "Get out of my face," Squall hissed as he turned his back to Seifer, "you're lucky that I'm not willing to kick your ass just yet."

Seifer's hand lowered to his gunblade as he snorted, "And what would that take, I wonder. Money? Slicing Irvinne's hand off? Your girlfriend's virginity?" His fingers twitched as Squall turned and shrugged the blade off his shoulder.

"Come on, Mr. Badass," Seifer yelled, "what have you got that I don't have?"

Raising the gunblade from his side, Squall pointed the tip squarely between Seifer's eyes. "Don't test me, you conniving worm; I've had enough of you."

"Worm," Seifer chuckled as he scratched the back of his head with the dulled edge of his gunblade, "and what of you, hero? Am I supposed to be kissing your feet right now, calling you My Lord and giving you a sponge bath in an hour?"

Restraining his blade from soaring into his rival's chest, Squall snorted. "You wouldn't know what a hero is if he smacked you between the eyes."

"You know what I see? I see a band of idiots out of control, thinking they can run the whole chicken coop. Well, chicken-wuss, you're all wrong. This hen house has got one last rooster and I'm not going to let you go about sticking out your chest and rattling your swords without a fight."

"You've got nothing on us," Squall muttered, "nothing, you foolish man."

Seifer waved a finger with a smirk, "Not yet, but trust me. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's discipline. Another incident like this Squall and I'm going to show this whole butt-kissing, hero-worshipping Garden that you're all too human."

"And you're not," Squall chuckled as he walked away and shouldered his blade.

Seifer let his blade arm rest as he placed a hand on his cocked hip and called out, "Squall, you chickenwuss, what's happened to the lot of you, huh? You're all turning into spoiled brats! Don't let your head get away from you, or—maybe you should." Breaking out into laughter on his witty joke, Seifer turned and disappeared.

"I'm going to humiliate him again one day," Squall vowed, "just to shut his 'chickenwuss'ing ass up once and for all. Rivals or no, he's taking this too far."

"So Squall's been down there for three days now?"

"It's not like I can convince him to come back without fisticuffs," Rinoa sighed. Squall was pissed off, really pissed off. "After what Seifer did, I wouldn't be surprised if those two start beating each other up again."

"Maybe he needs a good beating," Selphie giggled, shadowboxing an invisible Seifer, "that man has an ego the size of this Garden. It needs a good beating ever so often."

"Still, I don't get it. Why did Squall get so pissed?"

"Hyne if I know," Selphie shrugged.

The door to the apartment shuddered a bit as someone knocked loudly. "Hellooo," Quistis called out, "you in there Selphie?"

"Hey, yeah!" With a giggle, Selphie jumped to the door and opened it for Quistis. "Hi Quistie!"

"Hey Selphie," Quistis said with a nervous giggle, noticing Rinoa inside, "I'm—I'm not bothering anything am I?"

"Of course not, Quistis." Rinoa laid back on the small yellow couch and said, "We're just letting loose. The boys are all in a rough and tumble mood today."

Quistis smoothed her hair and closed the door and with a curt smile stated, "Um—Selphie. About Zell—"

Her eyes brightened as a smile spread off her face, "Where is that goof? Wasn't he onboard your ship?" Her face fell into a frown before Quistis could answer. "Or did he go out to eat hot dogs before he came to visit?"

Rinoa tilted her head in confusion as she saw a horrible look fall on Quistis' already pale and nervous expression. Her heart paused as Quistis opened Selphie's hand and placed a velvety box in her hand, looked straight in her eyes, and said, "we need to talk, hon'."

Staring down at the box in confusion, she shook her head, "What's this about?"

"It's—about Zell, Selphie. He was going to give this to you—"

With a nervous sigh Selphie shook her head and giggled, "That Zell. Why didn't he just give it to me in person? Is he afraid I still have cooties or something?"

Grimacing, Quistis turned and closed the door. Turning back, she placed her hands on Selphie's shoulders and stared her in the eyes, as painful as it was to do so.

"Quistis," Selphie began to worm away as she felt something sharp in her as Quistis stared, "what—what's happened to Zell?"

"He's, well—you see, when we left for our mission he—well…"

"He's…dead?" The word was like a shot to the heart; though Rinoa hadn't meant it that way. She could tell what this visit was about the moment Quistis had placed the box in her hands. This wasn't the first time Quistis had done this.

Selphie spun about, a wild look in her eyes. "Wha—what do you mean, "He's dead." But—he can't be! This is a trick, isn't it?" She cocked her hips and pouted, "That's mean, Rinoa. I've been waiting patiently for him to come back. I know he's fine just like I knew that Quistis and the others would make it back here."

"Selphie," Quistis muttered. With as gentle a hand as she could, she turned Selphie back and hugged her as she choked on her tears. "He's gone—gone, Selphie, there was nothing we could do. He's not coming back—not ever."

"That doesn't mean he's dead," Selphie growled, shoving Quistis away and backing away. "You don't know!" She pointed an accusing finger as the thought began to gain traction in her head and yelled, "You don't—k-know that! He could still be out there!"

"He was taken," Quistis said quickly, "by raiders. I'm sorry—I just don't harbor much hope that he's alive. They—we killed their families. They had vowed revenge."

Selphie's eyes began to sting as she fumbled for words, trying her best not to think of Zell's death. "No! NO! No, no, no! He's not—he can't be…he can't! He can't be dead!!"

"Selphie…"

"NO! You're just jealous, Quistis! You want him for you, don't think I haven't seen it! I've seen him staring at you as you go!!" her arm shook as she clenched her teeth, anger and sadness ripping her to pieces. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she stood there, her anger slowly breaking down, her mouth struggling for words. "He's—he's mine! He wouldn't leave me... he loved me, dammit! He'll be back, he's always back someday. I just have to wait long enough—want him hard enough! He'll be back!"

Without a reply, Quistis quickly shuffled out of the room, tears streaking down her cheeks. Selphie's finger pointed after her as she ran out of the dormitories, her body shaking with rage. "Zell," she said finally, "he's coming home. He is coming home. He HAS to be."

Checking his dufflebag, Irvinne made a mental inventory of his supplies. The cold night breeze swiped his coat to the side, knifed effortlessly through his clothes, and smoothed across his skin. Shivering a bit, he finished up the inventory and checked it again. Flashlight, water canisters, ten MREs, an extra set of boots, ten boxes of rifle bullets, three shirts, and two sets of khaki pants. With a sigh, he zipped the bag closed and stood. On the edge of the Garden's rooftop, he stared at the moon. Distantly, he could remember the hot burn of the campfires they had set in the desert and the sand hotdogs that Zell made along the way. Glancing at his watch, he tapped his foot impatiently. 22:00. He grunted his dissatisfaction. He had called for the aircab to pick him up twenty minutes ago and Balamb wasn't exactly the hardest city to find.

Nobody would miss him and he had already OKed his leave with Cid. Shooting that kid had drowned him, he figured. Might as well get out early before rumors caught up with him--on a ship the size of Balamb Garden it wouldn't be more than four days before somebody put the pieces together and started pointing a finger in his direction. By then, he'd be long gone. Trabia was as fine a place as any to spend his time off he figured. Besides, he probably wouldn't be getting any more 'time on'.

The whine of an engine turbine got his attention and he flagged down the incoming cab. As it slowed to a halt, he grabbed the rugged leather strap on his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Taking one last look at Balamb's florescent rings, he tipped his hat and strode to the cab door, opened it, and slipped inside to the leather interior. "You know where to take me," Irvine stated with a gruff undertone, passing a thousand gil off to the driver, "no unnecessary stops. No telling anybody I used your cab. Got it?"

The driver nodded and set the car in motion without a word. As the cab lifted off from the rooftop, he heard someone calling his name. Chancing a glance at whomever had called out, he saw Squall standing on the rooftop, clad in leather pants, no shirt, and messy hair. His eyes bore into Irvinne's as the cab rocketed downwards to the sea, and in a flash, Irvinne slipped away. "Forget about the part where you need to keep your cab a secret, it's too late for that now."

Slumping back against the leather seat, Irvinne watched as the Garden slipped away from the windows. It grew smaller and smaller until it was just another dark fleck of mass on the horizon, and then it vanished entirely. As the last bit of Balamb Garden faded from sight, he let out a sigh of relief and tipped his hat down so that he could get some sleep. He was amazed he had gotten out so cleanly--he had nearly expected Squall to come riding in on the Ragnarok and harrying the cab until they gave up and let him board.

"Sorry, kid," he muttered as he slowly drifted off to sleep, "can't trust my rifle 'round there anymore."

One foot on the railing, the other firmly on the ground, Squall's hand clenched down on the railing as he watched Irvine slip away onto the horizon. "See you later, cowboy." Pushing off the rail, Squall headed back inside the Garden, consulting the tracking device he had put in Irvine's hat with a PDA. He figured that Irvine had more than forgotten about that skirmish they had had in the caves on the last mission--they had needed him to scout ahead and the only means they could keep track of each other was through the ship's tracking device and sensors--part of the reason why they knew that nobody would be coming to the rescue; when they had re-assembled the beacon before heading back to Balamb, Squall decided to tag Irvine anyway, just for fun; but the times for fun were well over it seemed.

Pushing off the wall, Seifer revealed himself. After making sure no-one was watching, he downloaded the frequency of the tracker into his PDA and smirked. "Well, we'll just have to have a nice fireside chat one day, eh chickenwuss?" Adding the entry to his student account's personal database, he left the scene and began following Squall again. All he had to do was to get him to say it, say that Irvine was the one who shot the kid. After that, he could start his old job up once again--not that they didn't need the help anyway. It was a crusade, he had decided while trying to figure out what to call his research, a crusade to vanquish the chickenwuss in all of them. All he needed were connections and then the dominoes would start stacking themselves--after that, all that needed to be done was one small little push in the right place.

As Squall opened the door to his dormitory, he checked over his shoulder. Smirking, Seifer chuckled at the other end of the corridor. That was a close one; he'd have to be more careful if this was going to work as well as he had hoped it would. Tapping a few notes into his PDA, he smirked as he headed back to the basement. "Why not make it a documentary? I'm sure those chickenwuss worshippers up there wouldn't mind a little Seifer-brand entertainment. Besides, why spend all that energy to make my own report on the heroes when I could just record their transgressions plain vanilla." It would keep him out of the spotlight, it would make his report absolutely unbiased. It was the perfect tool--now he needed the means to make the tool. Checking his notes to compare as he got in the elevator, he sighed. "Of course. Selphie--she's broken over Zell right now. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if yours truly came along and helped her release all of that anger and hatred. Besides, with ego's like theirs, it'll only be a matter of time until they start self-destructing and taking my Garden with them."

The elevator rolled to a stop. With a ding, the doors slid open and beheld a massive amount of electronics and wires tapped into the walls. Locking the elevator again with the key he had borrowed from Cid when he wasn't looking, he stepped into his little laboratory and hooked up his PDA to his system. Placing his hands on the desk and staring at the feed watching Squall's apartment, he wondered if Balamb Garden's security system came with an audio feed. Punching in a few buttons, he placed the query. In a few seconds, the network of student accounts, administrative accounts, and server accounts he had gathered over the years came to life. Zombies, all of them, he had taken each and every one of them with a simple, undetectable program. With a few keystrokes he could command the whole network to shut down or ruin the status of five heroes.

Chuckling as he thought it, Seifer revised that sentence. He couldn't ruin their status as heroes, because there were no such people as 'heroes'. Just people who are unanimously decided upon to be represented as the peak of all perfections by their adoring public. The sickness had to come to a stop before people began regarding them as 'gods'. "Ye shall not be Gods," Seifer stated aloud as he punched in his commands, "and those who adore you will be brought to their senses; by your actions alone."

The command cleared the security systems flawlessly and the hard drives he had collected spun up as they began to record every moment of passing time in all the public areas of Balamb Garden. Letting the blue glow warm his otherwise freezing cold body, as he had opted to boost the power for the computers in expense of the heating components of the air conditioner, he began going over the elements of his first, and greatest, documentary. "The Fallacy of Heroes -- Who they Are, What they Do."