Author's Notes: For Chapter 1, I used the prompt "I've been here since the Garden was established" from my Bingo Card (Balamb Garden Network) and the Challenge Word quixotic.
There's this amazing Minecraft build of Balamb Garden where the quad has a lot of cool features, and I've incorporated some of that build into this fic. ;)
Chapter 1: Scars
Quistis could not for the life of her find Seifer.
She walked blindly around the school, forcing a smile each time someone greeted her.
She did not know his dormitory number. Neither did she know where he liked to hang out.
She knew only that he and Squall had inflicted severe injuries upon each other in a training session early this morning.
Seifer, the student she wished she never had. Squall, the student she favored most. Her worst and her best, head-to-head until their faces tore open and bled onto the ground, or so she had heard from the rumor mill.
And yet, it was not Squall she sought out first. Xu already confirmed to her that Squall had been transferred to the infirmary. In fact, Dr. Kadowaki would probably be paging Quistis soon to come and pick him up. In the meantime, Squall would be fine, just fine…
It was Seifer she was worried about.
Her intuition urged her to find him.
After half an hour of fruitless searching, she rounded the corner and nearly bumped right into his friend Raijin.
"Sorry, Instructor Trepe!" he exclaimed, huffing and puffing. "I'm in a hurry, ya know!?"
She noticed the clear plastic bags in his hands—one containing apples and the other containing oats. "Is everything okay, Raijin?"
"Just on my way to the stables. It's my turn to feed the horses."
"I'll help you," she offered, holding out a hand.
He grinned and handed her the bag of oats. "Thanks, Instructor!"
"Actually, I'm glad I ran into you." She fell into step beside Raijin. "I've been trying to find Seifer…"
Raijin's grin turned into the look of someone who had possibly made a mistake.
"Do you know where he might be?"
"Is he—" Raijin's eyes grew large. "Is he in trouble or somethin'?"
His reaction appeared genuine. He had yet to hear about the accident.
"Well," she hesitated. "Not exactly. I'd just like to have a word with him."
"Oh," he said with some uncertainty. "Well, if it's just a word or two…"
"Just a word or two is all," she assured him. "I'd appreciate his time very much."
That was enough to convince Raijin. Then again, he was quite easy to convince compared to the other members of the Disciplinary Committee.
It turned out that Seifer was at the stables in the quad. She hadn't thought to look there. Seifer Almasy, lover of animals…? She couldn't reconcile the image with his personality.
His back was turned to them. He had taken off his trench coat and was wearing a plain black tee. He was gently and methodically brushing the mane of a magnificent horse whose name was Honey according to the nameplate on her stall.
"BOSS!" bellowed Raijin. "Someone's here to see ya."
"Tell 'em to fuck off," answered Seifer calmly.
Quistis winced at the casual instance of profanity. The cussing felt bizarrely worse coming from someone whose body language was absurdly tranquil in light of recent events.
Raijin took the bag of oats from her and walked over to his friend in the horse stall. "Psst, psst! It's Instructor Trepe, ya know?"
She saw Seifer stiffen. Whether the posture was one of surprise or disgust, she could not discern. Then, in the exact same tone: "Tell her to fuck off."
Raijin dropped the bags as he finally saw his friend face-to-face. "SHIT, Seifer! What happened to your forehead!?"
Honey whinnied in protest at Raijin's outburst.
"I'll tell you later," he said quietly. "In the meantime, let me and the Instructor have a private word."
Quistis was in disbelief. This whole exchange was rather ridiculous—Raijin treating Seifer like some kind of Garden VIP, Seifer acting like he held all of the cards—but sadly, this was the way things had always been. Seifer was not one to respect her as an authority figure. Honestly, his profanity was the least of her concerns; she had suffered much worse from him and didn't care to reminisce on any of it at the moment.
Raijin put away the bags and promised each horse by name that he would come back soon to feed them.
When Raijin left the scene, Seifer still hadn't turned around or acknowledged her presence.
So she let out a drained sigh and walked over to him with a frown—the kind that caused her facial muscles to twitch if she held the expression for too long.
The deep slash on his forehead came into view. The red line of punctured flesh brought her distress. At least he had Cured it right away to stop the bleeding, though it would surely remain as a scar. She could easily guess what had gone down this morning: Seifer had likely cut Squall first, and Squall had cut Seifer in reprisal.
"Seifer."
He turned his head ever so slightly to observe her. "Instructor." His voice dripped annoyance and boredom to the highest degree. The glint of his eyes, as always, was unapologetically condescending.
She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. "Seifer, why do you think I'm here?"
He patted Honey, set aside the brush, and swept past Quistis to rest on a bench.
She followed him out of the stall but didn't sit down with him.
"You came to ask me why I did it. You came to tell me that I'm a bad person, to which I say—" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't tell me I'm bad when I say that I'm not. Don't accuse me of shit when you don't even know the whole story."
If this was all that he thought of her, as someone who simply never took his side, then she was truly failing him as his instructor. She decided to approach him with a different tactic. She took a seat beside him and said, "What if I came to simply ask if you're okay?"
He suddenly sneered. "That's highly unlikely, Instructor. You're nothing if not predictable."
"I care about my students," she said seriously. "That includes you." What she was telling him was true, wasn't it? Even if Seifer was the thorn in her side, she wanted to see him succeed just like all of her other students. In that way, she believed she was being fair.
Somehow her response only made him angrier. Even more disconcerting was the impression of grief in his eyes—if she blinked, she would have missed it entirely. "You don't know a thing about me!" he spat.
"You're right," she yielded wisely. She was still puzzled over the picture of his grief but she would have to analyze that at a later time. She didn't want to lose any momentum here. "I don't know you as well as I could or should." She paused. "…But I'd like to, if you'd let me."
She was playing with fire now. Even so, it was her duty to help him. If nobody else wanted to step up and believe in Seifer, she was going to have to bear the brunt of it by herself.
Animosity abated, he stared off into the distance, silent and reflecting. His side profile dazzled her in a way that she didn't have words for. It was always at the strangest times that one noticed the strangest details.
She accepted the silence, uncomfortable though it was, for she believed that she was here for a reason. She had obeyed the insistent voice of her intuition because something important was supposed to happen in this conversation with Seifer. She just didn't know what that was yet.
Moments later, she found out.
"I've been here since the Garden was established."
Quistis' frown eased away. This was news to her.
"It was just me and Squall in the beginning. I hated this place—we both did. But the day I realized there was nowhere else to go, I stopped trying to get myself kicked out."
Her heart was doing a funny thing now. It simmered and churned with new compassion for him. Was this supposed to feel so devastating, or was this the controversial flavor of care reserved specially for Seifer Almasy?
His laugh was hollow and joyless. "Anyway, make of that what you will." The small window of his vulnerability had already closed, and with that, he rose from the bench and dusted off his hands and walked away.
"Wait!"
Seifer turned around.
Quistis was no longer frowning. "Thank you, Seifer. I appreciate the fact that you opened up to me. Please let me know how I can continue to support you."
To her surprise, he started walking back toward her. She held her breath in anticipation of his mercurial mood.
When he stopped, he seemed to tower over her far more than their actual height difference. She could feel his body heat radiating off of him. He was imperious and demanding and that wasn't all: there was a quixotic sincerity beneath his disagreeable demeanor if she squinted hard enough.
"If you really care about me as your student," he told her slowly, "then prove it with your actions."
She fought back her indignation.
Was she not doing enough for him already?
Did she not extend his assignment deadlines? Did she not overlook minor offenses in his classroom conduct? Did she not swap schedules with Instructor Aki whenever she could to ensure a less painful detention experience?
What more, what more, could Seifer Almasy possibly ask of Instructor Trepe?
Quistis couldn't answer him for fear of exploding in exasperation.
Instead, she merely nodded like the good little instructor that she was, though she began to have serious doubts about her personal interpretation of goodness.
Seifer gave her a final look as if to say, You've made me a promise—now keep it!
Her turbid insecurities accompanied her all the way back to her classroom. She was just in time for Dr. Kadowaki's page.
"Quistis? Come get your student."
"Is it Squall?"
"Yes, yes…"
"How is he?"
"His injury's not serious. It'll probably leave a scar."
Quistis refrained from commenting on Seifer's condition. It would probably be best if she kept her excursion to herself. "Thank you for the update. It seems that he's well enough to participate in this afternoon's field exam?"
"…Right," said Dr. Kadowaki distractedly as she shuffled papers in the background. "Now please come by."
"I'm on my way."
Quistis smoothed out all hints of disorder from her facial expression and took off to the infirmary.
How curious that Squall's scar was a mirror image of Seifer's!
As the two strolled from the infirmary to the classroom, she prompted Squall to tell her more about himself, just as she had asked of Seifer. Naturally, she predicted what Squall was going to say and found it terribly humorous when they uttered the same line in sync with each other. Squall just turned away with an unamused scowl. Secretly she was disappointed that she had gotten more of an answer out of Seifer than Squall. She was far more interested in the latter, both as a student and as a potential friend.
She thought back to just moments before, when Seifer had mentioned his history with Squall. Perhaps the two boys had even known each other prior to Garden. Perhaps there was more to their rivalry than met the eye. I'm more complex than you think, Squall had told her. An unprofessional part of her wanted to access both of their student records to find out more. As a licensed instructor, she certainly had the security permissions to do so. It was just that her intent seemed a bit iffy to her.
As class started, she dutifully launched into outlining the day's schedule and agenda.
"Oh, and Seifer!"
Seifer glanced up from his desk with a raised brow.
"Do NOT injure your partner while training," she scolded him. "Be careful from now on."
Quistis realized with precipitous horror the overt bias in her statement. Her subconscious stance had already escaped her mouth and it was too late to snatch the words back.
Seifer's eyes burned into her own with a hot sense of betrayal.
She remembered his sneer as he had declared, You're nothing if not predictable.
She could hardly believe that she had already let him down.
She felt like the worst instructor in the world.
His instinctual response was to slam his fist down onto the desk. The female students sitting in front of him flinched at the disturbance.
"Field exam participants, I will see you all later," she concluded with a noticeable tremble in her voice. "And Squall, I need to talk to you."
Seifer walked out of her classroom as if he planned to never come back.
That scar between his eyes that spoke of hurt and trauma. The scent of his body suffusing her senses as he gazed coldly down at her. Those haunting words that were somehow both a plea and an ultimatum:
If you really care about me as your student, then prove it with your actions.