Author's Note - Thanks to everyone who reviewed in response to my request a couple of chapters ago. Glad to know there're others enjoying the story so far. Here's the real test. So far things have been staying pretty true to the game. From now on, things are going to take a bit of a left turn. Hopefully it'll stay interesting! I'll be looking forward to seeing how you all react!
Chapter Thirteen
The Best of Intentions
The three of them hurried into the broadcasting room to find Seifer on the far left of the stage, gunblade still held to the president's throat. Apparently Quistis had managed to chase the Galbadians out of the immediate room, but no doubt they were still watching avidly. She herself was standing at the base of the stage. She turned as they entered, and slumped slightly with relief.
"We need to restrain him!" she announced.
Squall strolled farther into the room, arms crossed and looking completely unperturbed. He lifted his gaze to pin a mildly-offended Seifer with a bland stare, one eyebrow raised. "What do you think you're doing?" he questioned at length. Seifer snorted.
"It's obvious, ain't it?" he countered. "What are you planning to do with this guy?"
Planning to do? Squall parroted inwardly, then he frowned. That's right . . . He knows Rinoa. Is that why he's here . . . ?
"I get it!" Zell suddenly burst forth. "You're Rinoa's—,"
"Shut your damn mouth, Chicken-wuss!" Seifer snarled. Yet it was clear what Zell was about to say. Strangely enough, Seifer wasn't the only one disturbed with such a possibility.
"He went AWOL," Quistis suddenly proclaimed bitterly, "left against orders and I ended up getting stuck on the train with him. I've been trying to convince him to stop this nonsense ever since, not that the arrogant jerk will listen to a word I've been saying."
Squall cast his eyes toward the volatile martial-artist, who was now nearly hyperventilating with rage. He rolled his eyes heavenward and prayed to Hyne.
"You stupid idiot!" Zell finally burst forth. Squall groaned.
Zell please . . . "Be quiet," he ordered softly. He was ignored.
"Instructor, I know! You're gonna take this stupid idiot back to Garden, right?!"
"Shut up!" Squall snarled, causing Zell to jerk. "No!"
Deling suddenly chuckled, still pale and sweaty, but now with a grim smile. "I see," he murmured. "You're all from Garden." Zell gasped, clapping a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. A little too late, unfortunately. "Should anything happen to me," Deling continued, "the entire Galbadian military will undoubtedly crush Garden." The president wrenched a little in Seifer's hold, but the taller blonde didn't budge. Deling sneered. "You can let go of me now."
"Nice going, Chicken-wuss!" Seifer spat. "You and your stupid big mouth!" Zell slumped, stricken. Then Seifer swung his hot green eyes from Zell to the other blonde in the room. "Take care of this mess, instructor," he barked, then to Squall, "and Mr. Leader!"
Seifer swore in three different languages as he dragged the Galbadian president back off the stage and through the hall. Great. This was just Hyne-damned perfect. He would've already been long gone if Quistis hadn't cut him off. Just what in the hell was she thinking anyway? He'd thought she was on his side. Especially after . . . And now Chicken-wuss had to go and open his yap and blurt out where they were all from. If the Owls tried to take any action against this heavily sweating pig now, then Garden would be held responsible. So now he was stuck in a TV studio in the middle of nowhere surrounded on all sides by slavering Galbadian soldiers getting a hard on just thinking about plugging him in the skull, with absolutely no exit strategy to speak of.
Talk about a cluster-fuck of epic proportions.
Seifer pulled the president into another room, this one lit in freaky violet soft lighting with white drapes hanging from the ceiling around the stage. He cast his eyes around, searching desperately for a way out of this impossible situation. He gaped however as the drapes in the back suddenly began rippling like a pool of water. He scowled, eyes narrowing, trying to make sure his eyes and nerves weren't playing tricks on him.
No, sure enough, the drapes were rippling. And then out walked a tall woman dressed in a skin-tight black gown, the neckline plunging down well to her belly with a ruff of black feathers surrounding her shoulders. Her head was obscured by a strange headdress that tinkled like a wind chime as she moved, her face hidden by a red mask attached to it. Her arms were completely covered in black gloves and her fingers were curved into talon-like claws. Seifer could only gape, eyes wide, as the woman swayed across the stage, nearing him.
"Poor, poor boy," she called in a haunting, whispery soft voice. Seifer came to his senses finally and tightened his hold on Deling, raising his gunblade closer to his neck.
"Stay away from me!" he snarled threateningly. He couldn't see her expression, but he could hear her lilting chuckle and the sound seemed to echo eerily throughout the entire room.
"Such a confused little boy," was her gentle assessment. "Are you going to step forward? Retreat? You have to decide."
"Stay back!" he roared again, this time almost desperately. Who—or what—in the hell was this chick?
Right at that moment Quistis suddenly ran forward.
"Seifer!" She skid to a stop when she caught sight of the tall woman in black, her eyes widening. He inwardly cursed. The woman chuckled again, and the sound sent a cold chill up Seifer's spine.
"Even better," she murmured, then all of a sudden she raised her arm high.
A brilliant flash of light erupted, and then Seifer felt his body flying backward as if some massive thing had struck him. He collided with a pile of camera equipment, stars ringing in his head. His vision went hazy from the impact as well as whatever spell the mysterious woman had cast, suddenly unable to move or speak. The president—now free—turned on his heel and fled the room as if his pants were on fire. Everyone else ignored him.
Seifer was forced to watch, helpless, as the tall woman beckoned and Quistis started walking forward toward her up the steps of the stage, almost as if summoned. Her face was pale, eyes very wide, lips parted as she panted for breath. As if she were trying to fight but losing the battle.
"Come, child," the woman was whispering in her haunting, seductive voice. "Forget these fools who have never understood you or appreciated your true potential. You are a goddess among peasants." The woman in black began backing up toward the drapes, waving her fingers and Quistis trailed after her helplessly. "Come with me," she whispered softly, "to a place of no return. Bid farewell to your childhood."
Quistis turned as Squall and the others suddenly ran up from where she had originally appeared. They halted at the threshold, eyes wide and confused as to what was going on. The blonde female stared at them for a moment, then swung back and stared at him. Seifer couldn't move, but in his head he was screaming.
Hyne, no . . . Don't . . . Quistis!
She stared at him for a moment longer, then turned her back on him, on all of them. The woman in black quickly threw up another spell that had Squall and the others unable to move or interfere. Then Quistis followed as she passed through the rippling drapes. And just like that, they were gone as if they had never been.
As soon as they disappeared, Seifer regained the use of his limbs. He scrambled to his feet, for the moment dropping Hyperion onto the stage with a loud clatter and not caring. He ignored the others, taking a tentative step toward the drapes, then another. He reached out—his hand was actually trembling—and touched them, but nothing happened. They were just ordinary drapes, a solid wall behind them. Quistis and the mysterious woman were gone.
Just . . . gone.
"Where did they go?" Squall demanded from behind him. Seifer just shook his head. "Where's Quistis?"
"I don't . . . they just . . . she . . ." he was stuttering like an idiot, but couldn't seem to work up the gumption to give a damn. "They're gone," he announced finally, turning around and staring at the others, who's expressions of wide-eyed disbelief probably mirrored his own. "They walked through the wall. Through a fucking wall."
They all turned at the sound of footsteps, and then suddenly Rinoa appeared from down an opposite hallway.
"Seifer!" she exclaimed upon seeing him, her expression unreadable, out of breath as she'd apparently run here full-speed from somewhere else. "C'mon, everyone!" she heaved. "I know a way out. Hurry!"
Jolted into action, Seifer forced himself to leave the wall. He bent and snatched up Hyperion off the ground and then followed Rinoa as she led the way out of the TV station. Pubes, Wuss and the Messenger all followed him out. He focused on the task at hand, promising himself he'd figure this thing out with Quistis later. He couldn't think about it now. If he did . . . well, he wasn't sure what would happen, but he was almost certain it wouldn't be good.
They headed down a long catwalk, then around a building with a huge TV screen and toward a flight of fire-escape stairs. Rinoa turned and hesitated as she started descending. "They found our base," she announced, tone tired. "It's completely destroyed."
Selphie gasped, eyes wide. "And everyone else?" Now Rinoa grinned, chuckling.
"They're fine," she assured. "They're good at escaping."
She began down the stairs in earnest, the four of them following. When they reached a back alley, she paused again.
"We have to stay away from Timber for a while." Surprisingly, the girl suddenly turned to Squall, who seemed to jerk a little with surprise at the sudden, unexpected maneuver. Her brown eyes were pleading, and Seifer knew from experience how hard it was to deny that damned look. If he weren't so upset and pissed off at the moment he might have chuckled at Pubes' predicament. "Is there a safe place you can take me?"
Squall eyed her distastefully, then rolled his eyes and ran a hand back through his hair. Rinoa scowled, stomping her foot in indignation.
"This is an order from your client, remember?" she snapped then, tone frosty.
Pubes crossed his arms, sighing heavily and looking sorely set upon. Zell and Selphie snickered behind him.
"Alright," he finally conceded.
Rinoa smirked in triumph, then motioned for everyone to follow her again as she led the way into the back door of a pub. They moved quickly for the entrance, but their way was suddenly blocked by a husky woman dressed in a long-sleeved brown shirt, green ankle-length skirt and a dark blue scarf tied around her long black hair. Seifer recognized her from when he had come to Timber last year. Her name was Sylvia Brenner, but everyone knew her as Chief, the leader of yet another one of many Timber resistance factions. She motioned to them, and he and Rinoa approached.
"Rinoa," she called. "I heard your base is in serious trouble. Come over to my place until things settle down." Rinoa grinned.
"I appreciate it, thank you." Chief turned to him and grinned.
"Ballsy, kid," she then murmured as she turned and started for the door. "Dumb as hell, but ballsy. Even I have to give you that one."
Rinoa followed after Chief immediately. Seifer hesitated and turned when he saw that the other three weren't as swift on the uptake.
"What the hell you waitin' for, Pubes?" he snapped to Squall. "A gilded invitation? Move your asses!"
That one him three dark looks but Seifer turned his back on them, not giving a damn what they thought. The five of them followed Chief through the streets of Timber, ducking, dodging and weaving through the back alleys doing their best to avoid patrols wherever they could—and taking them down fast and quietly where they couldn't. They all arrived at a small housing district next to the Timber Maniacs building, and followed Chief inside.
The entrance opened up into a large kitchen and dining room area, and the five of them piled inside. Selphie headed for the window, keeping a lookout. Seifer and Rinoa moved to the back of the kitchen, toward the stairs that would lead up to the bedrooms. Zell walked over to the furnace at the base of those stairs—uncommonly silent—and crouched down with his back to them, staring at the floor. Chief sighed.
"I'll let you know if anything changes," she announced. "'Til then, make yourselves at home."
"Thanks, Chief," Rinoa murmured. The woman nodded, then headed toward another part of the house.
Squall quirked an eyebrow. "Chief?" he demanded after the woman had left ear-shot. Rinoa grinned.
"She's the leader of the Forest Fox. Almost everyone is a resistance member in this town," she reminded him, then she chuckled. "But right now, we're the only ones that are really active." She sighed then, and sat down exhaustedly at the table. Angelo sat at her feet. "Let's stay here for a while," she suggested then.
No one contested her.
Seifer withstood the silent glares that shot his way from Pubes and Wuss for all of about two minutes before he muttered something about needing to take a piss before leaving the room. He fled to the small bathroom down the hall, closing the door behind him and locking it before he fell back against the wood paneling. His head thunked back heavily, eyes closing. Seifer sighed, hands lifting to scrub ineffectually at his face. Then he growled and slammed his head back against the door again, harder this time.
Shit, why did it have to be her? Why did that freak-show have to go after Trepe instead of him? Was Hyne trying to teach him some cosmically fucked up lesson or something?
Quistis' words earlier that afternoon suddenly came back to haunt him, echoing hollowly in his head. Their hearts may be in the right place but their reckless actions are only going to end up getting themselves killed, along with everyone else unfortunate enough to be caught along for the ride, she had told him. Even the best, most honorable intentions can't bring someone back from the dead.
Why did that bossy, pretentious little wench have to go and say such a thing? Why did she always have to be right? And why in the hell had he kissed her?
Seifer groaned soft and low, his legs slowly giving way and allowing him to slide down the door until he fell heavily onto the floor. He drew his knees up, head bowed, the heels of his hands pressing hard into his temples.
There hadn't been any one good, logical explanation for it. As soon as they'd entered the alley and the shadows there, they had been well out of sight from any passerby's or pursuers. There had been no need for him to kiss her, other than his uncontrollable desire to do so from the moment she'd strolled out of that train bathroom earlier. With her thick blonde hair cascading down her back like honey pouring from a pitcher and that toned, flat belly of hers driving him to distraction. Not to mention the fact that her nipples had drawn up into tight little buttons clearly visible beneath the clingy material of her peach top, hard enough to cut glass.
The breasts on a female were directly connected to her sensory receptors, the nipples would respond to any stimulation that was strong enough. Change in temperature could cause it, fear and anger as well. Desire was nearly their twin. Seifer couldn't stop staring, or thinking about those two little nubs responding to him that way. Just the thought had made him harder than a rock, and he'd only managed to fight off his baser urges for so long. Just until they'd reached that alley. Then he was bound and determined to exorcise her from his mind. He'd kiss her, she'd be piss-poor at it, he'd let her go and quip something funny and then that would be the end of it.
Hyne, but she had tasted so good. Warm and sweet and wholly addictive, like the headiest of Estharian wine. Quistis had been stiff and uncomfortable at first—hinting to the fact that she probably didn't have a whole lot of experience in kissing—but his little Ice Queen had thawed out right nicely under the right provocation. Even now he could still feel those small but full breasts of hers flattened into the wall of his chest, could feel the silky smooth skin of her thighs against his palms, the firm flesh of her ass in his hands. Seifer could remember with haunting clarity the way she'd responded so fully to him, her tiny hands fisting into his hair at the back of his head, her hips swiveling against his thrusts. The sound of her little whimpers and moans of need had shot down straight to his throbbing cock, making him ache with the need to be inside her.
And then when those two soldiers had suddenly interrupted them, for a moment Seifer had actually contemplated murder just for the sheer pleasure of it. Because then he'd been forced to watch that soft look of desire on her flushed face slowly melt into one of shock and horror as she realized just what she'd been doing, and with whom. Her blue eyes had gone from soft violet to frosted diamond in seconds. No doubt she'd been fantasizing about Squall manhandling her in order to get through the ordeal, and only then had she realized that she'd lowered herself to making out with the 'asshole' instead. When Quistis had tried to scoot away, Seifer had tightened his hold and made her stay. Made her acknowledge that he had turned her on that way. That it was him, Seifer Almasy—not Squall Leonhart—that had made her feel that good.
Then the soldiers had left, Seifer had accepted the pathetic futility of his actions and released her, finally. Turning away so she wouldn't see the pain and the humiliation in his eyes. He'd had to do something then—anything—or risk making a complete and total fool of himself. The idea of going after Deling had popped into his head as Seifer had ripped out his coat out of the suitcase and put it on. He'd then pursued the idea with a ferocity that surprised even him.
And now she was gone, to only Hyne knew where with whoever the hell that creature was in the black dress. And it was all his fault.
This self-hate and recrimination solves nothing, little hatchling, came Tiamat's normally thundering voice, now strangely soft and soothing.
Seifer had no answer for that, so didn't bother trying. He just continued to sit on the floor and wallow in his own anger and regrets. Tiamat sighed, then lent his support the only way he could—by being there for him, no matter what.
Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, the others watched silently as Seifer stalked from the room. As soon as he was out of ear-shot, Selphie turned to Rinoa.
"I still don't get it," she announced. "What did Seifer come here for?"
Rinoa sighed. "I think . . . he came to help us," she replied after a moment's hesitation. "The Forest Owls," she then clarified quickly, coloring slightly under Selphie's quirked brow. "I talked about it a lot with him," she insisted. Inwardly Squall was seething, even though he wasn't even really sure why their closeness would bother him. Of course, none of it showed on his face, as bland as ever. "So please," Rinoa was saying, "don't think too badly of him."
Squall just snorted under his breath, turning to stare sightlessly at some stupid painting or other on the wall. Don't think too badly of him? Whatever. Zell was right. There was definitely some history between those two, personal history. Best he not even get involved. It was just too bad Squall was apparently leg-shackled to the inept female for what was now a completely indiscernible amount of time. He'd have liked nothing better than to put as much distance between them as possible.
Rinoa got to him, when no one else could. And that was too dangerous to be tolerated.
All of a sudden there was a fierce banging on the door. Everyone in the kitchen tensed. Squall's hand went to the handle of his gunblade. Selphie gripped one of the ends of her nunchaku. Zell slowly stood, clenched fists at his sides, blue eyes narrowed. Seifer appeared from down the hallway, Hyperion already drawn and resting across his shoulders, green eyes like cold mirrors.
They all listened, tensed, at the sound of Chief answering the door.
"Anybody in here?" a strange voice suddenly roared.
"What is this?" Chief snarled back, still out of sight. "I have two small children in here! Don't do anything to frighten them!"
All of a sudden a young girl of about twelve to thirteen years suddenly rushed down the stairs, wearing a long-sleeved cream colored top and dark brown leggings, her mother's dark black hair cut in a slanting bob. She motioned with her hand.
"Upstairs!" she hissed softly. "Hurry!"
Everyone began filing for the stairs.
"Will she be ok?" Rinoa questioned fearfully. The girl grinned, waving away her worries.
"She'll be fine. The legend goes that my mother took down many soldiers with her strength, cooking and beauty."
Selphie began mounting the stairs, but snorted loudly. "That beauty part sure makes it sound like a legend."
The girl huffed indignantly while they hurried up the stairs as quickly and quietly as they could. The group soon found themselves in a small bedroom that looked like it housed two young males. Currently it's only other occupant was a black and white spotted cat, who lazed on the bed, tail lashing slowly up and down and eyeing Angelo distrustfully.
Selphie plopped down on the bed beside the cat. Rinoa crouched near-by, with Zell moving off to the corner of the room and kneeling down with his back to everyone again. Seifer moved to the back of the room and seemed to stare out the window. Squall closed the door behind them and sighed. Rinoa fiddled with her shoelaces for a moment, then raised her head.
"I wonder if she's ok?"
No one had to ask her to clarify who 'she' was. Seifer tensed, but after a moment he turned slightly.
"She got stuck on the train with me," he admitted, tone uncommonly bland. He stepped into the center of the room. "I was so pissed when I found out that so few SeeDs were dispatched here, I went AWOL and headed to Balamb to hop the first train to Timber. Trepe came to try and convince me not to go, and the train ended up leaving while she was still on board."
"What's going to happen to Instructor Trepe?" Selphie suddenly questioned. Squall frowned, his stare catching with Seifer's.
"She may already be dead," he pronounced flatly. Seifer's face darkened, eyes narrowing, but he didn't reply.
It was hard to argue with the truth. Rinoa scowled however.
"How can you be so casual?" she demanded, then she shook her head and stretched out one leg in front of her. "You never know . . . anything could happen."
Squall snorted, then outright chuckled at the blatant naiveté of that statement. Rinoa suddenly shot to her feet, bristling.
"What's so funny?!" she demanded, incensed. Then she gave him a glare. "You're terrible!" was her bitter assessment then.
Squall didn't reply. Seifer turned back for the window and Selphie suddenly plopped back onto the bed. The cat tensed and meowed, but otherwise didn't move. There was a brief moment of silence, then the chipper brunette suddenly sat back up again.
"So . . . why do you think Quistis may already be dead?" Squall turned to her, then shrugged.
Because . . ." The president of Galbadia and the sorceress joined forces," he replied in his usual no-nonsense, flat tone. "When Seifer attacked the president, Quistis was with him. It's no surprise that Quistis may have been killed because of it."
Rinoa suddenly stalked toward him, dark eyes burning for some reason he couldn't fathom. "Even so!" she cried, as if she were arguing the truth. "I still hope she's alive!"
Squall just turned away. Think what you want, he sneered inwardly. Reality isn't so kind. Everything doesn't work out the way you want it to. That's why . . . "As long as you don't get your hopes up," he suddenly announced, "you can take anything. You feel less pain." He turned back, his blue eyes settling on her wide brown ones. "Anyway, whatever you wish is none of my business."
Rinoa just stared at him for a moment, then scowled. "You're mean," she suddenly pronounced, then spun on her heel and stalked back to the corner of the bed. She plopped down, glaring at him still. "Meany!"
Squall's brows furrowed, and he shook his head. What's with her . . . ? Then he snorted and sneered, "sorry."
They all lapsed into an uncomfortable silence then for several minutes. When the door suddenly opened Squall and Seifer both had their gunblades drawn and pointed to Chief when she entered. She hesitated a moment, then relaxed when both teens lowered their weapons again with identical sighs of relief.
"They're gone, for now," she announced. "I don't think they'll be coming back. Intel is on the street that—with the president and his ambassador out of town—the Galbadian forces are in the process of withdrawing. Should be all cleared out by morning. You all are more than welcome to stay until then, bed down wherever you can find a space. Then, if you're gonna leave town, first light'd be your best bet."
"We appreciate it," Squall thanked her, genuinely grateful for the woman's generosity.
"Not a problem, hon. You all can take turns in the upstairs bathroom. I'll go see if I can't rustle up something decent for supper."
Two hours later the five of them were all gathered in the kitchen, Chief standing at the stove and putting up the leftovers of the massive feast she'd managed to scrounge up. Clean, bellies sated and relatively safe for now, much of the tension had left the group. Zell was still silent, and Rinoa was now sharing his attitude—glaring every now and then in Squall's direction however. Selphie had mentioned more than once her desire to go home—in a high-pitched whine that only Selphie could manage.
Chief sighed as she put the last of her blackberry cobbler into the fridge, then she turned back to Squall and raised her brow.
"So what's your plan?" she questioned. Squall was slightly taken aback, wondering why she would ask him. It wasn't as if he was the leader or anything.
"Yeah Pubes," Seifer suddenly demanded from where he was leaning back in his chair on the other side of the table opposite Squall, arms crossed behind his head. "Any bright ideas on where we should go from here?"
We have to get out of here first, he mused bitterly. As if he'd read his mind, Seifer sneered.
"Getting the hell outta here is only the first step."
Squall twitched an eyebrow, arms crossing. "Why do you say that?"
The others watched them argue, heads swiveling back and forth.
Seifer smirked. "Garden code," he recited, "Article 8, Section 7."
Squall glanced away, brow furrowing in thought. 8:7 . . . In the event that returning to the assigned Garden is not possible, return to the nearest Garden . . . He felt his eyebrows raise in surprise, stunned that Seifer had remembered that so readily. Then again, Squall shouldn't have been so shocked. Almasy had always been one of the smartest in the class—and not just because he'd been forced to repeat it three times.
He knew the material, the trick was getting the arrogant prick to cooperate long enough to prove it.
"Return to the nearest Garden," Squall finally admitted after a moment, and Seifer chuckled.
"Ding, ding, ding," he sneered. "And Puberty Boy gets a prize." He let his chair fall down onto all four legs with a sigh. "From here, the closest would be Galbadia Garden."
Rinoa lifted her head, then offered her first words in several hours. "We can take a train from here and get off at a station called East Academy."
Seifer nodded, and their familiarity became very apparent with how easily the two bounced ideas off one another. Squall was inordinately annoyed by the byplay, even though it pissed him off to admit it, even to himself.
"From EA, we'll have to go through a forest west of the station to get to Galbadia Garden. Never been there myself, but I don't think we should have any trouble getting asylum there. S'pretty standard procedure."
Squall nodded, forcing himself to turn a blind eye to the undercurrents passing between Rinoa and Almasy. "Ok then," he heaved. "We'll escape from Timber and head to Galbadia Garden. We'll set out first thing in the morning." He got to his feet. "For now everyone should get as much rest as they can."
"Ok, girls upstairs!" Chief suddenly proclaimed, her tone broking no argument. "Boys, you're bunking down here on the couches."