Restoring the Lion's Heart: Chapter 4

It was hard to say whether the quest to save Squall's life was going well. For one, currently neither of the heroes carrying out the task were accomplishing something together and secondly, both of them seemed to be at a roadblock in their own separate paths: Bartz was making it his goal to prep himself as best he could for the big exam while Zidane still struggled to get out of the university altogether without getting his behind fried by the persistent security, who were still firmly set on capturing him alive. At least for the moment he could take a break from the incessant chase, even though the ruffled blonde wasn't sure if being stuck in a crowd of screaming and cheering hooligans rubbing against each other in the heat of the moment was an all that better alternative. The situation was becoming such that Zidane wasn't so much concerned for the direction he was going so long as he could escape from the overheated crowd to get some air and actually breathe again. He was starting to get light-headed.

"Well chicken-wuss? You just gonna stand there or are you gonna man up and do something to stop me?" barked snidely 'the douche', as Zidane had so eloquently dubbed him.

"I dunno 'bout you, but I've been waiting three years for my SeeD exam – I ain't 'bout to pass it up and wait another three years just for the likes of you, however much you deserve to get bent!"

"Ha, because you think a weak little rag like you will actually pass? Get over yourself! Quit chickening out on me like the chickenwuss you usually are for once."

"Stop calling me that!"

The next thing Zidane heard was a violent hit. Impossible to tell from his position who it was exactly that threw the first punch, but the commencement of the potential brawl sure stirred some serious commotion among the crowd – much to Zidane's annoyance. At this point he wasn't even trying to be gentle anymore, literally shoving people out of his way at full force to avoid asphyxiation.

"Hey hey hey - hey! You kids, stop that this instant!"

Beyond the views and cares of Zidane, a man in a white chef getup attempted to pull the two quarrelling boys apart. He was considerably large, making the task seem relatively simple for the man if it were not for the fact the place was practically an untamed barn, with much agitation and excitement for there to be any room for either of the frenzied boys to be far enough apart from each other. "I will have zero of this nonesense in here! If you guys are intent on breaking each other's faces, then take it outside! This is the canteen for crying out loud!"

With that, the large interruptor slightly shoved, as best as he could, the quarreling boys in direction of the exit, the large crowd struggling to divide in two as not to fall over and start a stampede. "I will tell you both right now, though, that it takes more than just power to become a SeeD. You need a sense of companionship. You need to be level-headed upon daunting situations and most importantly, your mission takes precedence over your personal feelings. If you guys don't get yourselves together in time for your exam, then I fully suggest just giving up altogether and re-doing the extra three years to prepare for the exam again. You're obviously still kids."

Zell, frustrated and pouting, quickly went to defend himself. "I'm seventeen! I'm no longer a kid–"

"Then stop acting like one!" roared the chef. "And that goes for the both of you. Now get out of here."

As Zell continued his pouting streak, the other offender however wasn't looking nearly as interested or even paying the slightest remote attention for that matter. Halfway through the rant he decided he'd heard enough repetitive babble, and with an arrogant scoff, he headed off, brutally making more way for himself to pass through the crowd. Zell though hung his head a little in defeat at what the larger and wiser man said, eventually making his exit as well.

With the exit of the two firestarters, the crowd's rowdy excitement soon died down as well, seemingly left in little disappointment as audible complaints such as 'lame', 'should've gone all out' were thrown amongst each other. But with order having set back in again and people remembering that they were to eat and not to be entertained, there was some loose room and god forbid some actual air, making it considerably easier now for Zidane to move and breathe again.

Though as it were at that moment, the thief looked a little perplexed, rooted in his spot as he stared off into space supposedly deep in thought.

He hadn't particularly meant to pay attention to the spat that was had with the sage stranger who had stopped the bloodshed between Zell and the unlikeable other boy, but he had, and now he suddenly found himself doing some serious reconsidering:

'I will tell you both right now, though, that it takes more than just power to become a SeeD. You need a sense of companionship. You need to be level-headed upon daunting situations and most importantly, your mission takes precedence over your personal feelings.'

'As fate would have it, Squall is the one destined to take out Ultimecia, which is why it is important for me and the sake of my dimension that we put him back in the time cycle. I'd imagine it's important for you to have your friend back, too.'

It was with that speech about what the SeeD were that triggered something inside. He hadn't realized before how preoccupied he was with the Squall he knew, the Squall he cared about. In retrospect, the entire time we was solely thinking of his feelings and his need to get his friend back with the pretext that finding the ring would solve the issue for all the other Squall cases. But the mission was not just about him and Bartz and their Squall, it was about everyone invovled in the dimension should Ultimecia ever achieve to destruct it.

'If you guys don't get yourselves together in time for your exam, then I fully suggest just giving up altogether and re-doing the extra three years to prepare for the exam again.'

Wait, isn't Squall nineteen...?

The Squall in their world was nineteen years old. He was seventeen when they had initially met during the 13th cycle, two years having gone by since their reunion together in the then new and foreign universe. So if he was seventeen when they met, and had already thrashed Ultimecia, then at this moment of Squall's life, he had taken and passed the SeeD exam and had apparently fought Ultimecia in the same year. Which meant...

"...Squall has to pass that exam today. Aw man,"

Suddenly Zidane began to see the severity of the situation and the ways of his errors.

Bartz was right all along. He suddenly felt a little guilty for completely mouthing off his partner, but as it was now he had to get out and find him again, and help him in the task of getting Squall to pass that exam. But how exactly was going to go about this?

It was only a moment later when the thief, idea in head ready, quickly wedged his way through the dissipated crowd and out the cafeteria perimeters.

"Hi."

Despite Zell being in a bit of rush, he still stopped to give attention to the little interrupter who had tapped his shoulder from behind. It was Zidane. Zell blinked questioningly at him, as if waiting for him to carry on. "Uh, can I help you with something?"

Once Zidane had tentatively exited the cafeteria and made sure the guards were well out of boundaries to harass him, he managed to locate Zell, who was fluttering off rather hurriedly towards the northern parts of the floor. His plan was simple and very Bartz-esque, almost unable to believe that he himself was actually going go with it. But it wasn't like he was enrolled with a list of other viable options either. What the hell do I have to lose.

"I'm a student from abroad trying to make a paper on inspiring fighters. I was wondering if you could help me out? I heard a lot of great things about you, so I'm thinking you could be of some real use." Zidane concluded his white lie with a very feigned and very plastic forceful smile.

Zell seemed to register no suspicion from Zidane's act, and instead appreciated the compliment. He made a sort of regretful smile, as if apolegotic that he couldn't offer his generosity and help the little student with his work. "Would love to help a fan out but I really gotta go - SeeD exam's in ten, and I still needa get changed!"

"Well, that's ok, I only got a couple of questions. Mind if I tag along?"

There was an unsure and hesitant pause. "I guess…can't this wait though?"

"Nah, not really."

"If you say so. Let's make this real quick then!"

That was considerably easier than expected. A genuine smirk hiked up at the corner of Zidane's lips. Lucky enough for him – something Zidane had been very short of on his arrival here – his prey was apparently very gullible, so getting through with the plan was proving more and more to be a guaranteed success. It was only a moment later they reached Zell's room, Zidane mentally noting the route of it and room number.

"So…this SeeD exam? Must be pretty big huh."

"Damn straight! SeeD's are a group of elite forces which help out the world all over - it's super renowned! Been prepping three years for this baby, and finally my dreams will come true!"

"I see," the thief added, feigning interest. "So how does it work?

"Wait are we doing the interview thing for your paper?"

"Ah yeah! Yeah. Talking about the SeeDs will help a lot."

Zell had moved to his desk to equip the jargon he needed for his exam. He carried on conversing in a cheery and enthusiastic manner, being rather animate when his hand wasn't chock full of something to be stuffed in his duffel bag. "Weelll…I think we're assigned a mission. Dunno what the details are, but they're usually always real missions, commissioned by real important people, out in the world! Pretty awesome right? Quistis was cool and told me I was gonna work with Squall, holy crap! He's like the best in my class. Can't believe I getta work with such a classy guy, now I'm sure to past the test!" There was a rather curiously happy sigh that followed.

"'Quistis'?"

"Ah sorry, got kinda off track – Quistis is my and Squall's instructor."

So 'Quistis' was the pretty blond lady he was nagging on the second floor…gotcha.

With the bag set and his fighting utensils all in gear, Zell gave his bag a pat then went to face Zidane. "Hey well man, time for me to go – if you wanna wait around here for me, be my guest! I keep a stack of crisps in the cupboard for emergencies, so help yourself to 'em if you get hungry!"

The young student bloomed a smile, duffel bag in hand and ready to set off. How unfortunate that his benevolent nature would be the fall of him. As he was making his way for the door, Zidane made a hasty grab at him by the wrist. He was already feeling a pang of remorse for attempting to go along with this (the boy had been so genuine and open) so he decided to quickly get it over with before regret came at him full force. "Really sorry 'bout this Zell – I mean, you seem like a nice guy and all. So it sucks that I have to do this, but I swear it's for a good cause. I'm doing it for the sake of Squall."

"Huh?"

And with that, the next thing Zell saw was black.

Well this wasn't of much help. Bartz had made a mess of Squall's room in the hopes of getting any substantial information to help him seem less ignorant, but the only thing it resulted in was tossing and turning anything within hands reach and wasting time reading something called Weapons Monthly Magazines. To say he read the magazines in itself was a gross overstatement: he had actually discovered there were some rather funny strips at the end of each issue, and in the amazing practice of completely losing track of all things important, Bartz found himself rummaging through the collection. Talk about productive. Man I seriously gotta do something about my concentration. This is just bad.

Bartz figured he may as well use what little time he had left to search for the exam rendez-vous point and hope for the best, unprepared as he was. Deciding it was time to go, he put the last issue away and heaved himself from the floor to head towards the door, being careful as not to walk over the mess he mentally shoved asside to clear up later. Before stepping out however, he stopped and eyed the enchanted Squall, still sprawled on the bed under the white sheets. "Wish me luck, Sleeping Beauty!"

As he silently exited Squall's personal space and closed the door behind him securely, he found himself almost bumping into yet another student.

"Bartz!"

At first Bartz made a startled face, as if surprised to hear the student call him by his name. The initial surprise was quick to transition into mild confusion when he registered the voice.

"…Zidane?"

"Yeah, yeah."

The mime stared on, confused. Upon closer inspection in front of him was indeed his dear friend who had stormed off earlier, but this time he was dressed and styled in a completely different getup. "I…don't understand."

And the thief was expecting such a reaction, so without further word the blond schemer grabbed Bartz's wrist and trailed him down into the deeper ends of the dormitory quarters, finally stepping into the room Zidane had concocted his rather brash, but well intentioned plan. At first view, nothing extraordinary could be taken of notice, but when Bartz noticed a lump under the sheets of the bed, and Zidane caught on, he went ahead and unravelled the mystery by flipping over the white covers.

Revealed on the bed was Zell - unconscious. And very much without his clothes. Bartz could only gape at the display before his eyes, having put two and two together.

"What the crap have you done Zid?"

"Relax, this will only make things smoother for the both of us. This guy," Zidane pointed to body on the bed as he continued on. "Zell or something - is taking his SeeD exam with you. So that way I get to tag along."

While this was thrilling news for the mime, unfortunately their little spat earlier and the slight pangs of guilt Zidane had made him deal with couldn't help but resurface. "I thought you said my idea was stupid and I was stupid for going with the stupidly stupid idea."

Zidane scratched the back of his head. "I know I said those things and while I still kinda stand by 'em, you also sorta do have a point. This mission isn't just about our Squall...it's about all of them, and if this one is in serious trouble before we can find the ring then, yeah, it's our duty to help him out. Besides, just because we're playing dress up doesn't mean we can't stop looking for the ring at the same time. I also know that you literally don't know anything about this place, like the name of our instructor?"

Bartz simply bowed his head. One couldn't say he didn't try to prepare himself, but at the end of the day credit for attempts wasn't going to keep him free of making embarrassing displays of his blatant ignorance on Squall's lifestyle in the university. The only basis he had was the very little Squall had ever shared with them and what Noelle mentioned - but then again, there were no names or no specific details.

"If you really feel that strongly about this whole thing and are confident to pull this through...then fine. Nothing will change that, so I figured I may as well help you out, while we stick together and still do our search. But promise me that we'll only be doing the SeeD exam; the minute we're done we get back to what we're really supposed to be doing full-time. Deal?"

"Deal! Thanks Zidane, you really are the best!"

Bartz, ecstatic, went to swat his little mate on the back...with a bit too much force. It was meant as a friendly gesture of approval, but unfortunately for Zidane he wasn't expecting the gesture neither the intensity of the hit. He almost ended up slightly toppling over, only just stumbling before his feet to catch himself in time as not to completely hit the floor, head first and all. When Zidane pulled back up, his brows and mouth both frowning, Bartz simply offered an apologetic sheepish look. "Welp, went a little hard there sorry."

"...Who the hell are you guys?" came a drowzy, shaky voice.

With all logic considered it was only a matter of time before the real Zell were to wake up, naturally – and it must have been on some glimmer of fate that he had awoken just before Bartz and Zidane had gone off: with Zidane off pretending to be him, there could've been some serious alarm and damage to possibly the both of them were the situation of identity theft to ever get out so quickly. Now Bartz and Zidane did not think about the implication on the grand scale of things right then and there, for they were actually frozen in place at the sight of an awoken Zell.

How much of what Zell saw and heard was beyond their knowledge but in an instinctive rush of panic, the boys did the only thing that came to mind: knock Zell back to unconsciousness. Bartz however opted for a much less brutal route, and simply casted the boy to sleep right after Zidane had done a one-two way with his fists.

"I feel kind of bad for doing that, to be honest."

"Sacrifices have to be made. And hey I'm doing this for your dumb thing, remember?"

Bartz shook his head, but an amused smile played at his lips, feeling no malice from the remark. "Yeah, yeah. The sleep spell should keep him quiet for a good while, but we should probably hide him too."

Agreeing to the idea, the boys heaved the unconcious fellow – Bartz carrying the arms and Zidane the legs – and contemplated several moments on where exactly they could store the body out of blatant sight should anyone walk into the room. Unfortunately the room was already such a confined space - there weren't much options, if maybe the bathroom in the second section.

But then suddenly Bartz started to drag the body towards a closest, with Zidane almost tripping at the sudden impromptu gesture. The mime struggled a little with his foot to cast the door of the confinement open, and gestured with his head to the short thief to start shoving the man inside. The whole procedure seemed rather unsettling and well beyond their usual principles and morals, but apparently their intentions and reasonings greatly outweighed what they were making the poor Zell boy go through.

Bartz smiled sadly to himself. "I knew I'd find a use for sitting through Squall's playthroughs of Metal Gear Solid."

Anticipation. Anguish. Whatever lingering doubts or negative vibes were had, they were forced aside to make way for courage and hope – the only support both Bartz and Zidane internally carried that could literally pull them through the concocted stunt they were about pull. This was it. The boys had long set off, fingers crossed and prayers said, and marched along together, ready – mentally anyway – to help build and prepare Squall Leonhart's heroic future. Thankfully for Bartz, Zidane had vaguely recalled the blond lady from earlier mention they would meet by the lobby on the first floor. "What would you do without me, eh?" Zidane teased. Bartz didn't bother retaliating, thinking he would've just wandered around long enough until he found the location.

As they approached their destination, a familiar figure – to Zidane anyway – was standing by a center piece just in front of the staircase leading to the elevator. While Bartz never did see the figure when they were raiding the classrooms on the second floor, Zidane had explained who she was and how she looked like, as to avoid surprise reactions.

The blond lady, known by the name of Quistis, eyed the approaching impostors curiously. "Oh? …Getting acquainted with Zell Dincht, are we Squall?" There was a certain amused expression in her face, and by the way she said it, it was implied that the comment was mostly a joke. This was besides the obvious fact regarding Squall's nature, giving the joke all the more away.

At first Bartz turned his head thinking that she was actually talking to Squall, apparently having forgotten that he himself was Squall. However he was quick recover from his little slip and meet Quistis with a response. "Ah! Uh yeah. I guess you could put it that way, heh." He tossed flippantly – and ended with a misplaced smile. Apparently the mime didn't catch on.

The thief froze, already beginning to second guess his decision to go along with this hoot, not sure whether he could stomach the embarrassment of being outed as identity thieves. If this chick is not suspicious…

But Quistis, while vaguely bewildered at first, merely blinked at Bartz, presumably thinking of what to follow up with but then abandoning. It was clear that she wasn't going to further prod into it. "...Well I suppose I should consider that a good thing, since you'll be working in a group of three on your SeeD exam – and he'll be in your Squad."

Zidane just stared on at the lady, flatly.

Well no wonder this world depends so much on Squall to get rid of Ultimecia, apparently everyone here is either blind or a tool. Suddenly this fair lady he was slobbering over just moments ago seemed a fair bit less attractive.

Bartz however seemed to have taken no real notice of his own blunder. "You said we'll be working in a group of three? I don't see no three."

"And he is here, my dear Leonhart."

Bartz and Zidane both turned to get an eyeful of the approaching figure. A tall man, with short golden blond slickback hair and a set of blazing green eyes that could only spell mischief, walked boldly and slowly –sported trench coat only just slightly carrying itself with the with the movements – towards the squad members and instructor. He had an authoritative aura about him, which was only further accentuated by the two supposed henchmen that followed him loyally.

While the mime did not make much out of the display, the little thief on the other hand was a little intrigued by the particular familiarity of the bold, deep voice of the third party member. The intrigue dissipated just as quick as it came though; not caring enough to rag onto his recollections, the thief simply shrugged it off as a memory hiccup.

"Ah, Seifer…" started Quistis. "You will be the leader of Squad B, which you have all been assigned to. Squall, Zell, I expect you to follow his orders. "

"That's right bitches, I'm the boss – and as your first order, keep the hell out of my way!" He turned to look at his squad. A sudden expression of disgust tainted his otherwise rather handsome face. "'the hell you even doing here, chickenwuss? How many higherups did your mother have to beat off just for you to get on this exam at all?"

Zidane – who was always quick with his mouth – couldn't do anything but widen his eyes and stare. The sudden realization of who this completely unfriendly, jerkward of a fellow was striked him too fast too soon to mentally brace himself in time for a proper comeback –

– their squad leader was the very same douche humiliating the very same Zell he was pretending to be from the cafeteria.

It wasn't even what he said that threw him off, it was the fact that this person was essentially Zell's bully, and he would be stuck with the jerk for pretty much the entirety of the exam.

So in addition to searching for the ring and watching Bartz's back, I have to deal with this cunt? I just can't win!

There wasn't much room left for either of the boys who were clearly igniting a venomous chemistry to prolong the banter, for a short but round old man, otherwise known as Headmaster Cid, soon came into view. He walked towards them then stood by the instructor, facing the students. "Is everyone here?" he began tentatively.

Seifer, never short on ammo to rile up people around him, gave a provocative smirk before turning to face their principal, supposedly waiting for something to come of him. By this point both Zidane and Bartz – the mime not withstanding from showing signs of irritation at the male for having pissed off his friend – were both glaring daggers at Seifer. Bartz however had at least tried to save it for when he wasn't looking.

"It's been a while. How's everyone doing? This exam will involve twelve members from Squads A through D..." The large aging fellow started giving his speech, a bold inauguration regarding the exam and the value of SeeDs. Neither of which Bartz or Zidane were unfortunately particularly paying attention to, the man's words quickly becoming incomprehensible babbles to their ears. It never did take long for either of their feigning interest capacity to be breached.

Zidane, having noticed that Bartz wasn't really following either, scooted closer and nudged him discreetely.

"I seriously currently hate you right now. Just thought you should know."

"That's not fair to blame your beef with the Seifer guy on me – it's not like I'm the jerk."

"Yeah but this whole pretend rescue thing was your idea and I'm essentially going to suffer the most."

"I'll make it up to ya, I promise!" Bartz quietly laughed off.

To be Continued...

A/N: Ok yeah this took kinda long sorry. Admittedly it was mostly the greater part of the first section in the chapter which gave me problems. I'm also not going to pretend or promise to have the next chapter up sometime soon since I have this thing of saying whenever I will update shortly the reverse happens, so I'm just going to stop talking now.

Many thanks to those still reading, and especially you reviewers! Every one is greatly appreciated.

Wingsong5555: Wow. I feel kinda bad for Zidane. I guess being short can be a blessing and a curse. Great chapter!
Oh haha, yeah. I'm a shorty myself so I can kinda relate. Thanks for sticking around!

nanami92: Can't wait to read some more!
Well, here you are!