Chapter 6

Dance with the Balamb-Fish

Seifer stood in front of the mirror of his room, allowing Fujin to fuss with the fastenings of the ink-black SeeD jacket he'd just put on, getting him ready for the SeeD Inauguration Ball being held tonight. Raijin sat on the bed in the background, half-playing, half-fighting with the dog they'd cleaned an hour or two before.

Now free from the grime and filth, it revealed most of the shaggy creature's coat to be a soft burnished gold, with paler white-blonde markings reminiscent of a collie on it's face and rump. It was still skinnier than it should have been, but it looked a lot better than it had before.

"Third time's the charm," Raijin was crowing triumphantly, "just like my granddad always said, ya know! I still can't believe you actually passed this time, ya know? Ouch!"

Seifer smirked as Mutt—they'd discovered in the course of it's bath that the dog was in fact a he, but Seifer still hadn't decided on a real name yet—suddenly snapped out and bit Raijin in the arm as if in retaliation for such an insulting statement, even if it was unintentional.

Seifer gently batted Fujin's hands away, then finished with zipping up his jacket himself. He smirked at his reflection as the metal ropes settled over his chest. He cut quite a good-looking and rather badass figure if he did say so himself. He sighed heavily then. He still couldn't believe that he'd finally done it. He was finally SeeD—even if it had been a pity graduation and he was currently ranked as absolutely low on the totem pole as one could get.

It was still a damn good feeling.

Fujin smirked as well, then her eyebrow rose.

"DATE?" He glanced at her, then sighed and shook his head.

"Nah, nothin' on such a short notice. I'm just gonna go stag." Then he grinned. "Maybe pick me up a little somethin' while I'm there."

Fujin's response to that was to roll her eye, but she said nothing.

Elsewhere Squall finally broke away from the slavering cadets and headed into his room. He was startled however to find Selphie standing there—now dressed smartly in black as a SeeD.

"Hah!" she crowed after he'd entered and closed the door behind him. "Found you!" She struck a pose. "Well, what do you think? It's my SeeD uniform!" Squall said nothing. Somehow, even after witnessing her skill on the battlefield, the staid and severe uniform just didn't seem to fit the bouncy, energetic girl. He couldn't very well say that out-loud however, so opted for silence. She sighed after a moment, then jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. "You better get changed too. We have that party to get to."

Squall rolled his eyes. If it wasn't required, he wouldn't even bother. Parties and celebrations weren't his thing. It was required however, so he entered into his bedroom and shut the door, then set about removing his student uniform for the last time and dressing instead in the black uniform that now hung from the back of the door. To himself, even Squall had to admit that putting on the clothes just made him feel stronger, more important. More adult. Squall ran a quick hand through his hair, then sighed and exited. Selphie grinned.

"Heeey," she cried, "lookin' good!" Squall rolled his eyes again. Quickly becoming immune to his blandness, Selphie just pumped a fist into the air—undaunted. "Alright. Let's hit that pah-tay!"

Twenty minutes later Squall stood on the sidelines of Balamb Garden's 2nd story ballroom, bored out of his mind. A hired waitress neared him, a platter of champagne glasses balanced in one hand. She offered him one, which he took, then moved away again. He sighed, then took a sip. He made a face. Geez, it tasted like bad seltzer water.

"Yo!"

Squall turned and tensed when Zell suddenly ran up, also dressed now in a SeeD uniform. He put a hand to his hip, crossing one foot over the other. "S'up, Squall," he murmured, grinning. "Hehehe, I guess we're both SeeDs now, huh?" He rubbed his fist on his pants leg, then held it out. "Put it there, man." Squall just gave him a droll look before turning to stare out onto the dance floor and taking a bigger swill of the alcohol in his hand. Zell just sighed, hand dropping away again, and gave a dry chuckle. "Hah, even as a SeeD, you're still the same. Well, that's typical of you." Squall glanced back at him, brow furrowing, wondering what the martial-artist meant by that. Zell just gave him one of his toothy grins. "See ya."

Then he turned and ran a couple of steps away, only to be cornered by Selphie.

"Oh, hey Zell," she called cheerfully. "You wanna join the Garden Festival Committee and—,"

"Sorry," Zell interrupted, hands raising. "I . . . ah . . . just remembered something. G-Gotta go. See ya!"

Zell turned on his heel and took off into the crowd. Selphie put her hands on her hips, frowning. "Hmm." Squall started a little with an inward groan as she spun about and then caught sight of him. Her pout disappeared into a grin as she ran forward. "Squall! Hi! Wanna join the Garden Festival Committee? You can help out whenever you have the time." Squall turned back to the crowd. "Please?" He took a bigger drink of his champagne. Selphie heaved an aggravated sigh, then finally gave up and trotted off to go waylay someone else.

Squall sighed himself, leaning back heavier against the wall. How long did he have to stay here before he could make his excuses and escape back to his room? Why did he even have to be here anyhow? This didn't serve any real purpose, other than to drive him to distraction with boredom and annoyance. He stared up at the night sky through the ballroom's skylight. All of a sudden he saw a shooting star streak across the sky. He stared for a moment, then his eyes dropped back down level. He tensed when he suddenly spotted someone that he hadn't ever seen before.

A lone girl stood in the center of the floor, her head tilted back and staring up at the skylight as well. She was on the smaller side of average in height, her body slender yet supple beneath the thin white sheath she wore. An inch-thick ribbon wrapped around her neck and crisscrossed down to hem the neckline in front, which wrapped down underneath her arms and across the blades of her shoulders in back. The dress hugged her curves without being too blatantly sexual, the hem of the fluttery skirt falling to mid-thigh, with about two inches of the gauzy see-through fabric overlapping the dress that fell beyond that nearly to her knees. Thick black hair fell loose down to mid-back, a few streaks in the front dyed a red-gold. When she suddenly turned in his direction, Squall noticed that she was wearing a thin silver chain with a plain white-gold band hanging from it. He also noticed that she had a pair of the prettiest brown eyes he'd ever seen.

He tensed when she suddenly smiled at him, and then pointed upward—apparently having seen the shooting star as well. Then the girl began walking in his direction. Squall felt a moment of panic seize him, yet there was no where to run and no way to turn and leave without looking like a complete coward. So he opted to remain perfectly still, glass half-raised, with the familiar cold stare on his face. Undaunted, the female came right up to him and gave him a grin that made him feel faintly as if someone had just kicked him in the teeth.

"You're the best looking guy here," she pronounced, voice soft and melodic, getting straight to the point apparently. Squall felt his eyebrow twitch. "Dance with me?"

Squall finished the champagne in his glass, glancing away. He heard her sigh.

"Let me guess. You'll only dance with someone you like." He didn't respond, and he heard her heave another sigh. "Ok then." He glanced back, thinking she meant to leave—and struggling with the strange sensation of disappointment that struck him. Instead he found her crouching slightly in front of him and then she started waving her fingers in his face. "You're-going-to-like-me," she chanted in a mono-tone, her expression caught between serious and smiling. "You're-going-to-like-me . . ." She straightened, now grinning. "Did it work?"

Squall couldn't help it. He chuckled, which she echoed, then he sighed and shook his head.

"I can't dance," he announced then, hoping to dissuade her from her idea. Of course that wasn't true. He'd been trained in about twenty different styles of dancing from the time he was twelve years old, it was a requirement for SeeD.

The girl waved away his protest like so much flies. "You'll be fine," she insisted. "Come on, I'm looking for someone," she announced, grabbing him by the arm and then physically dragging him forward. "I can't be out on the dance floor alone."

Squall was so stunned, he couldn't even think to put up a fight to keep her from propelling him forward onto the floor. He was damn near a half a foot taller than her and probably outweighed her in muscle by at least a hundred pounds, yet the spunky little raven-haired beauty pulled on him determinedly until she spun back around and grinned. Still startled, Squall barely reacted when she grabbed his hands and placed them where she wanted him, then took a hold and started leading them. Or trying to. They stumbled off balance, cavorted crazily and then nearly toppled over.

Squall pulled his hands away finally and turned to leave, and even managed to stalk a few steps away before the girl managed to grab him again. Somehow Squall found himself trying to dance with her again. Unfortunately she apparently didn't know that the guy was supposed to lead, and she ended up causing them to collide with another couple. The SeeD and his blonde date—dressed kind of trashy in a skin-tight red leather dress with a black feather ruff around her shoulders and matching full-length ball gloves—gave them dirty looks before they turned away. The girl stuck her tongue out at their backs, then turned back to him, dark eyes pleading. Squall sighed, feeling his resolve crumble like sand on the shore.

He took her firmly by the waist, pulled her arm up—ignoring her faintly startled look—and then pulled them into a perfectly executed waltz. The music swirled and flowed around them to it's crescendo as Squall led the girl in their dance. As the last notes faded they ended up chest to chest, hand to hand. Squall felt his breath catch, staring down into her wide dark eyes, very aware of the soft curves brushing his harder frame, of her tiny palm pressed against his, of the feel of his hand buried in the small of her back.

The moment was broken by the sound of fireworks exploding above. Both of them turned and stared up at the skylight to see the bright display, backing away slightly. Squall managed to catch his breath, smiling slightly, then turned back to her—suddenly realizing that he didn't even know her name.

He discovered the girl staring over his shoulder. Her expression brightened considerably as she apparently caught sight of someone. She turned back and smiled, giving him the signal to wait a moment, then she stepped around him and hurried off through the crowd.

Squall stared after her, confused and even a little scared of how much it bothered him that she'd just left him. Determined to forget about it, he turned on his heel and then stalked out onto the balcony beyond the dance floor.

Seifer sat on one side of the bar, nursing a glass of Winhill Whiskey. There had been many stunned expressions greet him when he'd strolled into the ballroom earlier decked out in his SeeD finery. He'd enjoyed them immensely, up until the point where they'd refused him entry until after consulting the guest list. Twice. Much of the pleasure of his triumph had been squelched after that, and his mood had only worsened as he continued to garner rude stares and dark muttering.

Apparently not many were as pleased as he had been about his surprise promotion. In fact, he had yet to see anyone give him a smile and congratulate him. Seifer scowled down at the amber liquid in his glass, then tipped it back. He winced at the fire that burned down his throat, but the numbing sensation in his gut afterward was more than worth the pain. He sighed loudly afterward. Here, he was supposed to be celebrating and having fun. Instead he was sitting here moping at the bar and on the verge of getting drunk. When had things gone wrong?

"I'll admit I never thought I'd see the day."

Seifer felt his whole body tense up at that cool voice. He tightened his fist around his empty glass, scowling, before he motioned to the guy behind the bar to fill it back up. The bartender did so dubiously as Quistis took a seat next to him.

"I hope you realize what an honor and a gift you've been given, Almasy," she continued, her snotty tone like nails on a chalk-board, and Seifer grit his teeth hard.

"Yeah, it's a real honor for Cid to get me in on a fucking pity vote," he sneered bitterly, turning to give her a narrow glare.

Quistis sat in street clothes, surprisingly, her glasses absent as well. She wore a peach zip-front top undone from the high neck and a matching knee-length skirt over her heeled black boots, the long sleeves a darker brown. Her golden hair was still pulled back into that severe clip, her glacial blue eyes just as cold as usual, expression just as disapproving. It really was the last thing he needed right now.

She snorted and shook her head, turning forward on the stool and motioning for the bartender to give her a glass of white wine. "I don't know why I thought, even for a moment, that you might be grateful for someone actually sticking up for you—Hyne only knows why anyone would do so." She turned back to him. "It's not as if you ever show even the tiniest bit of appreciation."

"Enough with the lectures, Trepe," he snapped. "I ain't your fuckin' student anymore."

"No, but that doesn't mean you've actually learned anything I ever tried to teach you," she shot back, just as furious for some reason. Also, curiously, Seifer could detect a shard of hurt in her blue eyes as she narrowed them on him. "Always going out of your way to undermine my authority in front of others, fighting me at every turn, as insolent and arrogant and spiteful as you could possibly manage to be. And now, when Cid gives you your dream on a silver platter, you sneer at that too."

Seifer's scowl turned black.

"Don't you ever try to psyche-eval me, Trepe! You don't know the first fuckin' thing about what you're talking about. You ain't no older or holier than I am, Instructor, so don't even try to feed me that self-righteous bullshit!" She gasped, eyes rounding, face paling a little. He sneered down at her, merciless. "As far as my gratitude, it's kinda hard to enjoy my change in status when everyone around me is whispering about how much of a joke it is, how much I don't deserve it and how badly Cid must've felt for my pathetic ass to throw me a fuckin' bone."

He'd managed to accomplish the impossible, striking Quistis speechless. He glared down at her for a moment longer, then turned away and slung back his full glass in one pull. "Now do me a favor," he heaved, voice hoarse from the alcohol and maybe even from the emotions clogging his throat as well, "go find your precious little Puberty Boy and leave me the hell alone."

There was a long moment of silence, and then he tensed when he felt her hand suddenly grip his shoulder. Not in anger. Almost . . . comforting.

"I'm sorry, Seifer," she murmured. Seifer winced, eyes closing.

Hyne-dammit, please, he murmured silently. Don't pity me. Hyne, anything but that.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," she continued, voice soft and gentle for the first time he could ever remember, at least when she was speaking to him. "You might not have been the best student," she sighed, "but that doesn't mean you aren't a hell of a good soldier." He glanced at her and she gave him a strangely bitter smile. "If Headmaster Cid graduated you, then there's a damn good reason for it, and that's because he believes you can and will be an asset to Garden and to SeeD." She took her hand away, then stood. "Good luck, Seifer. And congratulations. You've earned it."

Seifer stared after her as she drifted back into the crowd. He scowled, feeling torn between anger and guilt. Hyne-dammit. Just what was with her tonight, anyhow? Since when did the Ice Queen of Balamb feel sorry for him or congratulate him on anything? What, she couldn't find Puberty? Surely he was around here somewhere. Seifer found himself swinging around on the stool to face the dance floor, eyes scanning the crowd. He could've sworn he'd seen Leonhart standing on the edge of the action, being a boring-ass lump-on-a-log as usual . . . . Seifer's whole body tensed, eyes rounding, as he finally caught sight of Squall . . . and namely, who he was currently dancing with. Now that was just downright ironic. And creepy.

What were the chances of Seifer's rival finding and dancing with his own former girlfriend? He winced, then sighed. There was no doubt in his mind, that slender raven-haired beauty in the white dress was Rinoa Heartilly, a girl he'd met last summer in Timber.

After his first disastrous field exam, Seifer had been more than a little shaken and took an extended vacation from Garden in an attempt to find his feet again and re-evaluate what he wanted in life. After all, if he was unable to take another person's life without puking over it, he'd never amount to a hill of beans in the mercenary trade. Cid—more than sympathetic toward his problem—had given Seifer enough of an allowance to live out four months in a faraway town of Timber, on the Galbadian continent.

While there he'd quickly gotten caught up in the strange factions of resistance fighters there. Seemed like everyone was a resistance member in Timber, fed up and pissed off at the Galbadian government's occupation. Namely, he'd become involved with a certain dark-haired sixteen year old girl spear-heading one such group, called the Forest Owls. She and her subordinates had been fascinated by his SeeD training and his skills because of it. It had been fun—strangely cathartic in a way—to hang out with Rinoa, Watts and Zone and cook up one crazy plan after another to take down the Galbadians and liberate Timber. It wasn't long before his and Rinoa's friendship grew into something more romantic in nature.

She needed him, depended on him, made Seifer feel loved and wanted unconditionally for once in his life, and it was a heady feeling. Rinoa had told him once that he made her feel confident, strong, like she could take on the world so long as he was at her side. Yet their torrid summer romance wasn't to last. In the end, Rinoa had been just a little too clingy, too needy. She needed someone to make her his whole entire world, and Seifer just wasn't capable of doing that. At least not then, at seventeen with his head full of dreams and aspirations of a much grander future.

After a half-assed attempt to sabotage a Galbadian supply train ended up getting Seifer caught, he'd been forced to kill the guards holding him or end up in a prison cell somewhere. The kills had been hard to do, but not as terrible as the first. Proving to himself that he could do the job when it needed doing.

A week later he'd boarded the train back to Balamb, steeling himself against Rinoa's tears as she watched him leave. He hadn't seen her or heard from her since, and—though it made him wince a little—hadn't really thought about her all that much either. That more than anything solidified in his mind the fact that they weren't really meant to be together. Still, he didn't wish her ill will. Rinoa would probably always have a special little place for herself in his heart. He just wasn't in love with her, probably never had been—even though she'd given him those words more than once during their time together.

He tensed when, after her and Squall's dance was over and the fireworks began to light up the sky, she suddenly caught sight of him and brightened. She made her excuses to Pube, then began eagerly in his direction. Seifer swore under his breath, praying she wasn't here in an attempt to rekindle things between them.

"Seifer!" she called as she neared, grinning. Seifer fought to return her smile. "Oh Hyne, it's so good to see you!" she gushed, rushing up to him and giving him a hug. He sighed, patting her back somewhat uncomfortably, doing his best to ignore the curious and disbelieving stares they were getting.

"Hey Rin," he returned, then sighed when she pulled straight again. "You're looking good," he offered diplomatically. She chuckled.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she returned, standing back and giving him a once over—from his slicked-back reddish-gold hair down to the toes of his polished black boots. Her smirk turned faintly predatory. "I always knew you'd look good in that uniform." He chuckled, running a hand back through his hair, slightly uncomfortable under the praise. She laughed. "Just graduated?" He nodded. "I'm so happy for you, Seifer. I really am. You've got everything you've ever wanted."

Her dark eyes had turned glassy long before she'd finished her sentence, and Seifer inwardly groaned. He sighed.

"Rinoa—,"

She raised her hand, smiling through the tears gathering in her eyes, and shook her head so hard her dark hair flew out around her shoulders.

"No, Seifer, don't. I know it's over between us. I know. It's just . . . sometimes it's harder for us girls to accept it, okay?" He clenched his teeth, but finally nodded. She sighed. "Despite how this might look, I didn't show up here to try and win you back or anything. I just came hoping you might be able to make good on a promise you made me." His eyebrow quirked up. She took a deep breath, making an attempt to get a handle on her emotions. "Things are getting pretty bad back in Timber. I've decided that the suggestion you made—the one for us to hire SeeDs to help the Timber Owls—was a good one. I was hoping you could introduce me to your Headmaster, Mr. Cid. I've sent several requests, but none of them have been answered. I thought it might be better to talk to him face to face."

Seifer held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded and stood. Her dark head barely reached his collarbone. He'd always given himself a helluva crick in the neck trying to kiss her while standing. Surely that was yet one more reason why he should be completely convinced that he and Rinoa were never right for each other. He shouldn't feel near so damned guilty for breaking her heart as he had.

Seifer took Rinoa by the elbow and led her through the throng, until they approached Cid—standing off to the side-lines talking to a couple of other instructors. The older man turned when he caught sight of them, and excused himself from the others before stepping forward. His eyebrow raised at Seifer's serious expression.

"Headmaster? Uh . . . th-this is a friend of mine, Rinoa Heartilly." Cid smiled benevolently and took Rinoa's hand when she offered it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," she murmured.

"The pleasure is all mine, my dear," he returned politely. "I'm sure my view is far more pleasurable than yours." Rinoa chuckled, but Cid soon turned back to Seifer, expression questioning. Seifer cleared his throat.

"Rinoa here is from Timber. You remember I went there last summer. To . . . y'know . . . get away for a while." Cid nodded so he quickly plowed ahead. "She's a member of one of their resistance groups, the Forest Owls. Things are getting kinda hairy down there. Rinoa asked me to introduce her, so she could speak to you personally about maybe issuing them a SeeD contract. Thing is . . . the Owls don't really have a whole lot of Gil," he admitted at last. He swallowed as Cid met his stare steadily, blue eyes eerily discerning. "Their hearts are in the right place, but they don't really have a whole lot of resources or man-power. I was . . . well, I was hoping you might consider the job anyhow, sir." Admitting the next part was almost like swallowing acid. "I would be very grateful, and in your debt." Then Seifer straightened. "And if you need volunteers for the mission, I'd be more than willing to do so."

Seifer kept his gaze on Cid, refusing to look down and see Rinoa's reaction. No doubt she'd have her big heart in her equally big brown eyes, and he really didn't need a bigger guilty conscience right now. Cid sighed after a moment, then nodded.

"Very well, Seifer. I'm intrigued. Miss Heartilly?" he turned to Rinoa, and held out his arm. "Shall we adjourn to my office? You can tell me more of Timber's troubles and your proposition there."

"O-of course!" Rinoa stumbled, quickly moving forward and putting her hand on Cid's arm. "Thank you, sir," she gushed. He chuckled.

"Think nothing of it, child. And please, call me Cid. A beautiful girl like you calling me 'sir' makes me feel ancient."

Cid began leading Rinoa out of the ballroom. She turned around once, mouthing the words 'thank-you-so-much,' before turning forward again. Seifer watched them leave, then turned on his heel and stalked from the ballroom himself. He went to his dorm room to change, putting on a pair of jeans instead and a plain white t-shirt, Balamb Garden's emblem on the back. Mutt sat in the middle of his bed, cocking his furry head to the side as Seifer grabbed up Hyperion and clipped it to his belt.

"I'll be back in an hour or two," he told the dog needlessly, reaching over to ruffle his ears. "Gonna go chase some curfew-breakers around the training center and blow off some steam. Don't wait up for me."